Between the Two [COMPLETE]

8~Funny thing

Asher’s POV

Like my mother, I grew up as an observer of the world, of people, and everything in between. While she captured life’s most precious moments with oil paint and blank canvases, I found myself perceiving life as though it were a film. Distancing myself behind a sharpened lens, only jumping on the screen when absolutely necessary. It’s like an out of body experience. At first, it was just for fun, watching everyone act their parts, dreaming of thrilling scenarios life would offer them. But after her death, I found it’s become a crucial element to my own survival.

“You!” The lash of his leather cord sliced through the skin of my back, leaving heated lacerations in its place. His voice reverberated with fury, like a thunderous crash with each lash of electrifying lightning on my back. “You sinful son of mine! So disobedient!”

Each lash felt like pulsating waves beneath my skin, imagining myself stepping away. Just an onlooker, watching the boy keep his head down, biting his bottom lip to suppressing the agonizing holler tearing through him. It’ll be over soon, I’d tell him. The boy slightly recoiled, hissing beneath his breath with every infliction. His madness will be done shortly.

And his father’s maddening state slowly turned into a remorse, dropping to his knees with whispers of a prayer. However, it was never God he prayed to. During this state, he prayed to the wife, the mother of the son he’d scarred, who resided in the stars. He prayed that she’d send a light his way, that she’d grant him a second chance, and his son prayed for the same at his side.

Madness. It’s a funny thing.

At first, it entered so unnoticeably, like water dripping from a faucet.

The tantalizing speech of doubt that festers when a man hears his wife has suddenly died. Drowning in the words of a bible that promises salvation from the heartache. Resenting the son for asking his ill-fated mother to go out for one more treat.

Then it eventually turns into a sliver of a stream.

The man's yearning for control over his life bleeds into delusions of grandeur, positioning everything and everyone like pieces on a chessboard. Strikes against flesh and the torn fabrics of old paintings when things are out of order, when people aren’t godly enough.

And water begins to gush down the drain loudly, uncontrollably.

Punishments for simple actions are met with flesh tearing consequences. A son’s once humble home becomes a tortuous prison, mentally and physically, leaving him numb to his father’s relentless shouts and hits. God becomes his father’s savior and the son’s curse.

Gifted with stunning beauty and charm, they say the devil was God’s favorite before being cast from heaven. When I look upon my father smiling virtuously, the swarms of people who bow at his feet, I believe that to be true. Luckily, that handsomely devilish face did one good thing: Melissa.

Or so I thought.

She entered our lives, graceful and polished, ready to assume her role as a caring wife and mother. Not only father but I had been ensnared by her enticing spell of demure and righteousness. For a while, she made our tormented house into an appealing home I no longer dreaded to return to. However, being the observant specimen, I noted a few things disarrayed about her. She not only yearned for attention like my father, she thrived on the attention of men. It made her feel important, needed, and she’d do anything to nourish it. She had an act for manipulation and secrets, her righteous ways falling layer after layer, especially after marriage. And although she treated me like a son, in the shadows, she reminded me she was still a woman and I, a man.

Betraying my father was the easiest thing I’d ever done. Sneaking lustful glances at one another when he wasn’t looking and kissing sensually before bed. She’d creep into my room and I’d ravish her mature bosoms, wrapping her legs around me as I thrust myself within her. Her moans were restorative to my wounds, the scars beveled along my back and arms. This only made her crave me more, tracing the thick lines and spiraling tattoo with a delicate touch that always sent fiery shivers down my spine.

At first, it was just the morbid curiosity and teenage hormones. Then it became the well-crafted f**k you for every punch, kick, and crack of a whip. Nonetheless, it was nothing more. She still stunk of dad’s deceitfulness and she was losing her senses as her own past deceptions were catching up to her.

“I would like you both to meet my sweet daughter, Lilah.”

Lilah. Lilah. Lilah. She didn’t know it but she changed everything. Like the prayer both my dad and I begged for, a shining light, a second chance, stood before us with waves of raven hair and captivating blue eyes. Melissa wasn’t the lady we needed for salvation. No, it had always been Lilah. And peering at my dad, noticing the same glint of divine recognition, feeling the heavy thump of envy, I knew I needed to capture her before he did.

You see, Lilah to us was like a divine canvas, pure and regal, ready for us to paint with new objectives, desires, ambiances. To my father, she was a canvas of repentance and rebirth. To Melissa, a canvas of bitter resentment and torment. And to me, she was already painted with the same scars I yearned to replace with affection and empathy.

But first, she needed to understand the way this place worked. Funny thing about madness is that it’s also contagious, infests itself throughout a household like webs of mold. And I couldn’t protect her from the madness. All I could do was help her find a haven within it, with me. Or was it the other way around?

“What did my dad do to you?” I asked again, eyes targeting the purpling bruises along her neck. It’s only been a couple of days and already he had his hands on her.

Hastily with a blush, she yanked the scarf from my hands, covering herself with trembles. “Nothing. Ezra didn’t do this to me.”

Scrutinizing her, trying to decode a possible lie. Her blue eyes darkened with a memory before blinking it away. “Then who?” Silence raptured us both, her slender body leaning against the door. “Please tell me.”

Her eyes flashed up at me, questioningly. “Would you believe me if I said it was my mom?” she asked, almost murmuring the words.

Melissa. More layers of hers were devolving. I’d have to be an i***t, already raised by a ruthless father, not to see the signs. With Lilah here, I knew Melissa would reveal herself sooner or later. Trembles coursed down my arm, balling my hands into fists. She could never replace my mother, we both knew that in the beginning. Nonetheless, she’d been my savior for a while. Dad had become more lenient with her around. Melissa nurtured me and stood up to him the way I never could. She protected me.

But that would end today.

I nodded, “I do believe you.”

Her eyes scoped me for any deceit liked I’d done moments ago to her. A parent who’d purposely damage their child isn’t something the common masses want to believe. She thinks I’m normal. I could have scoffed at the thought. With an exasperated sigh, I turned my back to her. Slowly, I lifted the back of my uniform dress shirt, displaying the many beveled scars from over the years. A whisper of a gasp escaped her lips.

“My father isn’t the Godly saint he pretends to be. It’s a facade. Just like what Melissa displays to everyone but hurts you in the background.”

Her steps towards me were tentative. The beating of my chest followed her until she was only a step away, gently asking, “May I?”

My breath hitched, nodding. No one except Melissa has every touched my scars before but I anticipated her caress. No, I yearned for it, waiting on bated breath. Since the moment I saw her, I’d convinced myself she had been delivered here to save me and I, her. One glanced from those mystical blue eyes, I’d been struck by her, heart and soul. I couldn’t control myself the first few days, a surreal eagerness for her propelling me. Her lips were everything I dreamt of, a passionate sanctuary. She felt it too, pulling me closer, then I pushed it too far. It was worth the try though. We were different than the gleeful, oblivious public that walked around believing they’re above reproach. She and I had been blamed for our sins and theirs since before we knew we were human.

We knew suffering. We knew madness. We were meant to be.

Her touch sent a lustful warmth through my body, feeling myself relax beneath the soft palm of her hand. “Erza did this?” she asked.

I nodded. “Most times, sometimes he’d make me do it myself and watch.”

She hissed, hot air caressing my backside. “I’m sorry. I’ll be cautious of him as well.”

Swiftly, I turn to her, pulling my shirt down. Those blue eyes filled with empathy made me reach out to her, my fingers brushing her cheek. “Lilah.” I marinated on the name for a second. “I don’t want you to live in fear of him or your mom.”

Depressingly, she scoffed, already knowing the impossibility. “I don’t fear my mom. I hate her.” Her hands were fist at her side, nose flaring with a dreaded memory. “I hate her for everything she’s ever done and I want her to suffer for them.”

The corner of my lips jolted upwards. “My dad deserves punishment as well.” I step closer, my body pressing into hers. She didn’t back away. Instead, she allowed me to feel her heaving body which made me almost groan. Delicately, my hands drifted towards her waist, lowering to whisper in her ear. “Together, I think we can not only tarnish them, but get rid of them once and for all.” Pulling back, I noticed the panic of my words floating in her eyes. “Not kill them. Just reveal who they truly are.” I patted her hair for reassurance, feeling the smooth strands lick around my fingers. She felt exhilarating to be near.

“How? Even my mom had you fooled and Ezra…” She let her words drift, shaking her head. “She knows me too well. We’ve been playing her games since I could remember. If I could get rid of her, I would have a long time ago.”

She had a point. My dad was the same with me. He knew every move I made under his household. He’d know something was accumulating against him if I acted differently, even with Lilah here. However, he knew nothing of her, and Melissa was already on my side. I crossed my arms at the sudden thought, conflicted. I’d be putting her in danger. Returning my attention to her, I said, “I can get rid of Melissa, I’m already on her good side,”--and her backside and front--“but we’ll tarnish them together.”

“And I’ll get rid of Ezra?” Although the flick of her tongue indicated a question, her beautiful face spoke certainty.

“With him, it might not be so easy--”

“I’ll do it either way. I just..I want to give them what they deserve.” In her eyes, determined and hopeful. I knew whatever Melissa had done to her would be repaid in full.

The smile on my lips widen and I couldn't help myself, leaning against her lips. They were soft and welcoming, our body pressed to one another, her heart beating against mine. Her tongue swept against my lips, a rumbling groan escaping from me. She made me crazy for her since the very first moment. It could be the madness already resided in me that wanted to believe she’d been sent to rescue me, mind, body, and spirit. However, madness is a funny thing. She’s a funny thing. And together, we could be drenching a fire with rain or gasoline, flames extinguishing or expanding. But whatever this madness inside us was, we couldn’t turn back now.

Breathlessly, the same mischievous smile taking over, I promised her, “They’ll get what they deserve. I swear it.”