Page 7 of Redd

Not yet. He knows, it's like he can read my fucking mind.

The pan sizzled, butter splattering up and tickling the tips of my fingers. Holding the spatula, my hand shook nervously as I attempted to slip it underneath one of the eggs. I did my best to stay still, to not let his loaded gun get to me.

I failed.

The egg popped open, spilling yellow blood into the pan. “Shit.” Whispering under my breath, I tried to quietly grab another egg to replace the one I screwed up.

“Uh, uh, let me see.” Pushing back from the table, he walked up and looked down over my shoulder. “Shit, Bijou, you can't get anything right, can you?” Shaking his head, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist, tenderly stroking my skin. “This is number two, twice you screwed up the same thing. You know I don't like seeing the same mistake twice.” Tisking under his breath, he dropped his head into chest. “Oh, Bijou, I don't want to do this, I don't want to punish you.” Sighing heavily, Diablo's fingers thickened around my wrist, holding me tight. “This is going to hurt, my sweet jewel, I'm not going to lie. But, it's for your own good, you can't keep making these mistakes.”

The way he said it sent my body up in flames, I was tempted to throw the hot pan in his face, allowing the butter to burn him and scar him. But that wouldn't kill him, it would only stun him for a brief moment, and then what?

Where would I run?

Where would I hide?

From the corner of my eye I could see the door that led outside, and I knew I'd never reach it.

Diablo was in my path, his broad shoulders and angry muscle blocking my exit. A gun was in his free hand, pointed directly at me. As if I was the one who was vile and evil, as if I had threatened his life. It was a fucked up feeling to be treated like you were the cause of all the darkness he had to bare.

Don't. You won't make it out alive.

Biting my lower lip, I knew I wasn't supposed to talk or question him. I wasn't allowed to speak unless he told me to, I wasn't allowed to look him in the eyes unless he demanded me to look; there was no freedom to have a voice of my own or the right to make decisions for myself.

Not here, not in his world. I was just his slave.

This time, I ignored his rules.

“Please, Diablo, let me try it again. I'll get it right this time, I promise.” I let my eyes flutter up to his, hoping he would show me the tiniest bit of mercy today. “Please, give me a chance to fix it. It's my birthday.”

“What was that?” Leaning his head in, he tipped his ear up. “Did you say something?” Scrunching his brows, his lips turned into a frown. Staying silent, I closed my eyes for a brief second, then opened them slowly to stare at the back of the wall. “I didn't think you did. Like I said before, Bijou, this is going to hurt.” From the corner of my eyes, I watched a devious smile slip up his face.

Pulling my hand off the handle of the pan, he raised it up to his lips and kissed the back of my palm. “Happy birthday.”

In one quick push, Diablo pressed my open palm into the scalding liquid, holding it in place as the heat burned my skin and the hot butter scorched the surface. There was no time for me to react, that was the last thing I expected him to do.

My brain had been trained to think his punishments were dealt with a slap or a punch, a belt or a rope. But this. . . This was a whole new level.

I didn't scream, I didn't call out in agony and try to yank my hand free. The pain was too much, causing my brain to shut down and my body to turn off.

Blackness stole me away, it saved me from a moment of pure torture.

I passed out, forgetting where I was, falling into my safe space and the world I used to know. I was walking down the street, the noon sun was beating down on the back of my neck, the fresh air was filling my chest as I inhaled.

My mind took me from that place, it saved me and gave me something in return.

I was home, even if it was only a dream. . . I was me again.

It was moments like that, short glimpses of what I had waiting for me on the outside that kept me believing I could find my way home.

Nothing—not Diablo, not the hurt or the pain—nothing would make me forget the life I would get back one day.

Nothing.

Because I was a fighter.

And I planned on fighting till the end.

I am unbreakable.

---