A Love Like Venom: A Dark MC Romance by Analee Giancoala

Author:Analee Giancoala [Giancoala, Analee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Analee Giancoala
Published: 2024-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

Snake

When I was a boy, I took my father's beatings like a man.

There was only one time that I cried.

It was the first time that his fist crushed against my temple.

The pain was blinding. I remember seeing black spots dance before my eyes. Left wondering if I would regain my full sight back. At the time I didn't know that I was experiencing a concussion and that if he had hit any harder I could have suffered major damage.

My father didn't care about that though. He only cared that I cried from his brutal attack. In turn he punched me again. Except it was a strike to the chest that knocked the wind out of me.

I cried that night but I did not beg.

Even I knew at the tender age of eight the term mercy was unfamiliar to my father.

There were no more tears after that night but I would still wince in pain. I would shiver from the sight of his hardened cold eyes. And I would whimper when he broke skin.

Each time that I reacted his beatings would be worse than the last.

In order to survive my father I had to teach my body to not react to pain.

And it did not take me long to get to that point. To learn to suffer through silence. To accept the pain and become one with it. I think it angered my father how I was such a quick study.

It angered him further when I became numb to his fists. So he took to other means. Anything he could get his hands on really. But his favorite was the belt he had.

Except no matter what he used, whatever he deemed at the time to be fit I grew numb to them, too.

Pain was never a bother.

But seeing her cry. Watching her as she fell apart in my arms. That was more pain than I could bear.

Her cry did more than pierce my eardrums. Each wail tore pieces of my heart until all that was left was a battered muscular organ hanging on by mere strings.

Seeing her tearstained face, the haunted look in her honey brown eyes that always held hope had my whole body ache with an unmeasurable pain.

I couldn't stand it. It was more than I could bear. More than what any person is capable of withstanding.

Each of her tears was a lash to the skin as each cry was a shot to my chest.

I felt it.

And no longer being able to take the pain I cried for her myself.

A tear for all that she's had to endure.

Another for the way her mother has abused her.

More for what Chris Blackwell did to her. Taking away a piece of herself she will never be able to get back.

By the time I thought of the mistreatment and callousness of her own sister the last tear was shed. And with the last tear trailing it's way down my face it began to burn as I soon felt nothing more than rage.

I wanted to conjure up Chris Blackwell from the dead and kill him all over again.

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