Page 60 of Angel

“You killed me, son. You fucking killed me.” The corpse of my foster father twitches alive, rising in an awkward, slow manner. His arms come forward and toward me like a zombie almost. And I scurry away on my heels, but my back hits the wall with nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Tears pour down my face.

“N-no, get away from me!”

“You fucking killed me!”

My body jerks awake and I fly upright, sweat pouring down my face and my heart hammering out of my chest. But it felt so real…

I look around, frantically trying to remember where I’m at. I gasp for air in order to regain some oxygen, but the room spins. And it’s as if I can’t breathe. Then I feel someone’s hand on me. I jerk away, my open palm flying up and closing around their throat.

“Venom, it’s o-okay. It’s okay. It’s me—Angel.” Her kind touch brings me out of the darkness. Her gentle, soft palm on my cheek brings me back to her.

Fuck. I drop my hand from her delicate throat and run my fingers through my hair, my breathing still frantic.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” I tell her, my voice trembling. I’m sweating, panicking like a goddamn pussy. But with just one look into those blue eyes, eyes like the sky, I’m calm. She chased away my demons with a single touch. The panic’s gone, and the only thing I’m left with are my labored respirations.

I touch my cheeks when I realize what I thought was sweat is actually tears. My chest becomes heavy with emotion, and I can’t stop the sudden gush of waterworks. The unwanted tears roll down my face, causing my body to shudder. What is this? Am I actually fucking crying? I haven’t cried in years. Not since...

“Hey.” She scoots closer, this savior of mine. This angelic creature from the heavens pulls me to her warm chest and cradles me with her hands. I bury my head in her naked, soft skin, welcoming the comfort. There are no thoughts of lust. Just her security holding me, soothing me, and I let the water from my eyes fall on her bare shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

For the first time in my life, I let myself go. Let all the emotions rush out of me like the evil is escaping my body. The safety of her embrace is saving me, and I fucking let it. I wrap my arms around her as I cry like I’m a kid again at my parents’ funeral.

“I killed him,” I tell her, and her body freezes. But it only takes a few seconds for her to relax again. She hugs me tighter, cradling the back of my head as I lay my cheek on her soft breast. And she rocks me like a child. “I killed him. I was a fucking kid, and I murdered that bastard. I’m a killer, Angel. A monster. What kind of kid kills people?” I choke out the words for the first time. Ever. And it all leaves.

The hate.

The torment.

The beasts.

The buried secrets of my past.

They all leave. Escape me. Flee. And it’s as if a weight has been lifted.

She pushes me away, just enough to stare into my tear-soaked eyes. Why isn’t she scared of me? I just told her I murdered someone. She should be scared—she needs to be scared of me. But instead of fear, it’s understanding she offers.

“Whatever reason you had to kill him, I know it was because you had no other choice. Did he hurt you, Venom?” I don’t answer, and I don’t tell her who it was. I’ve already said too much. But the way she’s so accepting of this, I can’t bear it.

I shake my head. “No. I can’t do this.” I jump out of bed, grabbing my shirt and shoes on the way out, before whipping the door open and slamming it violently.

Without looking back, I leave her in the darkness. I needed to get out of there. Needed to breathe again. I can’t see her looking at me like it was okay. Like all of it was just fine.

She needs to hate me. I need her to fucking hate me.

TWENTY

Angel

The memory of holding Venom in my arms is burned into me like a scar. Holding him last night while he cried made my heart ache for him. I was starting to see him—really see him. Not the monster, the snake, we all think him to be. But this tortured human, this person who is suffering with a past he can’t escape. I know that feeling all too well. Such a strong man on the surface, physically. But on the inside, he is struggling and hurting.

Any normal person would have run away from him last night. But me? I get him. Coming from a world where sometimes we don’t have any other choice, I get it. If he did it, I believe it was to protect himself or someone else. After all, he said he was only a kid.

All the things we thought we knew about Venom. This poisonous man we believed him to be. I’m beginning to think none of it’s true. And it makes me fall harder for him. Admitting that terrifies me more than him taking someone else’s life.

I finish zipping my boot when the motel door swings open. We make eye contact for just a brief moment, and I know he’s ashamed, but he shouldn’t be. I understand him. He never came back last night. I don’t know where he ended up, but I’m glad he’s here now. I’m glad he’s safe.

His eyes are bloodshot from the lack of sleep, and I want to say something, but I don’t know what. We share the awkward quiet before he grabs clean clothes, heads for the bathroom, and slams the door shut. The water turns on and I wait. I sit and wait. Why? Because I don’t know what else to do. I’m not going to ask him about last night, ask him to discuss what happened. He’s not that kind of person, and I don’t want to trigger anything again. I know him, understand him more than he thinks I do.

At the sound of bikes, I peek out the door. Is it my club looking for me? Although, I think it’s fated… what I know will happen… They’ll probably take my patch.

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