Reflections - The Neighbourhood

SYNN'S POV:

I never was a jealous person. Whatever I wanted, I could have in the palm of my hand. In fact, it wasn't until I reached the age of eight that I was forced to understand the emotion.

Many years ago in Málaga, the sun was glaring vehemently down on the fountain in the courtyard until each droplet of water turned into a diamond in the light. There was something sticky about the heat, as if the sky were a damp, blue cloth with sunbeams pouring through. Carmelos and I were crouching in our sandals over the hot bricks of the driveway. Pieces of coloured chalk clutched tightly in our hands, we scribbled and tossed stones into boxes we'd drawn, then argued over who had cheated and splashed water in the other's direction.

That was the day my father brought home Isla.

I couldn't understand why he bought a dog when we already had another at home, but he didn't care to explain things to me. Upon her arrival, a slither of prejudice curled through me at the sight of her. She was a beautiful creature, no doubt. She had a brindled coat and slender ears, slender eyes and a slender frame, but there was something which I couldn't quite place on her that made me wary.

I had always been close to our family dog, Sancho. He was a large dog, as large as two eight year old boys could be. His fur was white-silver with an extravagant scruff around his neck and he had a pair of bright blue eyes, just like mine. As soon as I saw him, I recognised that look in his eye. It felt like staring into a distorted mirror. My reflection stared back.

Ever since I was a toddler, Sancho had lived every day beside me. He ate beside me, slept beside me, played beside me. Despite the number of times Carmelos would try to steal him from me and state he liked him better, the dog's lolling tongue and tilting head would always turn back to me. There was something about his loyalty that comforted me: his desire to be petted, the eager wagging of his tail in anticipation of my arrival from school, his vulnerability. It all appealed to my kiddish need for attention.

But with time, Isla became the family favourite.

No matter what shape or form, the new dog outdid Sancho in every way. She was more refined than him, better tamed than him, as sweet as a lemon drop could be; because there was a certain austerity to her gaze that could cut blades. My mother and father loved her better and there was a part of me which knew there was something special about her. I could deny it no longer.

One day, I found Sancho gently chewing at Isla's favourite toy - a brown stuffed bunny. He had never done that before. With wide eyes, eyes wider than a newborn's, he gnawed at the material as I watched him with a frown. It was almost as if he was... copying her.

I asked my father about it the next morning.

"Why is Sancho doing that? He has lots of toys. He doesn't even like that one."

He let a cigarette tilt from the corner of his mouth, smoke swirling into the air of his office.

"Perhaps he feels threatened."

"Threatened?"

Removing the cigarette, he stabbed out the glowing embers into a little pot. My nose wrinkled at the smell. How could anyone smoke those things?

"Have you ever seen a jealous animal before, mijo?" he asked.

[My boy.]

I shook my head.

"When an animal is jealous, they respond in one of two ways." My father rose from his chair and withdrew a knife from one of his drawers, making my young eyes widen and my breath catch in my throat like a fly. "They either resort to hiding, cowering, making useless attempts to catch attention from their owners or mates." Carefully, he placed the tip of the knife under my chin and tilted my head upwards. He smiled a vicious smile. "Or they attack."

"Papá, wh-why are you-"

"Shh, remember what I told you to call me?"

I swallowed shakily, the sharp tip gently nudging against my voicebox.

"Maestro... I-I don't understand."

[Master.]

He tapped the knife once, twice under my chin, then drew it away with a nod.

"You will."

Later, a fitful night of sleep awaited me as I tossed and turned in bed. Sweat lined my forehead and my lower limbs like a glove wrapped around each digit. What did my father mean? Feeling threatened? Cowering or attacking? My mind couldn't process the ideas he'd touched upon in his office, no matter how hard I tried.

From that day on, I observed Sancho's behaviour from corners of the room. When Isla was away and the attention was on him, again he'd play with that stuffed toy, kicking and chewing at it like a puppy. He seemed agitated. There was a tiredness in his once glittering blue eyes, an anxiety rippling over his fur and invading his mind. It was only when he was by my side at night that I caught a glimpse of the dog I'd spent every day with in his gaze.

One fateful afternoon, Isla entered the room bloodied.

I could remember the scent, thick and coppery; the way her tongue lolled and the way her amber eyes glowed victoriously; the red stains that crusted the fur near her mouth. Frantically, I searched for my other dog but it was to no avail. It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth.

We found Sancho dead in the courtyard the next morning.

I didn't let anyone touch him.

I bawled. Held my knees. Rocked myself back and forth beside my best friend's unmoving body until the sun sank in the sky and hot flames burned us both. Hate swelled inside me towards the bitch that had done this. I'd hurt her, just like she hurt him. I'd kill her.

Finally, I dared to stroke Sancho's fur. My fingers shook as they ran through the cold hairs by his ears and softly rub his snout.

That was when I found the cigarette in his mouth.

Father's cigarette.

"Did you do it?"

"Do what, mijo?" he said as he sipped the whiskey from his glass by the window. I slammed my fist on his desk. Tears blurred my vision and he slowly turned his head to arch a brow at me.

[My boy.]

"Did you kill Sancho?" I ground out.

A twisted grin spread across his mouth.

I grabbed one of the glasses from his desk and smashed it on the floor. Shards flew up in the air but I didn't care. There was so much hate. So much anger inside me.

"How could you?" I screeched. "How could you do that to him? You bastardo-"

[Bastard.]

I felt a sharpness land across my right cheek and fell to the wooden floor in a heap of sobs. Weakly, I tried to push myself up but I couldn't. Glass had pierced my hands. Sancho. My poor Sancho. How could he live with a man like this?

"He was no longer fit for this house," my father answered in that cool, unwavering voice of his. My eyes blurred with more tears and low moans of sorrow left my mouth. "He was an old and useless creature who served no purpose other than teaching you what it takes to survive in this home. To survive out there. He was envious, wasn't he? He was envious of our bitch and yet what did you see?" He stepped in front of me and crouched down, blocking the sun from behind him. "He lost to Isla. He was weak."

"Weak? He was just a dog!"

"Silence!" I muffled my cries with one hand. My father stared down at me, eyes a complete void which held nothing but contempt. "In this world, you are either weak or you are strong. You either fight for what you want and you win, or you suffer at the bottom. Those mutts fought. Sancho was weak, Isla was stronger. Don't you see?"

He furled his fingers around my polo shirt and yanked me closer until I could smell the tobacco on his breath.

"You will learn, Synn. You will learn what it takes to fight and become strong, or I will make you end up like him." His finger stretched out like an arrow towards the dying light now delicately grazing the dead body of my dog. "Jealousy is powerful, but it is also a weakness. You feel threatened? You want something someone else has?

"You're going to find a way to take it."

—

"Jefe."

[Boss.]

"Jefe."

[Boss.]

"Synn, you're going to kill him."

My fist landed a final time in a crushing blow against the man's cheek, knocking his head against the chair. Flexing my fingers, I released the rail of the chair and stepped back.

I was sweating. A drop trickled from my hair and landed on my forearm. Breathing out loudly, I threw my head back and ran my fingers through the wet strands. I could taste blood on my tongue, thick and corrupt as the sawdust in the air. I didn't realise how heated I'd become until Carmelos' voice rang out and put a stop to my reveries, drawing me back to the reality in front of me - and it wasn't a pleasant sight.

The prisoner's face was almost unrecognisable. Wounds had ruptured at his temples, his cheeks, his nose and his left eye, blood streaming down his face and from his parted lips. His face resembled the flesh of a plum and the rest of its juices dripped from my hand. Blood painted my rings a cardinal red and overpowered the black of my tattoos. Cursing under my breath, I slipped the rings intomy palm and looked over Carmelos, beside me who was eyeing my hands rather carefully.

He passed me a cloth without a word. Swiftly, I wiped my hand and proceeded to clean my rings whilst examining the prisoner.

I'd gone too far, but he would come back to his senses in a day or two.

And then he would talk.

"Clean up this mess," I ordered in Spanish, nodding at the man strapped to the chair. "And tell Emilio to keep an eye on when he wakes. I'd like to speak with him again."

Carmelos slowly nodded his head.

Fixing the bands around my fingers, I turned and stalked out of the room.

Water dripped from the stone ceiling, leaving shallow puddles down the corridor of the prison. Unlike most jails, this one was silent. Not a word whispered past my skin as I walked, most prisoners having lost hope of daylight ever sweeping through their fingers. My footsteps echoed down the dark hallway.

It had been a long time since I'd lost control like that. I would have liked to say I didn't know why I was acting in such a way, but as Thea's image flashed before my eyes and I watched her soft lips move, her long lashes flutter, and a familiar rouge dust over her brown cheeks, the memory was fortified tenfold. There was nothing I could do to forget her words or the way they sliced through me.

She liked someone else.

How could such a beautiful emotion be the cause of such pain? I was so used to controlling my surroundings and those around me to see that I had no control over the very girl who inhabited my every thought and dream. Her heart was a butterfly breaking out of its chrysalis; velvet wings with an iridescent glow, there would be no end to her curiosity of the world around her. Of the flowers within her reach. Of the sweet nectar she would find and the thorns subtly hidden away.

I couldn't fault her when she was so innocent, but the thought of who had won Thea's heart over made me uneasy. She had told me about her fear and it only made me want to protect her and shield her from the brutality of men who would go after her, but if she already had feelings for a man, I didn't know how I could keep her safe. I needed her safe, and the safest place for her to be was in my fucking arms.

My arms.

I was so absorbed by my emotions that I almost didn't hear the footsteps following after me. One moment I was alone and the next, Carmelos was striding beside me. He'd clearly disregarded my instructions, as per usual. Instead, he examined me through the corner of his eye with a tilt of his head, not saying a word.

With an incensed sigh, I asked, "What?"

"Nothing," he said and shrugged, "It's just been a while since you did something like... that."

"Are you insinuating something?"

"What?" he replied with wide eyes, placing his hand on his chest. "Me? Insinuating something? Of course not." Leaning forward, I watched the corner of his mouth tug upwards in annoyance. "I was just wondering if that display back there had anything to do with a certain girl called, I don't know..."

"Don't even try, Carmelos." The warning in my eyes was clear, and a testament to punishment if he tried pushing my buttons. Things seemed to fall into place for him. His lips spread into a coy grin which he didn't try hiding, and he mildly clasped his hands behind his back as we walked down the dimly lit corridor. Again, his silence bothered me and I was inclined to talk again, although gritting my teeth. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said, his voice rising an octave. Innocently, he glanced at me, then back at the floor in front. "Relationship problems?"

Clenching my hand, we approached the stairs. "I doubt if you knew my problems, you'd be able to fix them," I answered.

"What makes you think my advice would be bad? In fact, I'm an expert on relationships."

I laughed bitterly. "Really? That explains why you have such a successful, thriving relationship with your girlfriend, no?"

"Okay, first of all, fuck off."

I shook my head at him.

"Two, at least I appreciate the joys of being single. No commitment, no worries. That's why me and Emilio get along so well."

I wasn't sure how true that statement was but I didn't have the energy to argue with him.

"And C, I'll still give you my advice because I know you need it, even though you won't ask."

Surprised by his honesty, I stayed quiet as we opened the doors. Daylight momentarily confounded our senses. My men stood waiting, hands folded in front of their crotches, heads facing forward. None moved a muscle as we passed them. Each had been trained until their obedience matched that of a tamed canine, eyes eagerly searching for an order to satiate their hunger. Fear was the collar around their throats.

Knowing that Carmelos would never get around to it, I pulled a boy in and murmured, "Make Emilio aware I want to see him about one of our prisoners. It's important."

Instantly, he nodded with bright eyes. "Yes, Jefe. Right away, Jefe."

[Boss.]

I clapped him on the shoulder and turned, unlocking the door to my office. The door opened to reveal the familiar dimensions of mahogany and the hearth glowing warm reds and oranges beside my desk. We stepped inside and Carmelos shut the door behind us. Instinctively, my eyes made their way to the glass cabinet beside my desk. I walked towards it and pulled out the decanter of whiskey, admiring the sunset bottled inside for a moment. Setting it on the table, I lowered myself into my chair.

"Okay," Carmelos announced with a loud clap, "Let's get started."

"What advice could you possibly give me?" I sighed and poured the whiskey into a glass.

"First of all, what's the problem between you two?"

I paused, the liquid stopping at the opening of the decanter. Thickly, I swallowed. Thea's words were tattooed in my mind and there was no method of removal of such ink.

Witnessing her cheeks glow that familiar red was enough to shatter my heart completely, and it made me realise that not only could I not control Thea, but I had no control over myself. Of my emotions. Of this stupid feeling inside my chest whenever I saw the girl smile or bite her lip in that innocently seductive sort of way that only she could pull off. To think that she was daydreaming about another man or woman had jealousy infecting my blood like a rabid disease.

I wanted her.

I wanted to fucking have her, but-

"She... has feelings for someone else."

The words burned my mouth like acid. As soon as they left me, I was downing the whiskey and washing the taste from my tongue - instead replacing it with a familiar smokiness. The drink left a scorching path down my throat but this one was pleasurable.

Carmelos leaned against the door and folded his arms over his chest in contemplation. "Well fuck, that's harder than I thought," he muttered. When he tilted his head back, his mop of untameable curls bounced in response. I set the glass down on the desk but kept it in my grasp. "Do you know who the bastard is?"

"No," I said and looked away.

For a moment, he stared at me. "Does she have any male friends you know about?"

"No."

"What about female friends?"

"I only know of her best friend- Emily, or something," I replied and poured more whiskey into the empty tumbler, golden colours splashing against the glass. Raising the tumbler to my lips, I let the drink slide down my throat, then paused. "And some bitch at her school. Not a friend. Just a bitch."

"So her circle is quite small, I'm guessing. That narrows down the suspects."

Carmelos hummed to himself and examined me. Then, he pushed himself off the wall and approached the desk. I watched him lower himself on top of it, crossing one leg over the other, and my eyes narrowed. If I were in my right mind, I would have grabbed him by the collar but he could sense I wasn't in any position to be starting fights - not when I was already at war with myself and the anger inside me. His eyes drifted over to the picture of my mother on the wall, then back to me.

"How does she act around you?"

I dropped the glass down on the desk and pushed my chair back. "What the fuck is this, Carmelos? An interrogation?" I replied with a glare.

"Calm down, I'm just trying to get a picture of the whole situation," he said defensively. "I don't even know what she looks like!'

"And you won't for a long time."

"What? Scared she'll like me more?" he grinned.

My eyes blazed.

"I was kidding- you know I was kidding!"

I murmured some curses under my breath and looked towards the fireplace. Flames transformed the coal into transient beauties, ribbons of light flickering upwards. There was a part of me that wished to pass my fingers through the fire and replace this heat inside me with tangible pain, the scorching of skin, the smell of burnt flesh. It was a dark thought, but I knew the sensation would be less painful than the thoughts that came to mind.

"Synn, answer the question," Carmelos sighed, but it was more of a plea than a demand. It was rare that he called me by my name but I allowed it when we were alone, never in public.

"She's scared of me," I murmured.

"What do you mean?"

I turned my eyes from the fire and looked at my brother. "She's frightened of me," I said. "She's been scared of me from the beginning."

"So, how does she behave?"

"Her... eyes get big. Really big. It's like she can barely keep eye contact with me... her hands get sweaty too, and her breathing grows heavier. You should hear how heavily she breathes when she's around me." A strange smile crossed my mouth and I brought the heels of my palms to my eyes, pushing them closed. "She's fucking terrified of me, Carmelos. I've scared her more than once. She has every right to be scared of me and that's what makes me so..."

The man stared at me from my desk, no expression, merely watching.

"Wow, you're stupider than I thought."

I lowered my hands.

"What?"

For some reason, there was a shit-eating grin on his face. Glee danced about in his eyes like the sparks flying from the flames. I narrowed my eyes at him. It looked as if he'd figured something out, something which I couldn't quite place myself.

"I'm not saying anything," he said and slapped his hands on his thighs. He looked at the invisible watch on his wrist. "Would you look at the time? I think it's time for me to head out."

"Speak," I demanded. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Thinking? What's that? Haven't heard of it." Carmelos shrugged with a grin and moved towards the door, but before he unlocked it, he turned to look over his shoulder. "This is something you have to figure out yourself, brother. Think about what I asked."

With that, he left the room, and I was left to my thoughts.

Frustratedly, I poured myself another drink. I raised the brimming glass to my lips, then stopped. I stared at the liquid.

What was I doing getting drunk in the daytime? I didn't know. I felt like a teenager welcoming the rush of dangerous opportunities once more, the rush of alcohol and the wind in my hair as I cruised down empty roads on my bike. But more than anything, I felt like Sancho. I didn't know why I was remembering him nor his round, desperate eyes. I could practically feel his fur beneath my fingertips, but it was only my own hand. I felt... weak.

Thinking of Lorenzo wasn't something I enjoyed but his words ran in my blood as much as his DNA, helical structures that looped and wound through my every action: "You want something someone else has? You're going to find a way to take it."

I was a little boy again, hands full of glass and eyes full of tears. Above me stood my father.

Jealousy. So this was what he had been on about all this time.

What a cruel emotion.

The sound of a ping from my phone made me pause.

I stared at the whiskey in my hand. Silently, I contemplated whether it was worth the look. Most times, I would leave the message to simmer; if something was important, I'd receive a call or meet with someone in person. But something told me it was important I looked and after a moment, I gave into temptation and pulled out my phone.

My entire body froze once I saw the name on the screen.

Thea.

Fingers moving swiftly, I unlocked my phone and checked the message she had sent me. I frowned.

T: Are you angry with me?

Angry? How could I ever be angry at her? Unless... I cursed myself. I hoped I hadn't been too cold with her in the car that day. I didn't want her overthinking about any of my actions, nor my silence.

S: Of course not, Thea. What makes you say that?

Another ping.

T: I haven't seen you since a few days ago

T: And I saw you hit your car :(

Fuck.

T: Is your hand okay?

At her reminder, I glanced at my palm. I hadn't bothered to bandage it, despite how deep it was. Even though the edges had crusted over, if I extended my fingers too far, the wound would reopen as it had done a few times already.

T: If it's still bleeding, I think it's best for you to run it under cold water and disinfect it or something

T: And put a plaster on it

T: But if you don't have any, my dad keeps some in the kitchen so I can give you one if you need it

T: They have little dinosaurs on them though so I'm not sure if you want them

T: Sorry for bothering you! I'll leave you alone now shjsjdjs

I couldn't help but break out into a smile at her replies. She sounded so nervous, it was absolutely adorable. Here she was, fretting over a meaningless hand injury of mine after I'd just beaten someone bloody. It was almost laughable. But I wanted to keep her in the dark. I didn't want her to know that side of me. I didn't need her innocence being tarnished by my dark deeds.

S: You're cute, but don't worry. I'm taking care of it so don't get distracted from your homework, okay?

T: How did you know I was doing homework?? o.O

S: Lucky guess.

S: Now don't let me distract you or I'm afraid I won't stop.

T: Okayyy :p

T: Make sure you get a plaster though

S: Thea. Stop responding.

T: Wait I have a question

S: You don't really listen, do you?

T: Hhhh I just wanted to ask

T: Are you going to pick me up from school again?

I paused. Thoughts of seeing her blush again burrowed into my mind and for a moment, I was completely set on seeing her; but then doubt crawled inside. I imagined her thinking of another boy as that rosy flush appeared on her cheeks, mind adrift like a dreamy boat at sea. I didn't know if I could control my anger around her with that knowledge and the last thing I wanted was to scare her again.

But, my desires won the battle.

S: Do you want me to pick you up?

My head swirled as I waited for her response. Letting out a slow breath, I lowered the glass of whiskey and covered my face with my hands. Patience, Synn. Control yourself. She's just a girl. Just a simple girl. You're not going to die if she takes longer than five minutes to reply.

I could feel my head starting to buzz from the alcohol. My phone screen flashed and I clenched my jaw, not wanting to read the painful words of her rejection. Impatient curiosity got the better of me, however, and I clumsily swiped to her message.

T: Mayyyybe

My heart thudded erratically.

S: Maybe?

T: I just don't wanna distract you from more important things ._.

S: You're more important, baby.

She didn't reply after that. I would have liked to think that she was too flustered to respond, and her acceptance of my offer only rekindled my lost flame of hope. But softly, I cooled the fire. Being in her mere presence and protecting her would suffice for now.

S: I'll pick you up from school tomorrow.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I paused, questioning whether I should send the next part of my message or not, but the image of her doe eyes and soft, pouty lips reemerged in my head and decided it. A stupid smile caught my lips as I typed out the message.

S: Be a good girl for me.

*****

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Hey fudglings!

Ahhh it's been a while since I updated but I wasn't feeling very well last week :( I hope this makes up for it!! I absolutely love writing in Synn's perspective HE'S MY LITTLE PERFECT BABY

What did you guys think? Thoughts on Synn's memories with his father? Bro I actually did research into how animals behave to make it accurate ._. MY POOR BABY THOUGH wtf his father crazy- And the contrast when he's with Thea? From beating a man unconscious to getting all sappy with his girl 😩 we love the duality. BUT SHJJKSKA SEEING HIM SO INSECURE AND TORN MAKES ME SO UPSET HE HAS NO FREAKING CLUE and I love Carmelos so much man I MISSED HIM SO MUCH. I wanted to portray their friendship in a different light this time because Synn used to be very cold with Carmelos but no they best buds in this one (even though Synn still wants to beat him up)

I've been buying stuff for my new room at university and it's exciting but also so annoying??? HOW DO PEOPLE MAKE THEIR ROOMS AESTHETIC. TELL ME. I've never been able to keep my room aesthetic. I have random stuff everywhere and even though I keep my room tidy and organised-ish, it just never looks super beautiful :( ALSO I AM SO UPSET because I found out one of my favourite lecturers passed away. I ONLY HAD HIM FOR ONE PRACTICAL LESSON BUT HE WAS THE SWEETEST, COOLEST PERSON and we were supposed to have him for our pharmacology lectures this year ,_, I hope his family are handling it well

I also made scones and they were really yum ._. why did nobody tell me they were a british delicacy for a reason. And I started watching F1 racing and omg- I LOVE IT. WHY AM I ONLY DISCOVERING IT NOW?

Potato question of the day: Are you a competitive person?

Bro 😤 I'm a super DUPER competitive person. Obviously there are times where that's a good thing because it helps you go places but my competitive nature is almost uNhEaLtHy. I can take things lightly to a certain extent but then I reach a point where I just a n g r y and focused and I just have to win. My friends have literally told me I'm terrifying. I try not to be so competitive but my parents raised me in this way which makes me expect more and more from myself so if I don't win, I start questioning why I didn't win and how I could be better. It's really frustrating because it means I get invested in things too easily but I'm working on it 🤧

Anyway, thank you so much for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please do vote, comment and share this book with your friends! I love you guys!

- Fudge x