In Love With My Good-looking Mystery Boss

Chapter 2:The Enemy Within- Hypnosis

My name is Liam, and so many things are wrong with me, for as long as I can remember. The worst thing is, I don’t know what, or why, or when it started.

My father wouldn’t tell me a thing no matter how much I pressured him to open up to me. Hell, he wouldn't even look at my face long enough. I hate him. But if he would just talk to me, maybe I wouldn't hate him so much.

I rolled in my bed, my stomach still churning from the smell of cooking in my house.

Bored and triggered by the aroma, I dialed my maidservant's cell.

"Upstairs now!" I yelled into the phone, as if she was just about to recieve her last judgement, and like a flash, Eleanor, my head maidservant appeared at my door.

"My Lord, you sent for me?" She did a brief bow and looked at my daunting face.

It only took me a second to notice that I had literally jerked her out of a deep sleep, but I cared less.

It's the duty of a maid to be at her boss' beck and call, not?

"Should I remind you of your duties or do you need me to replace your tired hands already?"

I asked her the same question I asked every time she erred.

“I hope you are not about to serve me a meal full of garlic. You have forgotten how much that thing makes me sick?”

She immediately apologized too- something I hated to hear. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I will get you your usual cup of ginger ale, and some ice now, I will also prepare you a different meal."

I, Liam Arthur Karlsson, hate apologies. I believed you should try not to mess up in the first place. Apology or apologizing is for losers.

But I liked it when Eleanor brought me ginger ale- it made me feel like I had a mother. That was my usual morning routine, but now that I think about it, I should change it a little bit.

Those things rarely worked for my palpitations and thirst now.

"Eleanor?"

I called her back. She must have flinched because of my gruff voice, but I enjoyed it.

It felt really good to have a mother and a servant in one person.

Having the upper hand has got to be the best feeling in the universe.

"Yes, my Lord?"

I was going to ask her if Chad cried the whole night, because I was sure I had heard the noise of a crying child. Not just from staring long at my 'scars', but also in my dreams-nightmares in this case.

I also needed to know if Eleanor or the rest of my maidservants bore the name 'Mahogany', because I saw one tall, unbelievably sculpted, middle aged woman, called Mahogany in my dream every night.

The woman's voice must belong to her. Only I just don't know who the tortured boy could be.

Could it be me? And if it was me, then who's this woman who haunted my dreams every night?

She tortured this little boy that I didn't know in real life, because I never saw his face.

I did not see the woman's face too. All I got were voices.

When Eleanor said, "My Lord..?" with her questioning, croaky voice, I internally decided against asking.

I was not about to let my head maidservant think that I am going crazy.

"Add a few bottles of whiskey to the list,” I instructed instead, "I need some for the office."

She simply nodded, but I could see the questioning look in her eyes again.

She must wonder why I'm always requesting for alcohol.

They've never seen me drunk. In fact, I have never been ‘drunk’ on alcohol no matter how much I take. This is yet another thing about me that I might never figure out.

And so, when she wanted to say something else, I raised a hand to counter her.

"Get out."

It came out like a whisper but Eleanor understood the assignment and walked out, and then I could release my breath.

Even though the older woman was only a maid, she seemed to have a questioning gaze all the time.

I sometimes pictured her as my mother figure but I would never admit it.

At least my over-independent, stoic side wouldn't.

I got up, still in my pajamas and stood before my mirror after she left.

I had something close to a vanity in my room, which had elicited questioning eyebrows from Eleanor.

Once she had asked if I had a woman I was contemplating bringing over, and I remember giving her a deathful glare that sent her spiraling downstairs.

I stared into the mirror and studied myself obsessively, like I did everyday.

It was a kind of coping mechanism for me. Or a way to remind myself of the reality where I am cursed.

Like every morning, my eyes had turned blood red again, and my throat yearned for some strong liquid. Asking Eleanor to add more alcohol to the ones I was taking to the office later that day, was a good idea afterall.

I fetched the bottle of water by my bedside and downed it, but I was still very thirsty.

I stared at the mirror, trying to distract myself from my misery, and also trying to see if i could catch myself ‘turning’. Instead, other not-so-palatable memories filled my head.

Like the last words of my father before I slammed the door in his face. What did he mean by he shouldn't have met my mother? That she was the beginning of his doom?

And the statement about something coming to me that I must not hold on to, no matter how pleasant?

I sighed and thought deeply about it. I eventually concluded in my mind that, he was just spitting words in order to remove my eyes from him. He wanted to make my mother seem like the villain, so I would hate her instead of him.

He was that selfish. Always thinking about himself.

"That must be it," I thought, "he just wants me to take my eyes off him. There's no other explanation to this."

I kept reiterating to myself but somehow, a part of me did not agree with it. What if there was more to this than I thought?

Maybe it was my ego, or the resentment I bore towards him, but I wasn't willing to ask. If there was anything I had to know about their relationship, he should be able to tell me.

I sat on my bed and diverted my thoughts towards my last romantic relationship. It was the only time in my life that had meaning.

"Behold the sexiest god in town. You look your best when you are underdressed."

Those were my first ever girlfriend, Francisca's words.

Memories I had of her were many, but I locked them away because I know she would never again love me for who I am, like she loved me in the past.

If anything, then it would be for my money and fame. Or maybe she would never even love me for any reason at all, because of what she had watched me become, before her eyes.

It must have been why she left me. And I don't blame her. I would run if I saw the real me too.

I waited at the mirror and slowly watched my eyes turn turquoise again-the usual color.

I scoffed at my broad shoulders, thick dark hair and eyes which couldn't even get me a P.A, not to talk of a woman now.

Not that I even knew how to handle one.

Maybe it was okay to remain single, after my last girlfriend witnessed my dark secrets, and left me for good.

I still remember the incident vividly as if it happened yesterday.

That day, I remember her asking why my eyes turned bloody red all of a sudden. With a look of concern and terror on her face, she had tried to hold me. She didn't know what to do. She must have thought I was getting possessed by a demon.

While she was still talking, my incisor sharpened and I growled at her, causing her to flinch.

“Run, Francisca,” I mumbled with a low growl, turning away from her.

I knew she shouldn’t have seen my secret, and now that she had, it would not be safe to let her go outside, because she would tell the next person.

But the longer she stayed in the house with me, the more out of control I felt.

“What is wrong? Why are you so mad? You don't look okay,” She questioned gently, reaching for me, but then I turned to face her, my face all strange and deadly, and I said again, “Run!! Or I will kill you!”

She inched backwards, gasped for a second or two, and then ran out of the house, screaming for help.

While she was gone, I went to the kitchen and helped myself to one of the knives, which I used to cut myself, and sucked on my own blood.

She hadn't gone for more than thirty seconds when I became normal again.

“Wait,” I begged, feeling myself return to my normal state. I swiftly moved in the direction of the wind, and found her outside, talking to someone- the old man next door to be precise.

“Forget about whatever she told you,” I told him, “I can handle my girlfriend. Don't worry about us,” I said to him, looking him dead in the eye, and the next thing that happened shocked me.

He smiled at us, and said “Hello, how may I help you?” in his strong Southern accent. I thought he was just trying to show me literally that he had taken to my advice with no argument, so I left him there, and dragged my whimpering girlfriend back inside, before she could tell another person about it.

“You shouldn't have threatened him,” she started, blaming me seriously, “he didn't believe me anyway. I barely got words out of me.”

I shook my head, letting her know that I never threatened him, but she walked away from me and leaned on the door.

“Get away from me,” she cried, “Or I am going to scream.”

Hearing her say this to me made me want the ground to swallow me right there.

“I can explain, Francisca. Please let me explain,” I begged frantically, but could I, really? I didn't even know what I was.

I had to convince her that it was not necessary to tell anybody. I went on my knees and promised to do anything for her. I just wanted her to wait and listen to me.

“You can't tell anyone, Francisca, please,” I begged, staring deep into her teary eyes, “Please babe, can we make it our little secret…forever? If you want to know about it, I can open up to you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Surprisingly, her lips formed into a goofy smile and she reached for me, saying, “Why are you on your knees, baby? Let me guess…you're about to propose? But I see no ring?”

While I was still trying to understand what was going on, she jumped into my arms, kissed me, and I saw that the fear on her face had dissipated.

It was the same way the old man had reacted-like his memory had just been wiped.

Even when I asked her again if she wanted to talk about that incident, she would say, "You are scaring me, baby."

I didn't understand it.