My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 79 Killing Spree

GRANT POV

WARNING: CHILD ABUSE / GRAPE / TRAUMA THEMES

It’s weird, calling your daughter to ask if her friend is back in the hostel, yeah?

But it’s also wrong — so wrong — for that same friend, my own girlfriend, to send me a voice note about how fucking Luca Vitellio is her "one true love."

I took the now warm mug of whiskey to my numb lips and hit play again. The voice note rolled through my head for what had to be the hundredth time. I know I’m punishing myself by listening, but I had to be sure it wasn’t some prank that maybe there was a hitch in her voice, some code, something forced... something.

What could have possibly happened?

Luca Vitellio chose the wrongest girl to love, and Nova chose the worst time to be a snitch.

I’d been dialing her number since I got the message, but the clown had her phone switched off. Probably bouncing on Luca’s dick the same way she bounced on mine days ago.

Maybe it was all a trick.

A ruse.

A setup to make me fall, to watch me unravel.

She wouldn’t be the first woman to deceive me, after all. But something about this one — this particular girl — breaks me deeper than any woman ever did.

I even had my dick pierced for her. To bring more sensation, to make her feel something real between us.

"Fuck you!" I screamed until my lungs burned, before drowning what was left in the cup in one angry gulp before throwing the cup against the wall, the crash didn’t do anything to make me feel better.

The whiskey scorched its way down, raw and cruel, it was a reminder that I was still alive. Unfortunately.

Then came the text.

A beep.

A sharp, single sound that could’ve split my skull open.

I picked up the phone immediately. It was past 3 a.m. I hadn’t slept a wink, but I was sure Luca and that clown were sleeping just fine or maybe not sleeping at all.

Nova’s message stared at me:

"It was a dare. And you lost "

I’ve never felt more stupid. More useless.

I scrolled up through our texts. The half-nude pictures. The hearts. The reassurances. All the small promises.

Was I really that much of a fool?

Was it really a game?

Was I that desperate to be loved?

"Yes, you are," the voice in my head whispered , that same cold, familiar voice I’ve spent my life trying to silence with alcohol, women, and control.

"You are such a useless kid. No one can love you."

The same voice that replaced bedtime stories when I was young.

"Boys like you don’t deserve love. You’re nothing. Just another plain kid who should’ve died."

I remember nodding to it and accepting it because what else was there?

Mother never loved me. She hated when I called her mother. She’d refuse to feed me, said my voice irritated her, and locked me away when "the important men" came, the ones who paid for her to "love them special."

Those nights, mother would have me hide under the bed. The frame creaked and groaned above me. The smell of sweat, cheap perfume, and whiskey filled the air until I could barely breathe.

Later, used condoms would roll off the bed and land somewhere near my hand. I’d finish their leftover alcohol after they left, because that was the only thing I could have until she decided I was "disciplined" enough for a meal.

She used to beat me for looking her in the eyes. For existing.

So I learned to live small. Quiet and Invisible.

Mother said love was expensive. That it came with pain. That she only gave it to people who deserved it.

Then one night, a new man came. He was bigger and louder than the rest.

I remember her haggling over the price, the bed squeaking as always and then the sound changed.

It started with a snap and a crack followed by a scream and not just any scream. It was mother’s scream.

He had said he had kinks. I thought he said kids. I thought I’d finally have someone my age to play with.

I ran out from under the bed terrified and scared for mother and then I saw her blindfolded, handcuffed, naked, on all fours. The man held a whip.

He knew I was watching. I’m sure of it.

He kept hitting her until her skin split and blood ran down her back. Then he forced himself into her mouth. I didn’t know if her sounds were pain or pleasure. I hid again, trembling.

When he left, she smiled at me, really smiled for the first time in years.

She told me love was expensive, that it came with discipline, and that she’d only ever loved me because I’d learned not to disturb her.

That night she cooked dinner. Real food. She gave me clean clothes. She even enrolled me in school. I thought the man had saved us.

After that, I stopped caring when I heard her moaning again at night. If that’s what kept her smiling and me fed, so be it.

But years later, after I was too big to hide under the bed anymore, she said it again, those words that never stopped bleeding inside me:

"You don’t deserve to be loved. You’re nothing. No one will ever love you."

I believed her.

Even when Bianca came into my life. Even when her family welcomed me in. Even when I started to think maybe I was wrong about everything.

But then Bianca got pregnant with Lena. We married because we had to, and when her father wasn’t home, her mother came into my room.

I thought it was Bianca until the mouth wrapped around me got too skilled and too confident. I was drunk, too drunk to move.

After that, I couldn’t look at her the same.

The next time she came, I was sober. She told me I didn’t deserve love, not from their family, not from anyone.

That I was just a tool. And once I stopped being useful, I’d end up another body in a canal.

After that, I let her ride me in silence, every night, until Lena was born and we finally moved out.

I’ve never been loved. Never truly. I’ve always been the void where love should’ve lived.

So when Bianca left me for another man, it didn’t hurt, not really. I was already used to it.

Since then, I swore: I’d go through women like clothes. Feel nothing. Want nothing. Love no one. Not even my daughter, she carries the same blood as her mother, the same venom.

But somehow Nova slipped through.

She cracked open a part of me I’d buried deep.

I bought her gifts, little things, pretending it was just another transaction. A game. A lie I could control. But she made me feel again.

And now she’s made me pay for it.

So I’ll pay the world back in kind.

I’ll kill everyone involved. Then I’ll kill myself.

My first stop would be Vitellio’s biggest warehouse.

I’m burning that shit to the ground.

Let’s see who lasts longer in this betrayal — them or me!