Page 166 of A Love Like Venom

Oak smirks. "Thought you would never ask."

After Oak follows me in the gym hours pass us by. Each hit from my fists isn't enough. Every kick to my body still doesn't allow me to feel the pain that I need.

After Oak leaves, bloody and bruised I'm still wrestling with my own demons. Beating myself up better than what he had done. The physical pain doesn't bother me, it never has. It's the mental beating that fucks me up the worst every time.

The self loathing for fucking up the one good thing I have in my life.

God, I was so fucking close to having everything I ever wanted.

I finally have someone who loves me. Not just loves me but fucking completes me. She accepts the darkness I carry and calls it beautiful. Me, beautiful. She calls me her moon, the light shinning on her darkest days.

Alice Hall sees the real me and she loves me.

And my god do I love her.

The future seems out of reach now. The light she casts in my life dimming. A beautiful word she has given me finally showing its decay.

So fucking close . . .

I was so fucking close to having it all.

My already busted knuckles spray blood with each hit I land on the punching bag. The blood spits back from the bag and onto my bare chest.

The pain isn't there, it's in my heart.

Punch after punch I continue to hit the bag no matter how torn up my knuckles are.

The bag begins to stain with crimson.

Just one more hit. That's all I need. Just one more . . .

"Reed.” Her soft yet tentative voice calls out to me clearing the red haze.

My arms fall to my sides. Blood drips from my hand collecting on the floor. The bag swings violently back and forth. The chains rattling and my ragged breaths the only thing either of us can hear.

Her light footsteps cross the gym. She moves at a fast pace despite the doom impending before her.

If she stops now and turns around she can save herself from the pain.

Yet she doesn't.

When she reaches me a gasp leaves her lips. Daring to look in her eyes she stares down at my hands with sorrow. With a frown on her pretty lips she takes my bloody hands in hers.

She carefully examines my knuckles, brushing her fingers softly over the open wounds.

I don't even wince or hiss from the contact.

"Oh Reed, what have you done?" Her eyes are sad and her voice is worried.

"Nothing compared to what I'm about to do," I reply gloomily.

Wiping my blood on the end of her shirt she then goes to palm the side of my face. At first I jerk away from her touch. Shame fills me to the core. Her hand stays frozen in the air. Rejection fills her eyes. Seeing that I've caused that stabs me right in the heart.

Wanting to fix it I go to lean into her touch. Tears frustratingly press at the back of my eyes as I feel her hand on my skin.

This could be the last time.

"Tell me what's going on with you. I know something is wrong." Her thumb swipes along my scruffy jawline. Even now she can bring me a sense of comfort. "You have been in here for hours. You've been avoiding me. That isn't like you. Tell me what's wrong."

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