Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
OPHELIA
An hour later, I catch the bus to the community hall, arriving twenty minutes earlier than Bryan usually drops me off. I’m halfway through the alleyway, enroute to my support group, when familiar footsteps sound on the path behind me.
“Well, if it isn’t Regency High’s new sexting queen.”
Gripping my cane firmly, I keep going, refusing to give Damien the satisfaction of glancing over my shoulder. Still weirdly upset he never sent me a response.
When he draws level, I say, “Can’t you just leave me alone for a few minutes?”
“You’re not going in there.” He steps directly in front of me, blocking my path.
“Why?” He’s shadows and outlines in the dark alley, expression hidden, giving me nothing. “Did you tell Philip—”
“I didn’t tell him shit.” He makes a scoffing noise. “I didn’t have to. You stormed out of the room last week and when I ran after you, I was attacked. I had to convince him not to call police.”
Something I should have expected, but this group is my only release valve. “If Philip’s just guessing I’m responsible, then staying away will only prove it.”
I resume walking, and the tap-tap of my cane is the only sound until we reach the end of the alleyway, and Damien blocks me again. “Staying away also gives us a few hours of alone time each week.”
“Why would I want that?”
His hand catches my right elbow, loosening my grip on the cane. Soft clicks as he folds it. “How else will you gain control of the situation?”
“Not by sitting in your car, that’s for sure. You’ll just attack me again.”
I hold out my hand, and he lets the cane touch my palm, then snatches it back. “There are benches around back of the hall, looking over the rugby fields. We can sit there.”
Without waiting for an answer, he strides away.
I fist my hands, arms stiff at my sides, then blow out an exasperated breath and follow. I’m just a step behind when I stumble on the cracked asphalt, and he’s there, steadying me before I can fall.
“Cane,” I demand.
“Alright.” He places it into my palm, hooking his elbow through mine. “Just watch out for my ankles.”
With him guiding me, I don’t need it. The breeze is more cutting behind the community hall, but even though his body radiates heat, I sit apart from him, hands gripping the splintered bench so they won’t stray.
We sit in a silence only broken by the swish of passing cars, then he clears his throat. “So… those pills. Are they because of what happened with Craig?”
“This again?” I laugh in disbelief. “I’m not answering. You haven’t come good with the money you promised me last time, and if you don’t honour your bribes, what’s my incentive?”
“Why are you so secretive?” He slings his arm around my shoulders, pulling my head closer. “Honestly, you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met, yet you never volunteer any information. Most girls gab all about themselves and here I am, pulling teeth.”
“Oh, gee.” I fold my arms, snorting. “I wonder why?”
“Is that a reference to my perfectly legitimate viewing request?”
I stay silent.
“I’m not the one who drove you to suicide. I just—”
“Want to watch. Yeah, I got that loud and clear.” When I turn towards him, he stares straight at me. Unnerving. “How’s this for an idea? Why don’t you tell me why you’re still hanging with Chelsea at every opportunity, even when you’re fucking me.”
The breeze picks up, carrying the scent of rotting leaves and stagnant water from the run-off pipe. I shiver, edging nearer his warmth, and Damien takes hold of my hand, guiding it to a ridge of scar tissue above his elbow.
“You feel that?”
“Sure.”
His fingers bump mine as he rubs it too, like he needs the touch to remember. “My dad. He—”
Damien abruptly straightens, holding out his hand. “Phone.”
I hand it over, but even after checking the screen and pocketing it, he hums and audibly swallows, seeming uneasy. The words are on my tongue, ready to prompt him, but I keep my mouth closed, biting the inside of my lower lip.
“I don’t… feel things like other people.”
His voice is soft, hesitant, but his mimicry has fooled me before.
“Even my base emotions are blunted. Nothing ever lasts long. It drove my dad crazy that I wasn’t scared of him, so he hurt me, trying to rewire my brain so I’d be afraid.”
There’s a pause that stretches just a beat too long.
“We have this basement, carved into the hillside rock. It’s dark and water drips through the rock walls. Always cold, even in the middle of summer.”
Suddenly, his touch is gone. Damien wraps his arms tightly around his torso.
“He pushed me. I fell down the stairs, all eleven of them.” His tone remains flat, and I shiver, my imagination creating the basement’s likeness around me. “The stones are this rough texture, like pumice. They scraped skin off my back when I hit them, and my arm…”
A slight hitch in his breath, so subtle I almost miss it.
“I broke it. The bone poked through the skin. It was—” He laughs, shaking his head. “It was bad, and he left me down there. Honestly, it felt like days. I was unconscious when he bought me out, and between that and the painkillers…”
Damien straightens, pausing for a few seconds, then resumes in a stronger voice.
“An infection had set into the bone, that’s why all the scarring. They cut away all the dead tissue and stabilised it with metal rods. Sets off airport metal detectors half the time.”
I heave in a breath. Around me, the darkness, the dank rock dripping water, the walls closing in from all sides.
“How old were you?”
“Seven, maybe eight.” He shrugs. “Still in primary school, anyway.”
Seven? Just a boy. Baby teeth still falling out.
My fingertips rub across a splinter in the bench beneath me and I pick at it, letting it ground me back in reality. “And did it work? Are you afraid of him?”
“Yeah.” His voice cracks. “Yeah, it worked.”
He sounds lost… young… Still hugging himself for comfort. My fingers twitch, then my arms close around him. Squeezing tight while his body remains stiff, then slowly softens, returning the pressure.
When I pull back, he won’t let me, holding tight for another minute, then another, clinging… before he releases me all at once.
I cover his hand with mine, warming his cold skin. “Are you safe at home, now?”
“He’s not home today.” His voice alters again, almost playful. Like he doesn’t know who or what to be in this moment.
“You know what I mean,” I say softly.
“Yeah. As long as I do what he says, I’m alright.”
“And what does he ask you to do?”
“Right now?”
He faces me and just stares for so long I get self-conscious. Then he lifts me onto his lap like I weigh nothing, burying his face in the curve of my neck. His hand slips beneath the fabric of my blouse, splaying across my lower back.
“You don’t need your glasses, do you?” Already removing them with his free hand. “That’s better.”
I feel vulnerable without them. Probably why Damien took them in the first place, putting us back on level ground.
“He’s asked me to befriend Chelsea so he can get into a room with her dad. Mergers go so much smoother when you’re family.”
I struggle with the unexpected revelation. Then, “Family? He’s asking you to marry her?”
His hand moves along my side, thumb dragging along my ribcage, skin against skin. “Not yet, but who knows?”
I open my mouth.
“No.” He pushes his fingers into my mouth, clamping my tongue. “No more questions.”
Saltiness from his rough skin makes my mouth water. Instead of retracting them, he gently pumps in and out, hitting farther back each time until saliva spills from the corners of my mouth.
“Fuck you look pretty like that, swallowing my fingers.”
A ragged note roughens his voice like his control is fraying, and a tug of arousal shivers through me. He grabs my waist, holding me tighter while his hips press upwards, the length of his cock hardening against my centre until I’m fighting back a moan.
“I want to fuck you against the rear wall of the community hall while Philip’s inside, sympathising with how hard everyone’s life is.
” His lips pour words directly into my ear, reducing the world to his gruff desires.
“Unless you can come up with a better idea in the next thirty seconds, that’s what I’ll do. ”
He pulls his fingers free.
“How can you do that?” I push his hand away from where it’s cupping my breast, and he immediately shifts it back, squeezing harder. “How can you just switch from telling me how your father tortured you to joking about—”
“I’m not joking.” He sucks at my throat and groans, the sound twisting in my gut like longing. “I need you.” His hands are everywhere. His mouth is everywhere. “I need to be in you.”
Damien’s lips find mine, and his kiss is punishing, a clack of teeth, tongue forcing its way inside, desperate, devouring. His fingers twine in my hair, caging me in place as he bites along my neck, grazing my collarbone. Sucking, pulling, marking my skin in a hundred places.
“Need you,” he gasps and the hunger in his voice, the ravenous kiss, the word itself sparks a matching craving inside me.
Need. When I’ve only ever been a burden.
Desire ripples through my body, unbidden. My greedy fingers tug at his hair, then I shove my hands underneath his shirt, exploring the ridges and valleys of his hard muscles.
The gorgeous heat of his body is a coal-stoked fire, igniting every inch of me.
And when he lifts me, his need is the reason my legs wrap around his waist, clinging as he stumbles to the rear of the hall.
My back scrapes on the rough stucco and I don’t care, any more than I care that my panties tear as he drags them aside. Freeing himself with one hand and guiding his hard, pulsing cock inside me.
Instead of fighting, I clutch hold. Heels digging into his muscular arse, helping drive him deeper. My lips swell from his kisses, my fingernails rake across his back, claw at his hips, and I can’t stop, panting for more.
Lost in ecstasy, I suck his tongue, punching his shoulder because it’s good, so good.
Every muscle tightens, clasping, moving with his rhythm.
Friction builds, hotter with every pump of his hips, every heartbeat.
Wave after wave after wave until my eyes roll back, toes curling, and my centre tightens, tightens, and explodes.
For long minutes, I’m lost, ecstasy claiming me so deeply my consciousness drifts, senses unplugged, nothing around me but Damien’s protective warmth and a cloudy haze.
Then my hearing comes back online, his harsh panting in my ear, dissolving into a low chuckle.
“Comfortable?” he… teases? … asks? Then his hips roll forward, cock hardening again inside me.
I can’t… my nerves are over-sensitive, but my mouth doesn’t form the words, and he keeps going until the over-stimulation crosses back into pleasure.
The world is the pounding rhythm of my pulse in my ears and his hard cock in my cunt. Intoxicated on his sweat and cologne. The salty tang of his skin where I suck on his shoulder. Twisting his thick, dark curls between my fingers, giving him a taste of the same exquisite pain he gives me.
The buildup is slower, sweeter this second time around, my release bathing me in a warm glow, arm muscles liquefied by the aftershock. Unable to hold him tight enough. Lost in the joy of surrender.
I don’t know how much time passes before Damien sets me back on the ground, supporting me with his muscular arms until my knees strengthen enough to hold my own weight.
When I’m stable, he replaces my glasses and steps back. A cool breeze sweeps between us, snapping me out of the residual haze, and emotions rush into the gap, shame chief among them.
I cover my face, cheeks burning against my palms.
I can’t get my galloping heart rate under control.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, reaching out again to steady me. “You’re okay.”
His voice is a support and a guide, leading me to his car where he helps me into the passenger side. I perch on the very edge of the seat, back muscles pulled tight as he takes us through the dark streets. The drive taking forever and no time at all.
When he pulls alongside the curb, the house sits in darkness, and my breathing steadies. Bryan’s not yet home.
I can’t look at Damien. I babble something in goodbye and leap from the car, almost running on the pathway to the back door.
Once inside, I slam it shut, lock it, and collapse back against the chilled glass, events of the night jumbled in my head. Thoughts just as chaotic.
Threading through everything is my sympathy for the small boy Damien was, facing a cruel father, parts of him breaking under his abuse.
I could weep for him, even as my mind frets over encouraging the boy he is now. The one who takes whatever he wants, twisting everything towards his own ends.
Learning his history might explain his personality, but it doesn’t reduce my danger.
Making my way upstairs, I’m wrung out. If I let this roller coaster of hate-ecstasy-shame continue for another month, it’ll leave me bleeding.
Tomorrow, I’ll try for leverage again. Maybe argue my way into new terms of agreement. I reach into my skirt pocket. Empty.
“Shit!” Damien’s still got my phone.
Hopefully, Bryan will let me borrow his personal cell until I get it back tomorrow.
My feet stop on the second top stair. I’m a fucking moron.
Damien always takes my phone, but the world is full of other devices I can use to record him. All I need is the foreknowledge of when, because while Bryan might lend me his phone once, he won’t do it for days on end.
I continue into the bedroom, closing the door.
The strategic part of my mind comes back online, clear for the first time in a week. Tonight, Damien gave me more than a horrific snapshot from his past. He gave me a weapon I can use against him.
His dad wants him with Chelsea.
He’s afraid of his dad.
Nausea churns in my stomach. Exploiting Damien’s fear, weaponising the heartbreaking story he just shared? It will easily be the most immoral thing I’ve ever done.
Only a terrible person would use tonight’s admission against him. But I’d rather be awful than stupid.
Besides, Chelsea and his dad are just ammunition, just bullets.
It doesn’t mean I’ll fire the gun.