Benson's POV
At five years old I watched my father kill my grandma. His hands tightly squeezed her neck until she was no longer breathing. A part of me died, but I didn't go crazy and I am not crazy. My father had asked me to keep quiet when the police came but I loved my grandma dearly so as soon as they came I said "He killed her. Father killed her." Those statements changed the course of my life. The police I had spoken to was a good friend of my father so he ran straight to him and told him everything I had said.
Father thought I would be a threat to his plan of taking charge of grandma's company and he sent me to a mental institution, telling everyone I was a mad kid. I clocked 21 last week that would mean I spent 16 years in that institution, even though I was totally fine, somedays I even believe his lies, maybe I am crazy, because there is a rage I feel in my heart and I do not know where to turn it to.
The first time I saw him in those 16 years was last month, when he offered a deal for my freedom. He wanted me to get married to some random girl, in exchange for my freedom but I refused. I wasn't ready to face the world yet. I had made up my mind on not doing what he wanted until, Christian, my personal guard found out the reason why my father seemed so desperate. He wanted me to marry that girl for building ties with her grandma's company, and I finally realized where to channel all my rage to. I decided to accept his accept his proposal as long as I could join his company. Even though he hesitated at first, he agreed almost immediately. My plan was to ruin everything, him, the company and myself, I mean I didn't have anything worth holding onto anyway.
I was informed of my engagement party and by the time I had summoned the courage to be present, Christian, who had seen the girl I was getting married to, informed me that she was leaving while the party had just started. I thought maybe something urgent had come up, but he trailed her to a hotel. One known for its many atrocities. I still assumed maybe she was there for something else, maybe to just have a drink or see someone, and I decided I would go there and see her myself. Maybe even speak to her and reach a mutual agreement about our marriage but by the time I arrived she was tipsy and in bed with a monster who was so close to forcefully sleeping with her.
I descended on him without thinking almost killing him before Christian rushed in and stopped me. I didn't know the girl or care about her, but I hated it so much when there was any form of injustice or wickedness. It opens the wounds I try so hard to cover, and brings out all my anger. I was also disappointed that she didn't have common courtesy, at least if she wanted to sleep around she could have done so on another day, not during our engagement party. It was this annoyance that prompted me to avoid being present at the second engagement dinner, but it didn't end there my younger brother delivered a stupid message from her. Calling me a coward and asking me to show up.
Now here she is in front of me looking like she had seen a beast. I hate dit when people looked at me like this because I know they are just wondering who this crazy guy is. This loser that was locked in the mental institution for years. I tried to avoid her gaze as she looked at me but she didn't stop. Annoyed, I told her I received her message.
"uhm," She stuttered.
"I do not understand you." She added. Her eyes still fixed on me. The more she looked at me, the more I hated myself and felt insecure and that made me angry. If she sent my brother to me calling me a coward then I can imagine how many more things she thought about me.
"A coward?" I asked.
"uhm," She said, again. Pretending to be clueless.
"Better a coward than a slut."
"I'm sorry I don't understand?"
"I would rather be the coward who doesn't show up than the prostitute who sleeps with another man on her engagement night."
I watched her countenance change into something I could not explain. Anger or guilt perhaps. She had tears all over her face and I wondered why. I also honestly didn't care who she slept with, but she shouldn't point fingers when hers were dirty as well.
"Yes," I answered the priest.
"You may now kiss your bride."
I took steps closer to her but she hesitated again. She could put herself in such a position with another man, but be irritated by my touch? What? Because she heard I was crazy?
"Better behave, Violet. The paparazzi has just arrived. You know what that means." I whispered in her ears, and placed a kiss on her forehead. Her face felt warm against my lips, it made me feel some type of way. Before I could place what the feeling was she dropped to the ground making me understand she must have felt scared and irritated by the kiss.
My father immediately had the guards discard the press and Violet was rushed to the house. It had its own medical quarters. I still had business to sort with my father so I couldn't go home with her. By the time I arrived home I was told she was fine and now asleep. I didn't understand why the next morning she came down to the dining in the same wedding dress, it provoked me into thinking about how she fainted because I had kissed her.
"Why are you still in your dress?" My anger increased the more I saw her in the wedding dress.
She ignored me and continued eating. Making me even madder at her.
"You must like drama and attention a lot. You faint at the wedding, and now you refuse to take off your wedding dress. Was the scandal on our engagement night not enough?" I said.
"You know," she looked at me. She was angry and it showed in her face.
"For someone who is in an arranged marriage you seem to care too much about my personal life."
I hated her even more now. So she was proud of the nonsense she did with no remorse at all? Did she say personal life? So we both had a right to sleep around even though we were married. Fine then. Game on! I stood up and walked out of her presence.