Psycho villain I Raised Wants to Marry Me-Chapter42 – Punishment

Atticus met his uncle’s stare without flinching. His voice was calm, even. "Uncle, it’s my money."
James frowned, his annoyance evident. “Atticus, that’s not how this works. We took you in, fed you, gave you a place to stay. You should be grateful.”
Grateful. That word again.
James had never wanted Atticus. Taking him in had been nothing more than for that compensation. And now? Now he was thinking. Calculating. That compensation was only two thousand dollars. His wife never stopped complaining about how raising another mouth was a burden. But if he dumped Atticus at an orphanage, they’d get nothing. The village would call him heartless.
Two thousand dollars was still money. James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His tone was gentler, coaxing. “Atticus, don’t make things difficult. Just give us the money.”
Atticus’ jaw clenched. “That money was left by my mother. It’s for my tuition next semester. I can take care of myself—I don’t need—”
SMACK.
Naomi’s hand struck across his face so hard the crack of it echoed in the small space. Atticus staggered, dropping to the floor from the sheer force of it. Jasper let out a delighted cackle.
Blood pooled at the corner of Atticus’ lips again, but he didn’t react. Didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes dark, eerie—something deep and twisted flickering behind them.
Naomi faltered. A cold shiver ran down her spine. For just a split second, she swore the boy looked like a demon. She shook the thought away, scowling. "Jasper, bring the rope."
James blinked. “Naomi, what are you doing?”
"Teaching him a lesson." She grabbed Atticus roughly, yanking his arms behind his back, binding his wrists tight. Jasper gleefully helped, kicking Atticus’ leg out from under him as they tied his feet together.
Atticus was being dragged—out the door, across the dirt, past the house—toward the straw shed. Beside it sat an old doghouse, its wooden frame weathered from time and rain. And next to it— A massive, snarling black dog. Its chain rattled as it snapped at the air, baring sharp teeth. The dog hated Atticus, because of Jasper's teaching.
Atticus stiffened. His fingers twitched against the rope. Naomi noticed. A slow, cruel smile stretched across her lips. "Oh?" she purred. "Finally scared?" Her voice was mocking, triumphant. "Too late."
She shoved him down into the dirt. "You’ll be sleeping here tonight. No money, no food." Jasper clapped his hands together, practically bouncing with excitement. “Yes! Bastards should sleep with the dogs.”
James hesitated. "Naomi, this is a little—"
"Relax." Naomi waved him off. "He won’t die. We’ll give him one meal a day, just enough to keep him breathing. That way, we don’t have to waste money and we still get to keep his cash."
Jasper nodded enthusiastically. "Mom’s right. He should stay out here like the stray he is."
"Mom, I’m starving."
Naomi turned, beaming. "Then let’s go eat. I bought fresh meat today." She led Jasper away, their laughter trailing behind them. Leaving Atticus in the dirt. Alone. With the dog. The beast growled low in its throat, inching closer, saliva dripping from its fangs.
That night, the sky tore open with heavy rain. Thunder cracked like a whip, and winds howled through the night, rattling the loose wooden planks of the shed. Though it was summer, the rain was frigid, soaking the earth in ice-cold sheets.
Inside the house, James and his family had eaten their fill and gone to bed, warm and dry.
Outside, Atticus sat in the darkness, shivering. He hadn’t eaten since morning, and hunger gnawed at his insides like a dull blade. The wind drove rain straight into the shed, drenching him completely, water dripping from his hair, sliding down his cheeks.
Across from him, the black dog stared, its yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. Then—
It lunged. Atticus barely had time to react before teeth sank into his leg.
A sharp, searing pain shot through him. With what little strength he had left, he struck the dog’s head, hard. It let go, snarling, but its eyes still burned, its stance low and ready to attack again.
Atticus’ limbs trembled—not from fear, but from exhaustion. His body was weak, starving. He could barely keep himself upright, let alone fend off a rabid animal.
The rain pounded harder. His breath was ragged. His vision blurred. Then the dog lunged again. This time, Atticus grabbed a thick wooden stick and swung.
The wood cracked against the dog's skull. A pained yelp tore through the night. But Atticus didn’t stop. Again. And again. The beast whimpered, its body convulsing, blood splattering across the mud—across Atticus’ hands, his soaked uniform, his face.
Lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating the scene for a split second—
The boy’s cold, lifeless eyes.
By the time he stopped, the dog lay motionless beneath him, its body mangled, its fur slick with rain and blood.
Atticus collapsed back against the wet ground, chest rising and falling in labored breaths.
His leg throbbed where he’d been bitten. Blood pooled around him, the crimson mixing with rainwater, swirling in the dirt like ink spilled across a page.
And then—darkness.
Morning came gray and cold. James stepped outside, expecting to find Atticus weak, starving, compliant. Ready to hand over the money.
Instead, he found the dog’s corpse. Its head was nothing more than a bloody, caved-in mess. Blood painted the ground in dark stains, soaking into the dirt.
And there, beside it, was Atticus—kneeling, silent, his skin pale, his body streaked with dried blood and rainwater.
His eyes were closed, but as James took a step closer, they snapped open. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then—
A scream. Naomi stormed out of the house, her shrill voice piercing the morning air. “You fucking bastard! You killed my dog!”
She snatched up a bamboo whip and brought it down—hard. A sharp, searing pain lashed across Atticus’ back. But he didn’t cry out.
Another hit. Then another. The sting was sharp, burning—but along with the pain came a cold, numbing clarity.
His fingers curled into the dirt. James shifted uncomfortably. “Naomi, that’s enough—”
“Enough?! This little shit is cursed! A jinx! First his parents die, now my dog? What’s next? You? Me?” She raised the whip again—
James caught her wrist. “You’ll kill him if you keep that up.”
Naomi huffed, shoving him off. With a final glare at Atticus, she tossed the whip aside and stalked off.
Jasper, meanwhile, stood at a distance, grinning. Seeing Atticus beaten to the ground, bruised and bloody, filled him with delight.
Miles away, Clarissa lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Since she had left Atticus’ house earlier that day, an uneasy feeling had gnawed at her chest.
On her way home, she had spotted a boy wandering by the roadside, searching for something.
She had pulled over, rolling down the window. “Hey there, little brother. What are you looking for?”
The boy looked up, startled. Then his eyes lit up at the sight of her. “I lost my money.”
Clarissa smiled, taking out a ten-dollar bill. “Here. I’ll give you this if you answer a few questions for me.”
The boy’s face brightened. “Really? Sure! What do you wanna know?”
Clarissa leaned forward. “Do you know a boy named Atticus at your school?”
“Yeah… Everyone knows Atticus. He’s famous. First in the grade, super smart, and… really good-looking.”