A Taste of Darkness

Chapter 25: Redeem

Julio

I start to hear a noise echoing from behind me, though it remains difficult to distinguish what exactly it is because of this bastard's ragged breathing right in my face. However, if I focus on it, it sounds almost like scurrying footsteps.

As soon as I hear the sound, I turn around to see what the cause of its genesis is. It is then that my eyes are met with the very last sight I was hoping to see.

Scarlett.

Scarlett has witnessed what I have done to this guy. She is now painfully aware of the darkest side of myself.

And for some reason, upon coming to that realization, I know I have never felt a greater level of devastation than this.

It's the way that she is looking at me, that haunted, anguished look in her eyes that really gets to me. I already knew that she never had the greatest opinion of me because of who I am and what I do- which I understand- but now that opinion of hers has most likely gotten infinitely worse upon gaining the knowledge that the cause of this guy's face beaten with shades of blue, purple and red is me.

"Scarlett-" I start, however whatever I planned to say is interrupted by her rapid escape out the door once she snaps herself out of her thoughts and realises that I've spotted her, and that we've being staring at each other this entire time.

Immediately at the sight of her running out of the room, before the thought to do it even comes to my mind, I instantly react by speeding after her as fast as my legs can carry me. Fortunately, as a result of me being significantly taller than her, I manage to catch up to her quickly, and as soon as I do, my arm reaches out to grab hers, pulling her back to me so rapidly that the action is almost like a reflex.

"Scarlett..." I breathe, but my sentence trails off as I have no idea what to say. I can't justify what I've done or make up any excuses, because it wouldn't be right. I desperately want to say something, anything to make her feel better, to reassure her, to make myself look like a better man in her eyes, but I don't think I can. After all, I'm not a better man.

Though I can still hear this clear voice in the back of my head shouting that she makes me want to be a better man.

I ignore it, shut it out.

"Let go of my arm," she commands, her voice sounding scarily neutral, emotionless. Almost as if she has shut something off in her brain.

As she prefers, I let go of her arm as I'm sure that not doing so will make this whole situation immensely worse, and that is the last thing I want.

Actually, fuck that. It's not even on the list of things I want.

But what is, is the need to make this better. Desperately.

"You weren't supposed to see that," I say, pointing out the obvious. They seem to be the only words I can get out or form at this moment.

God, I'm such a fucking idiot.

"Clearly," she judges, rolling her eyes. She's always been reluctant to speak to me and has never been one to hide her annoyance, but I can tell that this time it's different, more. . . real.

I cannot allow her to enter this room again, can't allow this to happen again. She is clearly already aware that what I am is not what you would describe as 'good', and a desire for her to be even more aware of that fact remains indubitably and eternally non-existent.

"Don't ever come down here again," I command, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible, when in reality I am anything but.

She scoffs while rolling her eyes at me for what must be the thousandth time. "It's not like I'd want to anyway if you're going to be here."