Black
Authors: T.L. Smith
Black
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 -
LM
Creations
Formatting - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angels-Indie-formatting
Editing by
Swish Design & Editing
Proofread – KMS Editing
Cover image – Franggy – Love N Books.
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)
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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
I am loyal, but I will betray you.
I am strong, but I have scars.
I am an angel, but the devil.
I met her when I was sixteen and she was a breath of fresh air. She swooped in, making me smile. But then she left, taking my next breath with her.
Her smile could light up a room, making my black heart pitter patter.
I found her again ten years later, with a syringe in her arm.
Blood coming from between her legs.
She was broken and I was glad she was broken. She wouldn't think less of me and my damaged ways.
She was sitting there, just doing nothing other than picking petals off of a flower. I thought that it was weird. What sixteen-year-old girl sits in the dirt and picks petals from flowers? It was such a strange thing to watch, her long blonde hair that ran all the way down her back was clean and brushed, her clothes were unblemished apart from the front of her legs where she was kneeling in the dirt. I could see her mouth moving. She was counting, or was she saying something I didn’t quite understand, and I didn’t have the time to sit there and watch her. I had places to be, and deals that needed to be made. But when I walked past the park late that night and saw her hunched back just sitting there, it certainly had me wondering why. It was late, black was the sky, not a cloud about. I was positive it was going to rain any minute. I smelt it in the air, but she didn’t seem to notice. What a peculiar girl.
I looked at her one last time, the lamp in the park illuminating her like an angel. Kicking a rock at my foot, I turned the other way and started walking.
“Stop!” a voice called out to me. My feet halted. That voice was like velvet—sweet and soothing. I wanted to put one foot in front of the other, to force myself to take another step, to ignore what she wanted or what she wanted to say. But I knew I couldn’t. I was drawn to her and it was weird. I’d seen her before because she was in my class at school. One I barely went to, but attending a little was mandatory before the authorities got involved. She sat with the cool kids, the kids with money and nice cars, people older than herself. She was my age, I knew she was. She was in most of my classes, always sitting there with her glasses on, lost in thought.
I turned. I just had to. She was standing now, looking my way. She wouldn’t be able to see me properly—I wasn’t under a street lamp. Her hair was so long and blonde it almost touched her hips. Her pants dirty, she looked different, odd, hurt. So many emotions running over her face.
She took two steps forward, bringing herself closer to me. Closer to danger. She stopped and squinted, as if she was trying to see me better, but couldn’t.
“Have you ever loved someone so much the thought of them hurts?” she asked in a small voice. I tilted my head to the side. Why would she ask me that? She didn’t know me. She stood there, waiting for me to answer. I couldn’t give her anything in return—I didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t.
She moved closer, each step slower as she came forth. She came face to face with me, looking up, her face dark from the night sky, but somehow so vibrant in front of me. She reached for my hand, laced her fingers through mine, and tugged me as she ran. I didn’t stop her—couldn’t, wouldn’t.
She ran all the way to a cliff, a place I’ve been to before. But looking down over the side I saw nothing but blackness. The water was unusually green—no one has ever been able to touch the bottom of this swimming hole. People tell stories that cars are lost, even bodies. No one knows for sure, as no one can reach the bottom of its murky depths. It was basically a green hole surrounded by walls. People came during the summer to try jumping from the highest points. But it was hard to climb out once you dove in. You had to find a rock that was close enough for you to pull yourself up from the water and then climb up the sheer rock face.
I looked back to her, wondering what we were doing. I hadn’t said a word, she hadn’t since we arrived. She took her now dirty pants off, dropped them to the ground, and then her top. Her hair covered her, but I could just make out the outline of her body.
“Will you swim with me?” she asked, looking up at me. I thought about it—I was there, so why not? Then I hesitated. I had places to be, beatings I would receive if I didn’t show up. Then thought,
fuck it. This better be worth the beating
. I dropped my jeans, leaving me in boxer shorts, threw my shirt on her pile and looked back at her. She was watching me. I liked it. She grabbed my hand again, laced our fingers together, and started to count.
“One…” she puffed out, “I can’t wait to escape this place.”
“Two…” she released another breath, “I want to be loved.” I was watching her with intense interest. She was so different. She looked to me, a lone tear sliding down her face.
So lonely.
She nodded for me to do the last, but I didn’t know what to say. I thought about it and kept coming up blank.