Revenge Or Love ✔

Chapter 39 Kyle

Kyle POV.

The reality matched my expectations.

My dad came back from Clara's once again, covered in dirt.

He followed Clara up the mountain to visit her late husband, then secretly took out the two rings Clara had buried underground before.

The butler tells me every day when he takes me to school: It's a crime to take someone else's things without permission.

So I never take my classmates' pencils or erasers at school (just occasionally grab their snacks).

Then my dad was caught.

Clara asked him to return the rings, he refused, and they had a big argument.

My dad drank too much again, as he often does now, sitting by the pond holding a bottle and crying to the butler.

He says that Clara has never given him any gifts except for a little prince. She is always late to tell him happy birthday.

He says in a very aggrieved voice that he can forgive Clara's coldness towards him, so he hopes Clara can forgive him too.

How is that possible?

He has already committed a crime.

I can't stand him anymore, I get out of bed and run to the garden to check his suit pockets. They're empty, nothing inside.

The butler says my dad finally gave the rings back to Clara.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Then I have the chance to look up at my dad's face, and I see his face is a bit red. But that doesn't seem to be due to alcohol, one side of his face is higher than the other, with a clear slap mark on it.

I widen my eyes in surprise, then turn to look at the butler.

The butler is silent for a moment, then coughs: "Domestic violence is also a crime."

I do not understand.

Then I turn to look at dad, and hear him muttering softly, "Who says a leopard can't change its spots? I'll show you my belly. I'll give you the knife."

I also don't understand.

But on Friday night, I go to Clara's again.

Clara is not nice to dad, but she's nice to me. She makes onion and cabbage soup for me, meat, and even little bunny bread.

Clara ate very little today, all the meat went into my belly, and the sauce dripped onto my sweater.

Clara sees it and tells me to take off my shirt after dinner and put on the clothes I left here before.

While she goes to the bathroom to wash my shirt, I climb onto the bed to read a storybook, only to find it missing.

I look around and see that my toys are also missing.

I jump off the bed and run to the bathroom to ask Clara.

Clara lowers her head, washs my shirt vigorously, and says the toys are in the bag in the corner.

I feel a bit disappointed. Clara thinks my stuff is in the way, or she just doesn't like me.

I start to get angry, "I told you your house is too shabby and too small!" Then I tear open the bag and deliberately scatter my toys more messily than before.

But Clara is very gentle, she doesn't criticize me when she sees me after hanging up the clothes; she even gives me a shower.

I feel better.

"Clara，I want to watch cartoons," I tell Clara on the bed.

"There are no cartoons here."

"We can ask dad to buy a big TV and send it over!" I kick my legs excitedly on the bed.

Clara opens her mouth, sits up, and says, "Do you want to hear a story?"

Today she took the initiative to tell me stories for the first time.

I'm very happy, then I ask, "I'm not sleepy now, will there be a lullaby after the story today?"

Clara nods. After she reads me three stories and hums a song, I start to close my eyes.

Then I hear Clara softly saying, "From next week, you don't have to come here anymore, okay..."

"Your dad doesn't want to get married, he treats you well; and I'm poor, you can only eat cabbage with me..."

"And there's nothing fun here... the house is too small, not even enough space for your toys..."

I open my eyes. "I don't need to come here?"

I sit up suddenly and shout, "Do you think I really want to come to this dump of yours!?"

"Actually, you just don't want me, right!?"

I hold back my tears, climb off the bed, and try to run out of the door: "I don't want to be with you either!"

Clara catches me in the yard.

I run too fast and trip, and I can't get up. She comes over to help me.

I hit Clara with my hands, kick her with my feet, but she still picks me up.

I rub my eyes and shout at Clara, "I know! Actually, you... actually, you don't like me at all, right! You don't want me at all, my grandpa told me you wanted to strangle me since I was born..."

My tears fall on Clara's shoulder, a bit hot, and then Clara trembles slightly.

"You're the worst mom in the world!" I cry loudly.

Clara doesn't say anything for a long time. She doesn't even look at me, just puts me on the stool, rolls up my pajamas, and applies medicine to my knee.

My knee is scraped, there's a small cut.

Now, I'm not crying anymore, but Clara is. I see the ground in front of her wet with tears when she lowers her head.

So I start crying again,"Dad said you didn't mean it, he said you were sick at the time too, felt like you couldn't take care of me and wanted to take me away..."

"I don't know... I don't know who's telling the truth..."

"But... but even if grandpa is right, I... I forgive you too."

I reach out to hug Clara and cry, "I'm not afraid... I'm not afraid of death..."

I'm not afraid of death, I want love.

I used to tell grandpa that I wanted a mom; I wanted her to tell me stories, sing lullabies, and hold me in her arms.

Grandpa said the nanny at home could tell me stories, sing lullabies, and hold me in her arms.

But I only want Clara. I only want Clara to do these things.