Beyond Redemption

Chapter Twenty

"The only people who are mad at the truth are the people that are living a lie..." —Unknown

Phoenix's POV

I was pissed. I was angry. And above all, ashamed of myself.

Because she was right.

'You're an empty shell of a man.' The words of my mother powered through my head making it almost uncomfortable to sit still. It pained me to sit through the conversation with Scarlet. It physically hurt because it felt too similar. Too identical. Too real.

Mark Twain once said that 'history doesn't repeat itself, but it does often rhyme.' I beg to differ.

Earlier the lash of Scarlet's words stung just as much as the lampshade, the stray piece of glass, the worn belt, anything within reach that my mother used to impale my skin with over and over again. Scarlet's words took me back to the days where I, a seven year old kid, would be held up in his room for days with nothing but books just to avoid the relentless verbal and physical beatings of my mother. After a while, it became a routine. If I entered the kitchen while she was with her friends. Slap. If she found out that I had taken money from her stash. Slap. If I so much as disagreed with her. Slap.

Soon after, as I got older, I accepted her words and slaps, numbing myself to them. I didn't feel it anymore. I didn't feel anything. I was, in fact, nothing.

But for some strange reason, I felt every single syllable that poured out of Scarlet's lips. It scratched a place in my chest, maybe soul, that I forgot existed. They pierced my chest, gripped my heart, and squeezed. It fucking hurt.

She was my distraction. She was supposed to keep my dick warm and a smile on my face. She was nothing more. So why did her words hurt so much? Why did I care so much about what she thought of me?

I should be mad at her. Furious even. But when she finally made her way back into the kitchen, taking a seat on the stool furthest from me. Her face glistened in the light as droplets of water trickled onto her lips. I couldn't help but smile. It wasn't a smile to make her feel intimidated, it was more of a smile I caught myself doing. She could shoot me in the fucking stomach and cut off my legs but I would still smile at the intoxicating sight of her.

I didn't miss the way her tongue would dart out of her mouth occasionally to collect the beads of water strolling down her face either. And the faint blush was still evident on her cheek, trying to avoid my stare as her gaze scanned the smallest detail of the kitchen.

Fuck. She was so beautiful.

I pushed our conversation earlier to the deepest parts of my mind, not wanting wayward thoughts to get in the way of Mission Sex with Red.

Looking at her now, I started to regret my decision of not taking her up on that offer of studying in the bedroom. That way, there was a possibility of the reoccurrence of Saturday's events or even more. And my body wanted nothing more than a repeat of that night.

It was so annoying being only a few feet away from her and not being able to do what I so desperately wanted to do. My need to taste and feel every part of her body physically hurt me. However, I had to take it slow.

She was in denial. We both knew I was slowly getting to her but for some reason, she just kept pushing me away, it wasn't like I was asking her to fucking marry me and have children. It was just sex. Maybe multiple times but that was all it was going to be. I didn't see the big problem.

But until she gave me the clear go-ahead, I had to wait patiently.

"I'm ready when you are," I said, opening a textbook, flipping through the pages until I found the topic of the day.