Chapter Thirteen
Damon
THOSE GRAY EYES bore into me, almost overflowing with the betrayal she tried to hide.
Why did you leave me?
Her question hit me like a punch to the gut, and it only made it worse when she tried to correct herself.
She needed me, and I wasn’t here. That realization shatters my heart. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make it up to her.
When we hugged, I noticed a small wince, and she has foundation on her neck, which means she’s either hiding bruises or hickeys. Did that fucker hurt her?
I swear to god, I will hang him by his ankles and drain all the blood from his body. Slowly. One slice of my knife at a time. I’d enjoy his screams; maybe record them and see if Violet wants to hear the pathetic excuse for a man beg for his life.
I give my head a little shake to clear away the murderous thoughts. Now is not the time to plan that piece of shit’s slow and painful death.
Right now, I need to apologize to the woman in front of me for leaving her and never giving an explanation.
Violet knows about my dad, but she doesn’t know what I’ve been up to since I left town. No one does. I can’t tell her about the Venatores, but I can tell her about the guilt that’s kept me away from here.
“My mom went to the cops once, after my dad came home drunk one night and beat her.” Her face scrunches in confusion at the abrupt change of topic, but I just keep going.
“I was six, maybe seven, at the time, and I tried to get between them, but I wasn’t big enough to stop him.
He busted up her face and fractured her wrist when he pushed her to the floor.
She stayed down, just waiting for him to stop.
I remember holding Alyssa as she cried, how terrified my little sister was. ”
Violet’s staring at me with those bright, gray eyes, giving me the space to speak. She was always the only one I felt comfortable sharing stuff like this with. She never judged, never made me feel guilty or ashamed of my circumstances and emotions. She always just listened. Made me feel seen.
“When he wasn’t getting a reaction out of my mom anymore, he left, saying he was going back to the bar.
My mom got Alyssa and me in the car and drove us down to the police station.
They arrested my dad, but he only spent the one night in jail.
I think one of his drinking buddies was on the force and pulled some strings to get him out.
“Despite the years of abuse she told them about and the injuries she had, he was allowed to remain free. That’s when I learned that the justice system doesn’t always provide justice for domestic violence victims.”
I’ve been twirling the stem of my wine glass as I talk, staring at the legs left behind on the sides. When I look up, Violet is patiently waiting for me to continue.
“After the divorce, my dad tried to contact Alyssa once. She was terrified, but my mom couldn’t get a restraining order to go through to protect us.
So, I took it upon myself. I was tall enough to be intimidating, and I cornered him in an alley behind his favorite bar one night.
I wore a ski mask and a bulky sweater so he wouldn’t recognize me.
I got a few good hits in before he hit the ground and stayed down.
“I told him if he ever came near Alyssa or my mom again, I would know and I would kill him. And it must have really scared him, because we never saw or heard from him again. Not until he died.”
The next part is hard to admit to her. It’s something I’ve barely been able to admit to myself.
After I confronted my dad, I realized I could have stopped him sooner.
If my mom and I had just stood up to him together, we could have overpowered him.
But I never tried, never even talked to her about what he was doing.
I just let her deal with it while I dealt with my own abuse from him.
And now I can’t even see my mom without feeling like a failure.
I tell all of this to Violet and then down the rest of my drink.
“And that makes me even more pissed, because it means he’s won. He wanted me to believe I was a failure, a fuckup, and in a way, I am.”
It feels kind of nice to get it off my chest.
I wish I could tell her the rest. Tell her about the Venatores. Maybe if I did, she would tell me about what’s going on with Aaron and I could help if she needed. But she’s a reporter, and there’s a greater chance that she’d blow our cover. I can’t risk the organization’s mission like that.
“You couldn’t have called?” Violet finally says. “Or, I don’t know, just stopped by to say hi. I’m sure you’ve been through the state with all the traveling the fair does.”
“I couldn’t.” I also can’t meet her eyes right now.
“But you came back to work the fair here?” Her question comes out like an accusation.
I have to give her something. I roll my lips as I debate how to say this without revealing too much. “The fair is . . . more than it appears to be.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” She’s pissed at me now, but if I told her the truth about the Carnival of Devils, it would put too many people in danger.
“Look, I can’t tell you everything, but please know that I’m sorry for leaving you.
That was one of the hardest decisions I ever made, but it was for your own good.
” And that’s true. I could never drag Violet into the world I’m a part of.
She doesn’t need to see the terrible things people do. The terrible things I do.
“My own good,” she scoffs and shakes her head, and I notice a few tears brimming in her eyes. “I loved you, Damon,” she chokes out. “And I thought you loved me, too, thought we were going to get out of this town together, but you abandoned me.”
Her eyes dart around the room when the front door opens. Is she worried about someone seeing her with me?
“Violet, I’m so sorry. I—” I’m about to tell her I loved her—love her—too, but she cuts me off.
“It doesn’t matter. You chose to stay away, and you don’t get to just walk back into my life with some half-truth apology and then go on like you didn’t leave me.” She gets up and walks away, leaving me with cold zeppolis.