by Regan Ure
Would I need to be the one to bring it up so that we could hash it out and then once we'd discussed, it would be better? Then we could move on and it would never happen again. I'd sorted this all out in my head and now it was time to take the bull by the horns and sort it out with Damien.
"Damien," I said as I sat up and faced him.
"Listen, about that kiss," he said. I could see he was anxious and nervous as he clasped his hands together. His eyes held mine. "I wanted to explain why I shouldn't have done that."
He said it like he'd been the only one taking part in the kiss, but that kiss, my first kiss, had involved both of us. I dropped my gaze, unable to look at him while he told me all the reasons why that kiss shouldn't have happened. How could something that felt so good be so wrong?
"You deserve better than me," he started, and then paused for a few moments. I glanced at him and I could see that he was struggling to find the words to explain what he needed to.
Patiently, I waited for him to resume speaking. He sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair.
"You have been through so much and you deserve nothing but love and happiness from here on out. I'm not good for you; you need someone who can love and care for you the way you should be loved. I can't give you what you deserve," he explained with a pained expression on his face, like this talk was hurting him just as much as it was hurting me.
It hurt to hear those words from him. My heart felt a little raw and bruised. I'd never been interested in anybody, and then Damien had come along and somehow I'd started to feel things I'd never felt before. He'd been the first boy to make me want to do normal things like kiss and date—all the things girls my age were doing.
Like in the fairy tales I'd read as a child, Damien had swooped in and saved me. He'd been my knight in shining armor. And in the fairy tales, the princess and the knight kissed and then lived happily ever after.
The reality was my knight was telling me our kiss had been a mistake and that he couldn't love me the way I should be loved. I bit down on my lip to keep it from trembling. It was bad enough getting hurt by the idea that he couldn't love me, and I didn't want to show him how much it hurt me.
"Why did you kiss me?" The question had been on my mind since he'd ended the kiss.
"I wanted you," he answered honestly and shrugged. "But… you deserve better."
He didn't think he was good enough for me.
"You know about my reputation at school. You've heard the rumors," he insisted. "They aren't rumors… it's all true."
His wide eyes searched my face for a reaction to what he'd just said. I knew about his reputation. I'd seen it for myself when he'd had made out with Angela against the lockers at school. Nothing he was telling me was something I didn't already know.
"I don't do relationships or commitment. I don't get attached."
I couldn't help but wonder why he was that way. There were plenty of guys that had a phobia about commitment, but Damien seemed to have an extreme case of that, because I heard that he went through women faster than I'd ever seen. Why was he so scared of getting attached? I knew there was a lot more to this than he was telling me, but I wasn't going to push it. He was right, though. Even though I liked him and that kiss had literally swept me off my feet, I deserved someone who was capable of loving me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to try and clear my thoughts. A slight ache in my head had begun to grow. I was getting a headache and I was beginning to feel tired again. But this time I knew it was the emotional strain that was making me tired.
When I opened my eyes, he was sitting in the chair beside me, watching me closely, waiting for my reaction.
I'd just managed to escape the nightmare that had been my life for the last seven years and I needed time to deal with everything that had happened. Somehow I needed to try and pick up the pieces of what was left of my life and try to carry on. With so much going on, the truth was I didn't have the emotional capacity to include someone else in my life and worry about them as well. Dating and relationships needed attention, and I needed to concentrate on myself. I needed time to try and deal with everything that had happened while trying to navigate through my new life.
For all I knew, Grant would succeed in another attempt to kill me before the police found him. I had a lot more important stuff to worry about than my heart and the butterflies in my stomach. It was probably best that we didn't get involved. If something more had developed between the two of us and things didn't work out, I wasn't sure if it would be possible to go back to being friends.
It hurt that he didn't think he was capable of giving me what I wanted, but now that I'd actually thought about things, it was probably for the best.
"I need you," I whispered softly. His eyes connected with mine and I knew my words were pulling on that inner part of him that I knew wouldn't let me down.
"I can't," he whispered back as he shook his head gently.
I shook my head at him. He hadn't understood me correctly.
"I need you to be in my life. I need you to be there for me when I'm about to fall apart or when things get too tough to handle. I need you to be there to pick me up and put me back together."
His eyes held mine.
"I need you to be my friend," I explained, trying to keep his gaze, but scared he might reject me outright. I couldn't cope without his friendship.
I couldn't lose him completely. After everything that had happened, I needed him. He was one of the few people I felt safe with and that was what I needed right now. Relief flooded through his face and he stepped forward and enveloped me in a hug. I breathed him in, musk and spice—it was comforting and soothing. The anxious feeling began to fade and I started to feel content.
"I can do that," he whispered hoarsely into my hair.
I sighed with relief. I'd been so scared that he would pull away from me totally. At least I still had him as my friend. He pulled back and tucked a stray piece of my hair back behind my ear.
"I will always be there for you. Anytime you need anything." He said it with such conviction that I knew he meant every word. His words warmed my heart.
"Thank you," I whispered hoarsely, overcome with emotion.
He sat back down.
"Mom told me that you're going to come and live with us," he said, smiling and looking a little more relaxed than he had before.
"Yeah," I answered, starting to fidget with the end of the blanket.
Talking about moving in with his family made me nervous and stressed. What if they didn't like me once I'd moved in? I was so used to trying to be invisible that I didn't know how I was going to try and integrate into a 'normal' family when I had no idea what 'normal' was.
"What's wrong?" he asked when I refused to make eye contact with him and continued to fidget with the blanket.
"I'm just nervous about it," I answered, looking up at him.
"Don’t be nervous. Everything will work out," he assured me. "Dad's started on the paperwork. He wanted me to talk to you about something."
My eyes flew to his. This didn't sound good, and from the tone of Damien's voice it didn't sound like he was looking forward to talking to me about this something.
"My dad has held off the cops and social workers for as long as he could, but they are insisting on seeing you," he revealed softly.
I understood that I would need to answer the cops' questions, and in doing so I was helping them. I had to remember that.
"When?" I asked, hoping I would have some time to prepare myself for it. I wasn't looking forward to taking a trip down this particular memory lane. It was bad enough every time I looked at the cast on my arm, or the bruises all over my body, and remembered what he did to me. Now I would have to sit and relay every moment of my ordeal. I wasn't even sure if it was something I could do.
I looked expectedly at Damien.
"Tomorrow."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Haven
That night I was restle
ss. I barely slept a wink. I knew exactly what was bugging me enough to keep me tossing and turning the whole night. It was the thought of meeting with the cops and having to answer questions about my ordeal. It wasn’t something I wanted to think about it.
I spent most of the night watching Damien sleep in the chair beside me. He slept with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs straightened and slightly crossed. It looked uncomfortable, but it didn't seem to bother him.
I felt guilty that I'd been sleeping in a comfortable bed and he'd spent every night since I'd been admitted to hospital sleeping in a chair. No one had watched over me like he had and I couldn't help the warm and tender feeling that spread inside me as I watched him sleep peacefully.
He had a bad reputation with girls and I knew he had issues, but I'd seen for myself that deep down, where it counted, he was a good and caring person. I didn't want to think about what I would have done if I hadn't been able to lean on him like I had. It was hard to believe that in such a short space of time he'd become the most important person in my life.
My thoughts turned to the other important guy in my life, Chris. After missing his visit yesterday, I was looking forward to seeing him later today.
I glanced down at the message he'd written on my cast. After everything that had happened, I was glad Damien hadn't seen the message. As soon as I had a chance I was going to write over it so that no one else would see it. I was lucky to have two special guys like them in my life, because I would be lost without them. I was hopeful that once I moved in with the Knights I would be able to form relationships with Amy and Steven. They were nice people. There weren't many people that would offer a home to an abused girl like me. It showed me that they were honest and caring, and I just hoped that it all worked out.
It was going to be a big change for me. I'd spent so many years in a soul-destroying environment, and I'd survived. I didn't know if I'd be able to cope with 'normal.' The doctor had told me I would recover from my physical wounds and the slight malnutrition I'd suffered from. I'd already noticed that I'd started to gain a little weight from my short stay in the hospital. The physical wounds would heal, but it was the emotional scars that I was more worried about.
At the moment I had more important things on my mind. The closer it got to meeting with the police, the more nervous I became.
"Morning." Damien's half-asleep greeting pulled me out of my thoughts and I gave him a weak smile as he rubbed his sleepy eyes.
"Hi," I greeted back.
He ran a hand through his hair and it fell back into place. Even first thing in the morning he was gorgeous, I thought again. I reprimanded myself—he was my friend and I had to stop thinking about him in that way.
"How did you sleep?" he asked as he pulled the chair closer to the bed and leaned a little closer.
"Not very well," I admitted with a shrug.
"Don't worry," he told me. "My dad and I will be with you when the police come to question you."
I gave him a slight nod. It wasn't having the meeting with the police that was worrying me, it was the thought of having to relive the ordeal that I scared me. He reached for my hand and squeezed it.
"It'll be all right," he reassured me. I gave him a weak smile.
I hoped he was right.
I was wound tight by the time the two policemen walked into my hospital room later that morning. The slightly overweight cop was dressed in a uniform and the skinnier one was dressed in a dark brown suit. I darted a nervous look to Damien who was standing beside me, still holding my hand. He gave me a reassuring smile and squeezed my hand.
My eyes flickered to Steven who was standing on the other side of my hospital bed. I was nervous.
"Good morning," greeted the policeman dressed in the suit with a friendly smile. He was tall and lanky with shaggy light brown hair that reached his ears. "I'm Detective Green and my colleague is Officer Smith."
Officer Smith looked like your typical short and overweight police officer. He looked a lot older than Detective Green because he was going bald. As I waited for them to start with the questions, I held onto Damien's hand a little tighter.
"We have some questions to ask you," Detective Green explained as he stood at the foot of my bed beside Officer Smith. His eyes went to Steven first and when Steven gave him a brief nod, he opened up a notebook.
"We know this has been difficult for you, but we need you to answer some questions so that we can get a clearer picture of what happened the day you were attacked. We're going to try and keep this short and sweet, okay?" he said to me.
My throat felt dry so I just nodded my head.
"We know from our discussion with your doctor that you were being physically abused at home," he informed me. "Was there any sexual abuse?"
I felt embarrassment heat my cheeks as I shook my head.
"We've managed to piece together what happened up until you arrived home," he informed me. "What happened when you got home?"
"Grant…my stepfather, was waiting for me when I got home," I began to explain. "He was mad at me."
"Why was he mad?" he asked, scribbling something into his notebook.
My gaze flickered to Damien and then I looked back to the detective.
"He'd seen me with Damien," I answered.
"Damien told us he gave you a lift home that day."
"Yes, it upset Grant," I revealed without thinking. It was only when I uttered the words did I realize the mistake I'd made. My eyes flickered to Damien's and I realized it was too late. Damien gave me a horrified look as he released my hands.
"Why did seeing you with Damien upset him?" the detective asked interrupting us.
I swallowed hard as my eyes went back to the cop.
"He'd seen Damien drop me off before and he told me if it ever happened again, he would kill him," I answered as I looked to the detective, hating the fact that now Damien knew what had set Grant off. The thickness in my throat grew as I tried to swallow again. I couldn't look at Damien but I could feel his eyes on me.
"So Grant was angry that he'd seen Damien drop you off?” the detective asked. I nodded my head.
"What happened next?" he asked.
I could still feel Damien's eyes on me but I couldn't look at him. No matter what I said next the damage had been done, Damien knew that Grant had beaten me because he'd seen the two of us together, despite my attempts to keep my distance from him. He would blame himself.
"He began to hit me," I answered, keeping the emotion I felt out of my voice.
The detective remained silent.
"Then he said something about me going to join my mom." It was all a bit fuzzy and I couldn't remember his exact words.
"Your mom died a few days earlier?" Detective Green asked calmly.
I nodded my head.
"Then what happened?" he prompted.
"He went to the kitchen and came back with a knife," I began to explain, dropping my eyes to my hands in my lap so that I wouldn't see their reaction.
"Does she really need to go into all the details of the attack?" Damien demanded. I looked up. He looked visibly upset by what he'd heard so far, but I knew it went deeper than that.
Steven shook his head at the detective.
"What happened after the attack?" Detective Green asked.
"He left me…" I answered, but as I said the words all the emotion I'd been able to suppress bubbled to the surface and I couldn't finish the sentence. I tried to calm myself down, but a sob broke loose and I felt Damien wrap me in his arms.
"Shh," he soothed softly.
"I think that's enough for today," Steven said to Detective Green and Officer Smith.
"I think we have all we need," Detective Green informed Steven as he closed his notebook. "I'll let you know if we have any more questions."
Tears slid down my face. Damien held me close, trying to ease my pain. Steven showed the cops out of the room, while Damien remained with me.
I cried until my tears finally dried u
p. Damien had held me the whole time whispering soothing words while he stroked my hair. Finally emotionally exhausted, I pulled away from him and brushed the tears from my face.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, upset with my lack of control over my emotions.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," he whispered as he tucked a stray piece of hair away. It was the tone of his voice that made me look at him. He looked so upset.
"Damien—" I said before he cut me off.
"I'm the one who needs to say sorry," he spoke softly. I could see the guilt was eating at him.
"But no amount of words can erase what happened to you because of me," he stated. I wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or to me.
"Damien—” I started, trying to reason with him, but he shook his head.
"It was my fault," he declared. The look in his eyes pulled at my heart.
I shook my head. It was heartbreaking watching him try and wrestle with the knowledge that Grant had nearly tried to kill me because he'd seen me with Damien.
"Oh my God, he nearly killed you," he gasped as he fisted his hair. I could see the he was beginning to spin out of control as it hit him full force.
"Damien," I whispered, trying to explain to him that it hadn't been his fault.
"How can you even stand to look at me?" he asked, as he bent down so our gazes were level, his hand on his chest. He was beyond upset now.
"I'm so sorry," he apologized to me with an edge of desperation that scared me. Then he pushed away from the bed. He didn't say another word; instead, he stalked out of the hospital room, slamming the door shut.
I sat, staring at the closed door of the hospital room. How had things gotten out of hand so quickly?
Not once since the attack had I ever thought for one second that it had been Damien's fault, because I didn't blame him at all. Grant was angry that day and seeing the two of us together was just a justification to him, not that he needed a justification hurt me. I wanted to kick myself for telling the cops about it because I hadn't thought about the effect it would have on Damien. I should have known better, but what was done was done and I wasn't sure how or even if I could fix it.
