Chapter 41
Damien
‘The Other Side’ - Ruelle
Sinful…
I’m back in the God-forsaken chair. The restraints continue to bite into my wrists, and I’m almost positive they’re bleeding again, but I can only feel the slow drip that occasionally lands on my fingertips.
Everything is so bland. The walls and floor are grey.
My skin is colorless. Even the chair looks cloudy.
My life is missing its pigment. Eyes that only search for the love of my life have gone too long without their sight, and everything has gloomed around me.
Corrupt…
My mind is a wasteland. They haven’t dosed me today, and I think I’m going through withdrawals.
I shake with such force that the chair creaks, and I’ve never heard it do that before.
I’m constantly moving between dimensions, and I can’t tell what’s real anymore.
When I first started to see them, it was only for a matter of minutes, I think.
The first time I felt her, it didn’t last long enough.
Now, she’s barely here at all. Only my ghosts accompany me now.
Foul…
They creep through the fog in my mind, and I can feel them staring at me.
Each word is spoken with unmoving lips. There’s no source for the noise.
They just faintly coat the air around my ears so no one else can hear them.
My father, my sister, my friend, the woman, the children. Over and over, they speak.
Unholy…
I can feel her fighting to break through them.
My one light in this life. She’s the only reason I continue to breathe.
I can feel the need to have her consume me.
I’m holding onto every ounce of my sanity just to catch a glimpse of her—even just a whisp of her scent.
I can faintly feel her nails rake against my scalp, and my spine quivers.
A ghost of a touch grazes my lips, and I reach for her, leaning as far forward as the chair will let me.
“Make it stop…” I beg, hoping that if I speak into the void that she’ll be able to hear me.
“I need to feel you. I need to hear you. Make them go away, little wolf…” I swallow the blade in my throat, willing to plead with her until they slice right through my vocal cords.
“Sing for me? Touch me? Just once, please… Just one more time…”
Unworthy…
They’re right. I don’t deserve her.
Dishonorable…
I’m sorry.
Murderer…
I didn’t want to.
Tears continuously stream down my face. Each drop mingles with the sweat that drips down my forehead.
My world is so distorted that the frigid air acts as heat.
Nothing makes sense. I’ve been alone for too long.
They’re letting me fade away, and I don’t know why.
This is just another test that I’ll fail.
They’re forcing my hand when I have nothing to reach out with.
I want to go home.
Failure…
The door slowly creeps open, and I force myself to look up.
Victoria, DeLuca, and Saconne all walk inside.
They seem real enough. Victoria’s face looks even more bruised than the last time I saw her, but the emotions there are something I haven’t seen from her before.
She looks remorseful, like whatever they’re about to say will only make everything worse.
There’s a hint of fear in her eyes as well, and I only shiver more harshly at the sight.
“Damien,” DeLuca says softly. I must be dreaming. I’m not sure she’s ever called me by my name, and she certainly hasn’t spoken to me in such a tone. “I have come to offer you something.”
“Yes, Direttrice…” I reply, knowing that I don’t have the energy to fight. Any force I could possibly use against her has dwindled to nothing. They’ve proved their point, and I’m not able to fend them off anymore. She kneels down in front of me and lays a gentle, cold hand on my knee.
“Your old life is gone, bambino. It’s time to stop fighting.”
Ashia’s smile instantly comes to mind at her words, like it knew I needed the image to keep going.
I can never agree to this. No matter what they make me do to keep her safe, I have to hold on to that little piece of me that will never be theirs.
Ashia will always prevail. It doesn’t matter what they throw at me. I will always be hers.
“Never…”
She frowns and then stands to turn towards the monitor.
I use almost all of my strength to pick my head up and look as well, needing to see her more than I need to breathe.
It flickers to life, and when a different feed takes over the screen…
everything stops. My breaths. My heart. My head.
Even the voices hush. The world falls out of orbit, and the entire universe comes crashing down upon me.
The angle is from what looks like a dashcam.
Her car is only about four or five vehicles ahead, and as it turns left onto another street, it’s hit.
I draw in a sharp breath, and it punches my lungs so harshly that I almost fold over.
The crash rings out through the room, and then it…
explodes. I can’t help but flinch, as if I’m inside that screen, witnessing it for myself.
In seconds, the entire vehicle is engulfed in flames, and my heart is reduced to ashes.
No…
She pauses the video, but I don’t look away.
My gaze is locked on the solid vision of my demise.
The voices come back to life, and they just slowly get louder, allowing the anticipation to build.
They carry rage into battle with them, along with the despair that’s starting to make its way through my veins.
They were supposed to protect her. She was supposed to be safe.
Everything I’ve done in the past weeks was to keep her out of harm's way. Even from afar, all I wanted was to protect her and make my way home. Every moment my eyes have studied her flashes through my mind, creating my own personal torture-reel. Every smile. Every laugh. Every frown. Every tear. Each time she’s called my name, whether that be in pleasure or agony, it all collides in one motion—riling up the spirits even more.
It all makes sense now. The looks on their faces, their tones, the fear in Victoria’s eyes—it’s all because she knows I no longer have a reason to help her.
I don’t have a reason to fight. There’s no way she could’ve survived that explosion…
They’re acting like this because they know what they haven’t said aloud.
My wife is dead.
Ashia is dead.
Ashia. Is. Dead.
No.
No. No. No!
My throat tightens to a point of agony, and a painful sob slips out.
The demons are here now. I feel them as they force their claws into my mouth and reach down to rip my heart from my body.
Their snarls and spit ravage the air around me as they scavenge for every bit of my humanity.
They’ve taken everything from me, and they’ve made sure to make it as agonizing as possible.
My entire form explodes with unbearable suffering as they rip it away.
I scream, allowing the pain to take hold.
“I DID EVERYTHING YOU SAID!” Violent jolts from my sobs jerk my body back and forth, and I pull against the restraints, forcing more pain into my limbs.
DeLuca kneels in front of me once again.
There’s multiple of her now, like the echoes from different times have manifested themselves to conjure here.
They’ve all come to deliver this punishment.
Every pain that I’ve earned is coming forth now.
“Feccia… It was time,” she reveals, and I force myself to look up at her through pooled tears.
Those cruel, demonic eyes bore into mine.
Her wicked fingers trace my jawline, and I lash out, no longer caring about the consequences.
I throw my head forward to try and hit her.
At this moment, that’s the least I can do to her for taking the love of my life.
Much worse will come to her, but nothing will ever compare to the emptiness in my chest. It doesn’t work, though.
I don’t even touch her. I’m too weak. My strength is already fading away in hopes that I’ll decay.
She digs her talons into my cheeks and pushes her face even closer, invading the space around me that’s somehow darker than even her aura.
“You have nothing now! We are your only salvation.”
I don't want it. There's no place among space or time where I would survive without Ashia. Everything around me now means nothing. They’ve taken my destiny from me—the one reason I was put on this earth. I was meant to serve her, and now my faith has disappeared. This isn’t the life we were meant to live.
We were built for eternity. God pieced us together for one thing alone, and that was to find one another.
Our connection is the foundation to our entire existence, which is crumbling beneath me now.
I was supposed to watch how years of my love aged with her.
Time would’ve graced her beauty with elegance.
We were supposed to fade into the afterlife together, side by side, at an old age, with our fingers intertwined even in death. She was supposed to be mine forever.
I had her.
She was mine!
She was fucking mine!
THEY WERE FUCKING MINE!
The love we held for one another was going to grow with our child.
A perfect, pure representation of us both was going to enter this dark world—she was meant to be a star among meteors in this wasteland.
The world would’ve conformed to live in her beauty.
It would’ve had to grow to make room for her excellence, and now, the universe will grieve a life never lived.
My chest explodes with an other-worldly pain, and I scream again.
DeLuca’s hand leaves my face, and I just let my head fall into the void.
My strength is gone. Everything around me starts to fade away, and there’s nothing around me but darkness.
The stones, the chair, those vile Italians—it all goes away.
Everything but what’s left of her. I can hear my soul calling her name.
My mind demands for her spirit as it roars for death, knowing that they’ll be there waiting for me on the other side.
Faint, newborn cries echo through the mist, and I can faintly hear a soothing ssshhhh.
They’re waiting for me—calling for me. That’s why I can feel her again. They’re alone. She doesn’t like to be alone. Our paradise isn’t complete without me beside her, and she’ll never get to rest. We need to be together. The universe deemed it so.
Damien…
I draw in a gasp as I hear her voice. The space around me is empty now.
It’s nothing but black smoke, with hints of vanilla and spice.
My lungs pull in every trace of it possible, willing to only be filled with her.
I shiver again when I feel the beads of sweat roll down my limbs, and a warmth covers my face.
Her nails graze my jaw, and I can finally feel her lips press onto my forehead.
I lean into it again, willing to fall as deeply into the illusion as I can.
“I love you…” I choke out. Whispers play out around me, but I only focus on her voice, desperate to hear her say it back.
I’m begging to a God—one that clearly doesn’t exist—to take me to her.
I allow my mind to sink so far into the depths that I’m swimming through empty waters.
As I sink, the light only grows weaker, but I don’t even reach for it.
I’m clawing away the air bubbles so I can sink to the bottom of a never-ending ocean.
But no matter how far I allow myself to slip, she never says it back.
I’ve failed her for the last time, and I’ll never be able to resurface.