Chapter 13
Damien
Four Days Later
'Somewhere Only We Know' – Renee Dominique
Traitor…
They speak to me even as I stare at the floor.
I’ve tried very hard the past few days to ignore them, but they’re getting louder.
My dreams are becoming more realistic each night, and it’s hard for me to shake them away.
Alex’s face made something click, something that I’ve been trying to avoid, and I know my nightmares are trying to tell me what it is.
I hate how he looked at me. His eyes locked onto mine like I was going to kill him, and for a moment, I was going to…
I was just so fucking angry. His touch caught me off guard, and knowing Ashia was right beside me kicked my protective instinct into gear.
My hand tightened around his throat like I could snap it in an instant.
His life was mine to take in that moment, and when I saw the fear that resided in his eyes, he looked like all the others—all of my victims.
It didn’t even look like him when I turned around.
For a brief moment, he was Saconne… It was like everything around me vanished and I was back there once again.
That one simple touch had me reeling in desperation, and I would’ve done anything in that moment to survive.
It wasn’t until my little wolf called for me that I realized what I had done.
I couldn’t even bear to look at her… I know the fear I would’ve seen in her eyes…
“How do you feel with your parents going back home today?” the doctor asks, snaking her way into my mind.
“Fine.” I don’t take my eyes off the floor, not willing to look up at her yet. There’s a brief pause, a dead silence that feels anything but empty before she starts again.
"I see you now have some outfits for your daughter. Does that make you feel a little more prepared?" Dr. Von inquires, but she sounds muffled, like she’s more than just a few feet away. An invisible veil is blocking my ears, and all I can seem to focus on is the beating of my heart.
"Yes," I answer automatically, not really paying attention to what she said.
Foul…
“Did you even look at her face before you smothered her?”
My eyes snap up to her.
“What did you just say?” My tone comes off sharp and quick, surprising her. Her eyebrows pinch together, and her lips thin into a straight line, like I’ve truly confused her.
"I asked if your wife likes her new car?"
Wicked…
I blink a few times, desperate to make them stop.
I obviously heard her wrong… That’s been happening the past few days, too.
The voices are starting to come alive, impersonating the people around me.
First, it was Alex…then it moved onto Zeke and Carter—even Serena at one point.
Thankfully, I haven’t snapped again like I did a few days ago, but there’s no telling when I will again.
Apart from Ashia, I don’t know who to trust. I know that she’s the only safe space for me, and that’s why they couldn’t get to her before.
"Hasn't she told you?" I retort, no longer trusting what she says. The confusion on her face deepens, and then she closes her laptop softly.
"I figured she would have been clear about her feelings. Ashia refuses to speak to me. So, apart from my observations around the home, I have no idea how she feels.” She tilts her head, staring at me like she’s growing curious. “Are you two having trouble communicating?"
"No," I snap back.
Liar…
I close my eyes and keep them shut, focusing only on the sounds of my breathing. If I focus on that, perhaps I can make them go away long enough to get through this damn hour.
"Are you hearing them now?” Dr. Von’s tone is soft but curious, as if by her question alone, she didn’t already know that answer. “When do the voices normally present themselves?" she asks next. I open my eyes once again and force myself to participate in the session.
“What do you mean?”
“Are they more pronounced when you’re stressed or tired?”
“I haven't noticed a pattern.” I keep my answer vague.
“Or perhaps certain emotions bring them out? Maybe when you're sad or scared?”
“I said I don't know!” I yell, immediately regretting it. What the hell is happening to me? This anger that’s residing under my skin is slowly taking over.
I know that everyone is trying to help me, including Dr. Von, but I feel like they’re all watching me like I’m a lunatic that needs to be studied.
They’re wondering when I’ll break, but they don’t realize that I’m worried about that too.
She sets her hands on top of her desk in a slow, careful act.
"By asking these questions, Damien, I am only trying to help. If we can navigate our way to the origin of the voices, perhaps we can find a way to silence them. You’ve expressed in previous sessions that your goal was to stop hearing them.
Is that still the case?” I look up at her in response to her question and nod, wanting that more than almost anything.
There’s a good chance she can’t help me, but at this point, even the possibility is a beacon of hope.
She nods back once, accepting my silence.
“It's my understanding that you've always been able to hear them, correct? "
"Yes, but…not like this." I shake my head, waiting for them to resurface. She watches me closely, like she’s also expecting the same.
"Can you elaborate?”
“Before, it was more a feeling than actual words. It was more of an urge—an overwhelming compulsion. Now, it’s…it’s just different.”
“What about them is different?"
"They're louder," I admit. “A compulsion is still there, but I don’t know what it is… I hear what they say, and it feels like I need to do something, but they won’t fucking tell me!” My voice gets loud once again, so I swallow a harsh inhale, needing to pull myself back.
"Do they sound like your own voice? Or someone you know?"
"What do you mean?"
"Usually, when someone is able to hear their own thoughts, it’s either in a voice they’ve heard or their own.”
I think for a moment, not really believing it’s either option. They speak in ghostly whispers, almost as if they’re transparent. I can’t decipher their tones, because it feels like there’s multiple of them speaking at once.
“Let me ask another question. Do they have an accent now, but didn't before? Perhaps, Italian?" Her question sends ice through my spine, making me shiver.
“I… I can’t really tell.”
“Are you sure?” she asks accusingly. No. I’m not sure. Sometimes it feels like they do, and other times not. There are times, in my dreams, I think it’s really them, and then I swear that I can hear them when I wake up. “May I be blunt with you?”
“You haven’t been so far?” I grind my teeth.
“You are a man that needs control. While much of your life is chaotic and unpredictable, you have always been in a position where you can decide how you react and respond. You went an entire month without an ounce of that authority. All of the pain you went through was unstoppable. Every act you committed wasn’t by your choice.
Even now, as you walk around your own home, you feel chaotic, and that’s because once again, you feel like you don’t hold the reins to your own life. You haven’t even left the property—”
“I don’t need to,” I interject.
“Why not?”
Flashes of the motorcycle crash play through my head once again, and then I recall the collision Ashia was in.
The agony of both events spreads throughout my body like a disease, attacking every cell that it can reach.
My back aches almost as gruesomely as my chest, reminding me of the emptiness I felt—the darkness.
Once again, I thought I had lost the love of my life.
Those few hours of hell were the worst of them all, and knowing the possibility of feeling that again is closer than I ever anticipated, I want to do everything to prevent it from happening.
“I have everything I need right here.” My answer is vague, once again.
“So what happens when you need to leave?”
Feccia…
“We don’t need to leave.”
“We? I’m assuming you and Ashia?” My body locks up, and the presumptuous tone in her voice increases the churning heat in my gut.
I hate the way she says Ashia’s name, like she’s an afterthought or thorn in her side.
My little wolf is everything, and Dr. Von may not understand that she is my compass, but she’ll always guide me.
“Ashia will need to leave at some point, Damien, even if you don’t. ”
“She’s not going anywhere without me,” I seethe. She sits back in her chair, and while her face doesn’t show her usual arrogance, there is a look of achievement there.
“There’s that control.”
That almost sends me over the edge.
“I do not control my wife! I’m trying to protect her!” I stand to my feet, the tingling in my limbs starting to pulse.
“Is that why you won’t let her in? Why you don’t tell her the truth?
” The alarm on her phone goes off, signaling the end of our session.
It sounds like the end of a trial. “To me, it seems like you’re holding her at arm’s length to protect yourself.
Talk to her. If she’ll truly help you as much as you think she will, open up to her.
It should be easier for you, considering she—” That alarm keeps blaring, but I don’t waste a minute to turn on my heels and walk away, slamming the door on my way out.
My time is up, and she won’t convince me to jeopardize Ashia for my own sake.
I swing with my fist, desperate to get away. My heart is hammering, pounding, wanting to bust right out of my chest. I don’t even think to brace myself for the impact on his jaw, but the moment it hits, my hand sinks into his face. It’s not harsh. The landing is soft and plush, even warm .