A Brand New Ending

Chapter 58

Phoenix



I jolt upright, a loud bang waking me from my sleep. My heart begins to race as I lean over, clicking on the bed side lamp. And then I see him. His eyes red and puffy.

"Braeden?" I say, pulling the covers off me and make my way towards him in a few fast strides.

When I reach him he doesn't even look at me. "What happened?"

His head finally lifts and his eyes boar into mine. He reaches out and takes my hand gently, his finger running over the cut on my hand.

"Where did you get this cut, Phoenix?" he asks, his voice dark. I begin to catch on. I look down at my hand, hiding my eyes from him.

"He told you…" I mutter.

I hear him inhale sharply. The sound is pure agony to my ears.

"So it's true…I didn't want to believe…"

I remain silent, water pooling in my eyes.

"How could you keep that from me?"

And in that moment my heart breaks into a million pieces. I finally have the courage to look up at him but I have to look away quickly, his stare poisonous.

"I…I…" I try to speak but my word faultier.

"Spit it out," he snaps.

"I was scared, Braeden," I retort. "I thought about telling you a million different times over the past 24 hours. I was terrified."

His eyes soften a little. "Scared? Of me? That's ridiculous."

I begin to get angry, wanting to tell him that he's acting like a child.

"No it's not. I didn't want to be the one that caused you pain. And we all know that your mother is still a sensitive subject."

"You not telling me is what's causing the most pain. I thought we had an understanding. An agreement to never lie to each other. I have always been honest with you, even before you were mine. "

The guilt begins to creep up inside me, tears falling freely down my face.

"I'm so sorry, I am," I cry out.

I put my arms out to grab onto him, wanting badly to go back a day, but his hands shoot out and stop them.

"I just can't right now," he says.

"Can't what?"

"Be in here with you, I need to be alone."

And with that sentence he turns around and escapes out the door, it shutting in my face. I stand there for a while, my mind going in a million different directions. Part of me wants to run after him but my feet remain planted, like an outside force is keeping me still. After an unknown amount of time I go back to the bed, confused on what I should be doing. Laying back I lean over, switching off the light. However this time sleep doesn't come.

~

Each minute he doesn't return more tears fall from my eyes, the pillow becoming damp from them. I hear the handle of the door turn but it's so dark that I can't see anything.

"Braeden?" I call out.

I hear the click of a lock and I now know it's not him. Reaching over hastily, I click on the light, a figure standing against the now closed door. I try not to panic but I can't help noticing his state. His face is sweaty, his clothes disheveled. The Devil.

"Beautiful girls shouldn't be alone in their beds," his voice calls out, it causing chills down my back.

"Braeden's going to be back any moment," I say, hoping to scare him away. He just smiles.

"I highly doubt that, he seemed quite angry."

My stomach drops. Things fall silent for a second and he starts to take a step towards me. I need to get around him. I remain planted, hoping I can out maneuver him in his state. His movements are slow and methodical. I can hear my heart beat pound in my ears, everything else being drained out. My body begins to shake. And then I see it, my moment to slip past him. Pushing my feet forward I bound towards him, the door getting closer and closer. The cold metal of the door handle reaches my fingertips but he catches me, my grip lost and my body flying backwards.

Within seconds my body is pressed against his, my back to his front. His hands are all over me. I go to scream but his hand covers my mouth, it being muffled.

"Shut up," he demands into my ear. "I've been waiting to do this for a long time."

Tears fall from my eyes, my vision becoming blurry. His other arm comes around my waist and he hoists me into the air and my body is tossed onto the bed and I cry out.

"Please, no," I beg, knowing that fighting him will get me nowhere but more bruises. Something that I learned from Carl.

His hands come up and I flinch as they run through my hair. I am confused by this gesture, it more gentle than the others. His fingers then leave my head and trailer down my body, finding the buttons on my shirt and with one yank it is torn open, the buttons bouncing off in a million directions, my naked breasts exposed.