Chapter 44 – Damir
DAMIR
“In My Room” by Chance Pena
Present
Purple irises.
The old journal sits on the table, the blanket folded beside it. Another song plays on repeat, and my hands… fuck. My hands won't stop moving, fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw.
Broken. So many demons, so many thoughts, but none strong enough to name what I feel with her lying here, vulnerable in a way I was never supposed to see.
“You’re always so sad…” I whisper, though she won’t hear it, not in her sleep, not in her dreams, if she even has them.
She can’t die. I can’t kill her. I don’t want to.
I’ve never doubted a mission, not once. But if it’s true, if she’s that little girl, if all she does is fight for something that was stolen from her, then why should I stop her?
Why do I feel lighter with her next to me?
Why does a fucking smile pull at my lips as I watch her sleep on my chest?
Is she killing me?
Maybe. Maybe her trust is a poison that’s soaked into my bloodstream, maybe her eyes carved into my ribs until my heart turned soft and weak.
Voron.
Voron.
Voron.
I inhale sharply, lifting her into my arms. She shifts slightly, sighs against me, and something in my chest tightens, she’s beautiful.
Does it make sense, this kind of beauty? I don’t think so, but my heart, traitorous, reckless, and alive, recognizes it. Like it was waiting for this moment, like it never thought it would see something like this in a lifetime built on blood and lies.
I lay her on the bed, but I don’t leave, I can’t.
Instead, I lie beside her, still dressed, barely breathing. She’s too close… no. She’s not close enough.
Do I even want to keep tracking her? Or am I just doing a shitty job on this mission?
Fuck.
She breathes so softly, and all I can do is stare. Her face, calm, relaxed, but still so, so sad.
And her words, they echo in my skull, burrow into my skin.
I need to know more, I need to know everything. I don’t know why, I just do, but not now, not tonight.
Tonight, all I want is this, her beside me, the sound of her breathing, the weight of her existence.
I won’t touch her. I won’t move.
I’ll just stay.
And maybe, if I’m lucky, she’ll pull me into whatever dream world she’s in.
My gaze met small drawings on the ceiling of her room. Stars. Drawn by hand, and all I want is to stay underneath the sky she created.