Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Chapter twenty nine.

James' POV.

I know what attitude could cause to my relationship with Zack, but what choice do I have? This is something I need to do, and make that mutt understand his limit. He needs to know, and it's all for Zack's sake.

I walk into the publishing company, and go straight to the registry. When I first saw the picture of the man, who had just bought the company, I know there must be a reason for it, and that I must protect Zack. He might be in danger just for working in the company owned by that Mafia, who calls himself my father, Hitler Richard.

Thank goodness, I never revealed my last name to Zack, or else he would have figured out my anger, where it is channelling from. The guy is so, so smart, it's one of the reason why I like him.

I concentrate on the blonde smiling at me. When she realizes I have no regard for her gentleness, she speaks ahead, "how can I help you, sir?

"I need to see Hitler."

She is shocked just for a short moment. "I'm sorry, I can't. And I think it will be nice of you leave." Her hand has slipped off the counter to below. She wants to report me to the security? If so, then she is a novice to have made me noticed. If I wanted to kill her before, and decide not to do so anymore, she would have given me no choice than to revise again.

"No problem." I take out my phone from the back of my pocket, and dial my father's number. I don't remember calling him in the last two, to three years. He is my greatest enemy, if I'm asked.

"James?" His voice is little.

"I'm outside your office. At the lobby, come out now. We need to talk." After being concise, I hang up.

In five minutes after, the monster is down, his cheeks widening to a smile.

"Hey, how are you?" His is nerved. Glad. He should be. He wants to hug me, but stop when he sees the eye I gave him for that approach. He knows better.

"I want to make something clear. You don't hurt that guy that just left your office. The mahogany-haired guy, Zack, his name. I know there's a reason why you bought this company, maybe to cover yourself up from some other mafia, or from the government...whatever the case might be, just make sure no harm comes to Zack just because he wants to work with you. Understood?"

After an exhale, a deep one actually, and a long drawn out moment, he confirms, "yes, understood."

"Good." And I leave, and don't look back at him.

As I walk out of the lobby, I hear him call after me, "James, wait, I have something to say."

"Don't you dare follow me outside." I say on turning. "Or I swear to God, I'll punch your face. Mother used to stop me, but since you got her killed, I will not hesitate." Yes, I just said that out, and I don't care whatever ear is listening in. They mind their business, and we mind ours.

"Do whatever you want to me. There are some new group on the outside, and they are looking for you. Please, be careful." His expression is pained, as though he really cares. He is nothing but a monster. Not after all he's done, will he expect me to forget and forgive?

"Your life, your fault, I don't want anything to do with it, and no one even knows I'm your son, so they don't know me. Whoever you say they are." I declare, already at the door, wanting to leave anytime now.

"Unfortunately, they do." He remarks, and looks down.

"Nothing..." I...I am so pissed right now that I don't even know what to say. It is so cruel to see this new being he's changed into. He looks too innocent when he's killed many in the past, made many suffer, and his family were not spared. He destroyed us all for his love for money. It isn't right, he doesn't deserve forgiveness. Not now at all.

I burst out of the building, and head to the car instantly, hurrying in my pace. As I get in, I do not listen to what Zack asks from me, and drive and leave.

I notice him looking back, but don't pay much attention to it.

"What did you go to do?" Zack ask me, but I don't answer. The fact that I'm driving fast gives me away that it hadn't went well in there for me. And now, he will grow more suspicious of my actions. I don't want him, knowing, so as not to endanger him.

"Nothing, Zack. Can you please just let it be?"

"Maybe if you decide to at least let me know something?" He retaliates. He doesn't use to. He is not the kind. I have noticed.

"Whatever. You don't need to know anything. It's not like it will help your life."

"Well, maybe it will help my mind to rest, maybe it will help my thoughts." Oh, God, he is being so emotional. It pains me.

"Oh, God, do you have to be so emotional right now...it's frustrating, and irking!" No, no, no, it is not. How do I let him know? My expression shows that I'm sorry, but I can't find it in me to say it out. My arrogance...I got it from my deadly father, Hitler Richard.

"Let me out of the car." He says, but I act like I don't hear, while I think of how to make him understand me, and calm.

I can't have him, leaving me too, not in this condition. Uncle would have helped me control my anger, but him, not being here is an error.

"I'm sorry."

"I said, let me the fucking hell out of this fucked up car!" His voice is raised, and pissed off, like palm-twitchingly pissed off.

I find a space to park, and close my eyes as I hear him unlock his side of the door. Getting out, I don't hear anything. He won't talk to me.

"We have each other's contact now, we'd talk." Is all he'd say at me before leaving. It's the lightest relief though, and I appreciate it.

I know I've fucked up, big time, so I drive off, as I think of where to let out my anger.

So, I find this small bar behind an uncompleted building, the place tattered and rough. The men in here are stinking, but that isn't my concern. I have my reasons for coming here, and it is to let out my anger. Getting to the booth, I slam my hand against the surface of the counter, causing the young boy — looking age mate to Zack — startle, and jump to his behind. Accessing me, he quivers at the sight of me. I know I'll look like the monster the monster who trained me wanted me to look like. It still pains, all those memories.

I would wish then to.fall into an incident that will make me forget everything, maybe have amnesia or something.

"What can I get you, Sir?" He doesn't deserve al place like this, filled with filthy beings who thinks if nothing but drinking.

"Get me a beer." I say, and take a seat on the nearest wooden footstool. Sliding into the comfort of it, I use my palm to smoothen the surface of my forehead, and think about the past one hour incident.

As the boy hands me my drink, I open the cover with my teeth, not using the opener he had offered me, and begin drinking.

I don't know when I slept off. When I raise my head, I'm on a chair, a table in front of me. Everything is wooden in this bar. One of the reason why it is cheap; because the woods are even just ordinary logs. Some part of it is even becoming rotten already.

I don't know when I got here, which must mean I got drunk whilst drinking, and came here without my conscience knowing. My head hurts a bit, and needs another sleep, but when I look outside, and see no sight of the sun, I know better than to want to sleep again.

Standing up, my legs feels wobble, and my manner of walking is unstable. The bar is awfully quiet now, like a zombie event has just finished taking place. It makes me attentive. Suddenly, my eyes trails something, hovering down my body to the ground. I have to rub my eyes to see what it was before going down to pick it up.

The white note makes me suspicious, and watchful. I became more calculating of my environment. It is strange. I look around, and see nothing off.

Checking the note, I read out the message;

We are the eyes. We see your actions. We know the son of whom you are. Be watchful, be careful, and don't let him off your sight, because his death is near.

I don't recall anything other than, 'don't let him off your sight, because his death is near,' what does that mean? This is not a small matter, very threatening. I have three "he" in my life right now, so which do I know to cater for the most at this perilous time. My Uncle is there, Zack is there, and the least most countable man, my Father. Those are the list, but how do I know?

I motion my body to the counter, where the kid is, cleaning the top of it. When he sees me approaching, he quickly put down his eyes, scared, I can tell. "Did you see anyone leave anything on me, or near me?"

"No, Sir." He says, and when I don't reply, he adds. "I'm sorry, Sir."

I shake my head, and leave the bar. I can similarize myself to this boy, because I can remember then when I too will be scared to hunky men, thinking they were all evil like the one who raised. I bet he too will soon hate whichever of his parents forced this upon him soon after, when he grows more, and becomes independent.

As I begin to walk to the street, I turn on the screen of my phone to see twenty missed calls from Zack — oh, shit, my phone was on silent — and a message from him. I'll read it later, I say to myself, as I dial my dad's phone number for the second time today, something that happens rarely, and say once he picked up. "We need to talk. I will fix the appointment." Then after, I cut the call.