Craving Love เสือหิวไม่เลือกน้อง

Rhea POV – 8 years old

“Sweetie… don’t look, mummy… ah…” my mother, Aveline, said, gripping the sheet tightly with a strange man on top of her.

I had come home earlier to get a glass of water before going back to play with my friends at the field when I heard her screams. I thought she was in trouble.

Maybe we were getting robbed again. She always told me that if that happened, I should run and hide instead.

But I couldn’t.

Her cries were getting louder, and that’s how I ran into this scene.

“Mama!” I yelled, rushing toward her and hitting the strange man. “Get away from my mummy!”

“Get off me, you brat!” the man growled, shoving me aside with one hand.

I landed hard on the floor, hitting my head on a wooden shelf.

Tears welled up in my eyes as broken sobs escaped my lips.

“I’m okay… sweetie, mummy is working,” my mother said. Her voice was shaky, like she was out of breath, and another whimper escaped her lips. “This is work, okay? Go outside and play with Kenzie.”

I couldn’t see her face. I could only hear her voice as she spoke, because the man had his back turned to me. He was moving back and forth really fast, and the bed squeaked every time.

“Yeah, get out of here. Your mom’s doing serious work.” He chuckled darkly.

I whimpered as her screams got louder and her legs started to shake. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I forced myself to my feet.

Mama said it was work, so I shouldn’t disturb her… but something still didn’t feel right.

I had seen many men come into the house before. Usually, I was always at Kenzie’s place and came back later in the evening, so I never really knew what kind of work it was. I didn’t know it made her scream like that. I didn’t know it hurt her.

Just to be sure she was okay, I waited outside our small house, counting stones and kicking empty bottles until her screaming finally died down.

A few minutes later, the front door creaked open.

A man stepped out, fixing his pants, and my body trembled as his eyes landed on me — still crouched in the corner, holding a stick.

Now that I could see his face clearly, he didn’t look as scary as I imagined, except for the scar running over where his left eye was supposed to be… and the cigarette hanging from his lips.

He started walking toward me, and I scrambled back until my back hit the wall. Then he crouched down in front of me.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“R… Rhea…” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Rhea.” He repeated, tasting my name on his lips. “That’s a nice name. But it doesn’t complement your appearance, does it? I’ll call you… mutt.”

He smirked, exhaling a puff of smoke that made me cough.

I clutched the stick tighter until my knuckles turned white. Seeing this, the man only chuckled.

“What are you gonna do with that, huh? Hit me again?”

I didn’t answer. I wanted to cry.

“Your mom’s a good worker, kid. Real good.” He grinned, leaning in closer.

“Pedro…!” Mama’s voice came from behind.

My gaze shifted. She was standing by the door. Her dress was half-buttoned and her hair a mess. She looked exhausted, but her fist was clenched so tight.

Pedro slowly turned his head, and his grin widened even more.

“When I heard you had a daughter, I didn’t know she’d be this beautiful,” he said, eyes dragging over me. “But I guess she takes after her mother. Might be worth more than you one day.”

“She’s just a child!” Mama snapped, her voice louder this time. She took a step forward, but she looked like she was scared to take another.

Pedro only chuckled. “Weren’t we all?” he said simply, dropping the cigarette to the floor. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a piece of candy, stretching it out toward me.

I stared at the candy… then at my mother.

“Your mother won’t mind,” he whispered, snapping my gaze back to him. Slowly, I reached for it.

He smiled warmly, then ruffled my hair before slowly getting up and walking back to my mother. He pulled out his wallet and counted a few dollar bills, handing them to her.

So it was really work.

My mom took it with shaky hands, clutching it tightly. But then I watched as he reached for her chin, tilting her head upwards, and began leaning closer.

“Not in front of my daughter,” my mother whispered, her eyes darting to me, then back at him.

I heard him huff, then he pulled away. “I’ll book again for next week,” he said, brushing his thumb against her lip. Then he turned and began walking away. “And nice to meet you, mutt,” he added without looking back.

I remained crouched in the corner, staring at the candy in my hand for a long time. It was red. Strawberry, maybe. I like strawberry.

“I told you to go to Kenzie’s,” my mother said finally.

“I came to get water,” I whispered.

She didn’t say anything after that. I watched her rub her hands over her arms like she was cold, even though it was warm. Then she turned around and headed inside.

I followed her in. The house smelled strange now. The bed looked like a mess.

“Throw that away,” my mother said softly as she poured water from the jug into a glass cup. “Don’t eat it.”

I nodded and walked to the tiny trash can in the corner, dropping the candy into it. My hand didn’t feel clean, so I rubbed it on my shirt.

“Here,” she said, now standing beside me and handing me the glass of water. I took it with both hands, drinking slowly while Mom watched me.

Suddenly her eyes widened in horror. She reached out and pulled a strand of my hair.

“The dye… why is it fading?” she whispered.

I didn’t understand why she looked so scared. She had colored my hair black to match hers, rubbing cheap dye into my white hair until they looked the same.

But now, the white streaks were starting to show at the roots.

“We should fix it,” she said, gently guiding me to the washbasin. She rummaged through the cabinet until she found the half-used box of dye.

“Mama,” I whispered as her hands worked through my hair.

“Hmmm?”

“Why does it matter? Why don’t you want to show my real hair?”

“Because white hair is special, Rhea. And special things…” she murmured, “special things get taken away.”

A cold droplet slid down my neck, and she sniffled.

“There,” she said at last, wiping her stained fingers on her already ruined dress. “All gone.”