Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
OPHELIA
I manage classes as normal until after lunch, then call into the sick bay for the last two lessons, unable to stomach sitting near Damien after this morning’s performance. Although I spend the two hours curled on my side, facing the wall, the time passes at breakneck speed.
Yet the moment I walk onto the forecourt of the carwash café, the clock stops moving.
Fifteen increasingly nervous minutes crawl by as I hover beside the main door, inhaling wax and tyre polish cut through with the crispness of lemon-scented suds.
My palms scuff on the cinderblock wall, but I keep them pressed against the surface, so I won’t check my phone for the hundredth time.
“Hey!”
I jump at Damien’s sudden appearance, his tall frame throwing me into shadow. His fingers splay across my lower back, guiding me to a sleek SUV, the colour of fresh blood.
“Phone.”
After this morning, I fully expected the demand but still feel aggrieved about handing it over. A sensation born more from my unpreparedness than resentment at Damien.
I had all weekend. I should’ve thought of something better.
When I sink into the leather seat, I leave the passenger door sitting open.
“In or out, Snowflake? If you wanted to skip this meeting altogether, you’ve left things a bit late.”
“Can’t we talk in the café? You could put this into the washing queue.”
“And have them spoil my paintwork? I don’t think so.”
When I still hesitate, he circles the car, patting my outer thigh to check I’m fully inside before slamming the door. I distract myself by exploring the dash with my fingertips, inhaling the rich scent of the upholstery.
“You okay there? You’re looking a little on edge.”
“Just an allergic reaction to your bullshit.”
He laughs and leans across me, radiating body heat as he fixes the strap across my chest, fingers lingering far too long.
It’s such a confusing show of care. A muscle tightens in my belly, and I snap, “I do know how to pull on a seatbelt.”
“Of course you do,” he teases, enunciating each word like I’m a child. I flinch when his hand appears near my face, tucking strands behind my ear. “Very jumpy. Perhaps you should’ve tried swallowing a few of those pills.”
“I don’t—”
The engine roars into life, vibrating through the seat and into my bones. He tears out of the forecourt, vehicle shimmying on the slick asphalt.
“Where are you taking me?” My knuckles whiten on the dashboard.
“Not far. Just somewhere a bit more private.”
He takes a corner so fast, I’m thrown against the door, and yelp.
“Relax. You’ve been in cars before. I’ve followed you, remember?”
“Yeah, and Bryan understands the speed limit.”
Tyres screech as he stamps on the brakes. The seatbelt scores a line of pain across my chest, air whooshing from my lungs.
Damien grips my jaw, twisting me towards him, shoving his face in mine. “Who the fuck is Bryan?”
The answer’s on my tongue, but I bite it back. “None of your business.”
“Tell me.”
Car horns blare around us, but Damien doesn’t flinch. His gaze scorches through my dark lenses.
“Get your hands off me.”
“Or what? You’ll pepper spray me again?” He gestures at the busy road. “With all these witnesses?”
I clamp my jaw shut.
After an eternity, he leans back in his seat, palms up in mock surrender. “If you’re not willing to share with me, I’m just going to add a punishment to today’s activities. Your choice.”
And he would.
Saturday morning’s rage resurfaces, pulsing, hot, but I’ve run out of room to manoeuvre. Until I arrive at a new plan, I’m better off conceding, at least over something so small.
“Bryan is Mum’s ex. I live with him.”
“And you’re her replacement?”
Revulsion twists my face, drawing his relieved laughter.
“Your guardian?”
“Something like that.”
He finally resumes driving. Minutes later, he pulls into the mall’s parking building and winds up the levels until we reach the open-air top. He parks diagonally in a corner, and the high Perspex barriers form a tiny see-through prison on the left side, isolated from the other cars.
The engine’s ticking fills the sudden silence.
“Can I have my medicine back now, please?”
Instead of answering, Damien gets out and circles the vehicle, opening my door and crouching in front of me. His fingers touch my hair, unexpectedly gentle, and I lower my face as a lump swells in my throat.
I bite my cheek until I taste blood.
“We’ll talk about that once I’ve confirmed your intentions. Are you planning to harm someone, my little ghost?”
Of all the nicknames, this one does something curious to my insides. Maybe it’s the possessive that ignites a coil in my belly.
Even crouching, he’s still taller. His knuckle tilts up my chin and the same undercurrent of attraction I always feel in his presence tugs at me. His darkness calling to mine.
“They’re just to help me function.”
“Sure.” His heavy gaze rakes across my face, making my pulse jump. “Maybe it’s naive, but when you insisted I be honest, I expected the same from you.”
When I remain silent, he provides the answer himself. “You plan on killing yourself, is that right?”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I nod. Terrified of what comes next if he tells on me. Counselling. Talk therapy. Medication, and probably by injection this time so I can’t fake it.
Constant vigilance, no one allowing me an ounce of privacy.
“Don’t look so sad. I won’t tell your secret to anyone else. Not if you do what I want.”
I hitch in a breath, letting tears well, then sniffing them back; no longer sure which parts are acting. He catches one stray with the ball of his thumb.
“No need for tears either, you’ll get everything back. I can get you any pills you want, so long as you follow through on our agreement.”
I wipe my running nose with the back of my hand and Damien cups my head, bending forward until my cheek rests against his chest, confusion mixing with comfort.
Once my sobs subside, he tilts my chin again, not caring about the damp circles on his shirt.
“And what have I agreed to?” I whisper.
A soft smile graces his lips, then he stands, bringing me to my feet, moving me aside just long enough to slam the door, then forcing my body back against it.
“When you do it,” he says, lips finding my ear. “When you take them, I want to be there.”
The answer knocks the air from my lungs, and my mind spins. The response is so peculiar, so particular to him, I have no guide.
“I’ll fuck you first, as many times and as many ways as can take, and when I’m the last man who’ll ever claim you, I’ll watch you swallow. Watch as your consciousness fades…”
Damien’s grip tightens, his torso pinning me.
His heartbeat drums against my chest, heavy and insistent, until the rhythm drowns out everything else and my pulse stumbles, then matches his.