Hockey Brother's Obsession

Battered Ex

“I may have given you a free pass into this f*****g bar, but I didn’t say you could insult or touch what's mine,” Cicero growls. “I brought you here for me to f**k with her. Not for you to f**k with her.”

Oh my god!

Clarence is a tall man, but Cicero still towers over him.

Clarence reaches for his throat, struggling. “Stop, you’re killing me,” he gasps, but Cicero tightens his fingers, slamming Clarence up against the wall.

“Cicero!” I croak. “Stop, please!”

He doesn’t look at me. I didn’t expect him to. Not when he’s like this. He’s already seeing red, and it will take maybe… a bulldozer to stop him now.

Still, I plead, “Cicero, pleaseee.”

Instead of a response, he begins moving towards the back entrance, his hand now back on Clarence’s throat.

When he realizes that I’m not following him at a reasonable pace, he barks my name and orders me to follow him.

Before we approach the back entrance, the door is already open for us. There is a security personnel at the door, and he locks it with a key as we step out to a plain, but enclosed space.

Jonathan, Cicero’s chauffeur, is standing at one end of the space, and Emerick, one of Cicero’s men, the one who used to follow me around like my shadow when my mom recently married Papa Ben, is here as well.

He is standing opposite Jonathan from the other end of the space. At the far end of the space is a large black trampoline covering something that I think might be a car, and beside Jonathan is an expensive-looking black bike.

Neither the men nor the security says a word. It's as if they are not seeing us.

“Sweet Nell,” Cicero calls me, letting out that annoying laugh but with a crazed tone of voice.

Jesus Christ! He’s far too gone.

“I brought this fucker here to show you there’s no f*****g hiding from me. But look at the piece of s**t, calling my most prized possession a “slut”” he laughs again. “Who the f**k does he think he is, disrespecting you like that, eh, little mama?”

“I’ve gotten your message. Loud and clear, Cicero,” I plead. “I’m sure he understands his mistakes, too. I promise he won’t do it again. Please, let him go!” I cry, watching Clarence's face as it turns a hideous shade of purple.

Surprisingly, Cicero frees his hold on Clarence's neck, making him fall to the floor.

I can tell by Clarence’s red face that he is pissed.

Instead of counting his losses and running as far from Cicero as he should, he stupidly charges at Cicero, offering the Beast the very opportunity he was looking for on a f*****g platter.

Cicero lets him charge, then grabs his shirt and twists, running him into an iron pole beside him.

When Clarence staggers back, Cicero hits him in the face.

Then he grabs him by his shirt, twists and kicks him viciously, throwing him to the ground.

Immediately, he’s on him, his fist connecting with his face with a sickening crunch.

I see a bright splash of blood on the floor behind Clarence, but Cicero doesn’t stop.

“Stop, please, Cicero! Please, stop!” I implore, tears already streaming down my face as I grab him around the waist, trying to drag him away from Clarence.

He feels so hard, with uncompromising corded lines of muscle. His skin feels hot under my touch, or maybe it’s my skin that is hot.

He reaches back to pluck me off, but I hang tight. “Ci, please,” I beg him. “You’re going to get in trouble. They’ll kick you off the team.” I try to reason with him, since we all know that Hockey is his safe sport.

“I own the f*****g team,” he grunts and continues kicking.

I begin running around in circles, crying, screaming my lungs out. But nobody…not the security at the entrance, not Jonathan, not Emerick, said a word or made any attempt to stop Cicero.

When I head back to him again, Clarence's face has turned to a pile of blood and flesh, and I need no soothsayer to tell me that Clarence is gone…

I sit on the floor and wail bitterly. Tears, catarrh, and everything mix together.

A man has just lost his life because of me.

Clarence might be a mean sonofabitch, but he doesn't deserve this.

Oh God, oh God!

I watch Cicero stand up.

“f*****g p***y,” he says, kicking Clarence with his shoe.

Emerick and the security at the entrance finally move to Clarence's lifeless body. They grab him like he weighs nothing and disappear to the side.

I want to turn and run away, but then Cicero barks, “Not a step, Nelle,” and I know I have to obey.

He is in his f*****g Berserker mode…