Chapter 6
Damien
‘Remember Everything’ – Five Finger Death Punch
The breeze is even colder back here. It whips across my face like an attack, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe again.
The house is shielding me from the sun, but now everything is darker.
Even the forest behind the house looks more ominous, like something evil is lingering there.
I used to come out here for an escape. It used to be soothing, and now it’s everything I fear.
They’re hiding in the trees. They have to be.
Worst of all, they’ve tricked even my best men.
They believe everything is safe again, but I know better.
They taught me better.
My chest tightens up and I grip the railing to steady myself.
The look in her eyes after I lost control was like a shot to the chest. It’s as if she’s afraid of me again, and the thought of that alone is worse than anything I was forced to endure.
The assignments play in my head over and over again, reminding me of what I have to lose.
The men, the women, and God, that room… Cinque’s blood-covered face flashes across the sky, and it makes me jolt.
She doesn’t understand the tasks they forced me to complete.
She’s slowly starting to realize what a monster I’ve become. I’m not someone she recognizes anymore.
Murderer…
If she knew what I had done, that fearful expression would never leave her face.
She would hate me. No. No, no. She can’t hate me…
I can’t lose her… Or my mother… Why did she have to come now?
Why do I have to face her when I'm still so broken?
I'll have to watch the grief swim through our matching blue eyes, and the moment she'll meet mine, she'll know exactly what I've done. What I begged for that day… This is what they wanted. DeLuca made sure that no matter what, I could never escape her—not even in death. They’re in the fucking trees… They have to be watching her still, lingering over her and waiting to drop the scythe. Ashia’s in there without the knowledge to stay concealed, and now they can see my mother, too. They’ll see them through the windows.
Panic surges through me. I whip around to storm back inside, but then the breath flees from my lungs. The ground rumbles beneath me, and I stagger backward.
“Damien,” my father says like a prayer, and not like he's the monster in my dreams. I only turn back around and stare at the trees again, willing him to vanish. This can’t be happening.
I can’t do this again. She needs me in my right mind, and I’ll never be able to pass off my insanity if I’m still seeing ghosts.
I just need to breathe—pick a tree and stare at it until he disappears, anything other than this. “Just take a moment, son.”
Traitor…
“Go away…” I whisper to myself, begging for the voices to listen.
My hand grips the wooden railing and squeezes until I hear it creak.
That feels real. The breeze is real, but I don’t know what else is.
I don’t deserve to see him. I don’t want him to tell me that everything is alright, because it isn’t.
He’s dead because of me, and his spirit followed me home.
My family will receive punishments they never deserved, and it’s all my fault.
He’s just like them. He’s in the fucking trees.
Dishonorable…
“You’re not here. You’re not fucking real. Go away…” I reach and grip my hair in my other hand, desperate to feel something else that can ground me. The strands pull and sting as I clench my fingers, and the pain helps me take a deep breath in.
“Damien. It’s alright. I’m here,” he speaks again, a little closer this time, and my spine quivers.
“You can’t be here!” I scream, trying to force him to leave, when a firm hand grabs my shoulder.
I flinch and lash out with my fist, not willing to let them take me again, when my father forces his way into my sights.
His firm hands move to grip my face, on either side of my jaw, and I freeze again.
My head starts to pound, and that ringing in my ear is back, trying to pull me into that dark place.
He looks so fucking real. His skin is pale, and for the first time since I was a young kid, he has hair.
It’s still really short, and I almost forgot that his hair was as dark as mine, but the proof of it is right here.
Fresh, white bandages cover his neck, making the illusion even more authentic, but there’s no blood on it.
It’ll reveal itself, though. Just like it did with Henry.
I’ve never known my father to look like this, and I’ve never witnessed this extreme desperation in his eyes.
They’re so wide that I can see his blown pupils and the red veins that snake around his irises.
His hands shake as he grasps my jaw, and he’s using so much force that I can’t pull away. It really feels like him.
“Look at me, Damien! You are not hallucinating! I am real! I am alright.”
His words punch right into my chest, and it steals my breath.
I can’t fucking move. We stand eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe as he forces his way in.
His palms are warm and clammy, like he’s using every bit of the strength he has to keep me grounded.
I can’t fall into the delusions again, but fuck, I want to.
He looks so real. He feels real. I saw what they did to him. How is he here?
“Dad?”
“I’m okay,” he chokes up, and when tears actually spring to his eyes, my knees give in.
I shove his hands away and grip the railing again, not able to accept the only affection he knows.
My stomach sinks as I turn away from him another time.
I’m terrified that the moment I turn back around, he’ll be gone, but I can’t help but look away.
Even if this is another hallucination, I don’t deserve this chance—this gift.
“Talk to me, son. Tell me what’s going through your mind. ”
“You’re not real…” I whisper out, barely able to control my own emotions.
“I am real, Damien. I’m right here.”
“They shot you…”
“Yes, they did.”
I force myself to take a deep breath and let the clean air seep in.
Everything else around me has been real.
Well, anything that I can see, anyway, and to my knowledge, I haven’t been drugged again.
The voices continue to assault my mind, but the breeze hits my face another time, reminding me that I’m home.
“I’ve been in the hospital for some time now, but I needed to see you,” my dad says softly, and I have to swallow back a sob.
“How are you alive?”
“To be completely honest with you, son, I don’t know.
From what I understand, your men acted quickly, and the doctors were able to get to me in time.
Aside from a miracle, I can’t explain it.
” He clears his throat, and then he steps up beside me, adding to the warmth out here.
“If you’re asking me that on a spiritual level, though, I would tell you that I wasn’t done being your father yet. ”
My bottom lip quivers and I’m twelve all over again. I can’t handle it when my father talks like this. He’s never one to show emotions, but I’ve always known how much he loves me. He’s shown it in other ways. Hearing it now in such adoring words is just too much.
“I don’t deserve this…”
“Do not think that, Damien, not for a damn second. No matter what they made you say, think, or do, you cast it out of your mind. Do you understand me?” His voice hardens again, and I just shake my head.
He doesn’t understand the guilt that haunts me.
He doesn’t know that I was willing to give him up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Ashia safe.
He’s giving me more love than I’ve earned.
“All that you need to ask yourself, is did you do everything you could for your family?”
“You don’t understand what I—”
“You think I don’t know?” he interrupts me with a harsh tone, and then he grabs my arm with the same desperation that coats his eyes. “I know when I was shot, and where. I know who was standing right in front of me when that bullet hit. You don’t think I understand what went through your mind?”
I shake my head, unwilling to accept his excuse.
“You’re my family, too…”
“No. What have I taught you, son? Above anything else? Past the fighting, the sneaking, and the weaponry, what have I taught you?”
“To be a good man…”
“No, Damien. I taught you to be a good man for your family. I made sure that when you grew up, you would be able to protect your family—your wife, and your children. No matter what you did, did you do it to protect them?”
“Yes…” I answer without hesitation.
“Then you listen to me one last time. Nothing else matters.
Do you hear me? Nothing. It'll hurt like hell, and you'll have wounds that will never heal, but that's what men do for their families. That's what a good man does. They carry the burden and put the ones they love before anything else. So, if that’s what you did, then…”
He takes a deep, trembling breath in—as if he’s having trouble controlling his emotions. I can’t bear to look at him yet. My gaze remains on the trees, because I know that if I tear my eyes away and see the pain on his face, it’ll destroy me.
“I know I should've said it long before today, but you are everything I could've hoped for in a son and more,” he confesses like he's the one asking for redemption, and I finally look at him once again.
His eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and they hold more pride than I've ever seen before.
The sight forces me to grip the railing a little tighter in hopes of keeping myself on my feet.
“You are exactly the man I knew you would be, and there's nothing they could've made you do that would change my mind.”
He moves his arm from mine and adjusts to grip the side of my head again. His strength only pulls me closer, forcing our faces to stand only about an inch apart.
“I am so damn proud of you, Damien. So whatever guilt you carry for me, get rid of it.”
A sob forces its way out, and I bite my cheeks to stifle anymore.
I want to cast it all away. If I had a choice, every moment I’ve endured this past month would just disappear.
I want that so fucking badly that I would do anything to let this go.
My family deserves a husband and father that can step outside without thinking the trees are trying to kill them all.
They deserve to live a life without danger or consequences for actions they didn't commit.
They've earned a life without my pain. I just want them to be safe.
“It hurts so fucking much, Dad…”
“I know… I know, son. That's when you let your family help you.
Your wife will be what heals you. Your child will make the world brighter again.
It's what we have when we come home that makes the fight worth it.
So, tell me… Forget what your mind says.
Forget what you did, even if it's only for a little while. Cast out all of the bad that you feel you should atone for. Force away whatever your head is telling you that you need. What do you want?”
“I want my wife…” I whisper. I’m not sure how much longer I can go without holding her—how much time I can handle without staring into her eyes.
My body is still so sore, and my head is a mess, but it’s soothing when she’s near.
I want her to know that I’m not angry with her.
She needs to understand that I desire her more than anything else in this world.
I need her to know that no matter how long I was gone, that I thought of her every second.
“Then go to her. Embrace her. Everything else will still be there to haunt you tomorrow. Take her love whenever you can.”