Red: Black, #2

Red

T.L Smith

Copyright 2016 TL Smith

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

WARNING

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is intended for adults ONLY. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Cover – Love N. Books.

Formatting - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angels-Indie-formatting

Editing by Swish Design & Editing

Cover image – Franggy – Love N Books.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Disclaimer

Red (Black, #2)

Sasha's Dilemma (Dilemma #1)

Note to the Reader | This book is based in Australia, and there may be Australian words or places mentioned. If you have any issues understanding, please feel free to message me. | Love

Five Years Ago

A wound to the heart, a hole so deep. | Can it be fixed? | Or simply replaced? | People lie. Those closest to me, tell the most lies. | Do they not know who I am? What I’m capable of?

This book is dedicated to all the broken, damaged people. We see you, we fear you, because you, you feel with a might so great, it scares us. But don’t let that stop you. You are special, you are great. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.

Red | An organization to help women with addictions. No matter the range of dependency, we offer rehabilitation facilities, group therapy, as well as one-on-one with a psychologist.

Don’t open near the kids.

A gun for a piece.

Broken

Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed Black and Rose as much as I loved telling it. Black and Rose’s story will never be over, but next, you will get to meet Jake, and learn more about him. | ‘White’ is available now. | If you loved it, let me know by leaving a review on the site you purchased from. They mean so much to us, and every review counts, good or bad. | Fan Group | Newsletter

Sasha's Dilemma (Dilemma #1)

Adam’s Heaven (Dilemma #1.5)

Sasha’s Demons (Dilemma #2)

Krinos (Take Over #1)

Kalon (Take Over #2)

Kratos (Take Over #3)

Pure Punishment (Standalone)

Antagonize Me (Standalone)

Degrade (Flawed #1)

Twisted Perception (Flawed #2)

Black (Black #1)

Red (Black #2)

White (Black #3)

Distrust (Smirnov #1)

Disbelief (Smirnov #2)

Defiance (Smirnov #3)

Dismissed (Smirnov #4)

Lovesick (Standalone)

Lotus (Standalone)

Re

Note to the Reader

This book is based in Australia, and there may be Australian words or places mentioned. If you have any issues understanding, please feel free to message me.

Love

T.L Smith

Five Years Ago

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

A wound to the heart, a hole so deep.

Can it be fixed?

Or simply replaced?

People lie. Those closest to me, tell the most lies.

Do they not know who I am? What I’m capable of?

Sometimes I wonder if they do. Because when I unravel their lies, they will be delivered to the hell I once visited. And it won’t be pleasant.

This book is dedicated to all the broken, damaged people. We see you, we fear you, because you, you feel with a might so great, it scares us. But don’t let that stop you. You are special, you are great. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.

We are vessels made to love. Love, that word was so odd to a person such as me, someone who had never experienced the true feelings of such a word. People talk highly of it, people kill for it, but is it worth it? The world has this ideal of love, in that it can change everything, and everything can be fixed if you have it.

I was not a believer, I didn’t even understand the word. To me, it was just that, a word. Nothing more.

No one loved me, no one would risk loving me. I was a damaged and broken piece of a human—a destructor. My job was to take people away from those they loved, I was even hired by people who claimed to love the people I was sent to destroy. Even though they wanted them dead.

I didn’t understand—still don’t.

But she made me believe.

Made me believe that there was more than the darkness.

She took me to a place with color, a place that was right now. The world was cold, my eyes were constantly closing, and I tried with everything I had to keep them open—for her. Everything was for her. But the darkness took me under, sucking me into its never-ending spin. She shone brightly when my eyes were closed, like she was right in front of me. Her facial expressions were written all over her face, for each time we had been together. When we were sixteen, to the first time she realized it was me. When she would come undone under me, to her soft pink lips. But it was the eyes—her eyes that I always watched. The blue in them, the way I could see so much reflected in them. Like they were made to see only me, to love only me.

Then she disappeared, and everything went Black...

Damaged...

People use this word for a number of reasons. Some don’t fully understand the meaning of such a word. What it really means to one, to some it causes a great deal of pain. But to others, it’s just a word.

Damaged...

There it is again, that word. It haunts me. It inflicts a silent pain all by itself. And no one would be any the wiser.

Damaged...

It’s a word people would use to describe me.

Damaged...

It’s a word that explains me, because that’s exactly what I am—damaged goods.

Some people will think of this word and look at an object that’s broken and assume it’s damaged. To some, that’s as far as the word goes. To others, it has a whole new meaning—people with anxiety, people with depression. And then there’s me. Someone who has cracks so deep in their bones that they can no longer see anything fixable. Broken... damaged. That’s all there is to describe me. Nothing more to it.

I’ve lived with this feeling for the last five years. I’ve felt somehow damaged, somehow unfixable. Like something is missing, but what? That’s the question.

The people around me try to help me rid that feeling, try to tell me how important I am. How much I’m missed. How they’re worried about me. None of it feels real, it felt wrong. Was what they said the truth? I know these people well, they lie, cheat, steal, and kill. How accurate is their word?

Personally, I don’t think it’s worth much.

Though, they seem to be all I have in this world. Even though, I believe I need no one. I have this feeling that I’m content when I’m alone. It’s quiet, and there are not so many demons. When I’m with people, I think fake, unrealistic, not my type of people.

They try to make me believe. Otherwise, I’ve seen it in their eyes. They want me to believe whatever it is they’re saying. It’s hard, though, when deep down it’s embedded in my bones that I feel they are lying.

Five years I’ve been with them, five years and I have always questioned. They always answer, with a quick look at another person. I pick up on it all. The side glances when I speak, which isn’t often. The way I watch their hushed whispers. Their body language, like they’re always on guard around me. Someone who’s meant to be their brother.

The doubt is sinking in more and more and I intend to find out why. Why the doubt sticks to my bones like glue. Why I feel something, or possibly someone is missing.

Broken...

That’s what I am, pieces of me never to be fixed. Pieces shattered into a million fragments.

Broken...

How do you fix such a thing when you’ve tried so hard to do so?

I say I’m okay, say I can get through this.

I’ve simply been coping not living.

Day by day, that’s how I take it. Even after five years, so many pieces are broken.

One day they may fix themselves, then again, maybe not.

Maybe that’s the way I’m meant to stay? Maybe that’s my punishment?

Maybe I’m meant to stay broken, for a lifetime of pain.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound of my heart beating hard in my chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Even louder, the sound of his heart beating from his chest. His neck is under my boot, his eyes as wide as saucers. He’s terrified and he should be.

He tries to speak, but words can’t leave his mouth, gasoline is currently being poured down his throat. He gags, he spits. Nothing works as it goes down into his despicable body. His body starts thrashing, his hands try to grab for my legs. They are nailed to the wooden floor, three nails in each hand. Blood coats the floor. He’s almost torn free, his flesh being broken and torn in the process to stop the gasoline.

I stop and step back, he cries out in relief. Spitting out whatever is left in his mouth.

I knew they would send you, he speaks, his eyes look to mine then back up to the ceiling. I don’t answer him. Talking is not something I like to do in general, let alone when I plan to torture someone to death. I was a fool to believe you wouldn’t find me. His eyes close. Your reputation proceeds you, Trace.

His eyes reopen, he looks to me and starts speaking again. I don’t like him, I don’t like what he does or what he stands for, and he deserves everything that’s about to happen to him. They do say, once a fool, always a fool, right? He starts coughing, the gasoline reaching his lungs.

The hammer comes down onto his knee cap. The sound of bones snapping is the sound of hurt and pain. It’s everything he deserves and more. His screams stop, and when I look up to him, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes squeezed shut, blood leaks everywhere from his body. He has passed out, the pain too excruciating for him.

I hear my phone ringing, it’s on the table behind me. I want to ignore it. I choose to ignore most of the calls that have come in since I have been here, the phone constantly vibrating and ringing. It starts again, consistently.

Is it done? Are his first words.

It will be. Then I hang up. He won’t like it, but he will deal with it.

No more, please, he begs. Turning to look at this pathetic man strapped to the floor, his eyes are full of tears. His eyes don’t hold me for long, he knows why he is here. I grab the photo I have in my pocket, he watches me cautiously unsure of what is to come. I bend down and hold the photo close to his face, so he has no other option but to look at it.

I didn’t touch her. I don’t know who that is. He just gave himself away, the girl in the photo could have meant anything, except his first words were, I didn’t touch her, that’s where he went wrong. He notices it straight away. His head starts shaking, the hammer in my hand feels light, like a knife. I lift it and smash his right hand. He cries, just as I suspect, the young girl would have cried. He deserves worse.

The father of the young lady has connections and money. This man dated her, then used her. He didn’t realize who her father was, and how well he’s known. So now he pays the price, in blood.

I stand and walk to his other side. Just as I lean down, he leans up, his face so close to mine, his breath stinks from the gasoline I poured down his throat, mixed with the copper smell of his blood.

Talk you prick, fucking speak! Crunch, the hammer slams down on his other fist.

I am going to crush every bone in your body, I’m going to make you feel pain that you once delivered, plus ten times worse.

You already have, he cries.

I haven’t! I reply as the hammer comes down, smashing his elbow.

I crush as many bones in his body as I can while he screams, cries, and passes out after every blow. When it’s time and there’s nothing else left—no fight in him—a bullet is lodged in his brain.

It’s done, I say watching the floor which is completely covered in red. Blood splatter covers my face, my hands, and my body. Thankfully I wear black so it isn’t easily seen as I walk out into the sunlight and head straight to my car. Leaving behind that man in his dance studio, soaking in his own blood.

A demon lives inside of me. Some call him Satan, I call him Damaged.

You see, there’s something dark inside me, so dark that I don’t fully understand it. Even after five years, I’m still trying to work out what that is.

Her hands slide down my body and I try hard not to throw her from me. Her hands touching me. It’s a game of will if