Chapter 4
Damien
The Next Day
Feccia…
My eyes flutter open, and while it's still fuzzy at first, it's clearly brighter.
The ceiling that was once dark, neglected stone, is now a soft white.
Sunlight pours in from windows that aren't normally there, and as I force myself to look around the room, a stillness overtakes the space. It's calm. There’s a soothing essence here, and it’s one that I used to know so well.
I try to move my arms, and while my back and shoulders strain with the effort, I am able to move them.
The shackles are gone. My hands graze against something soft and plush, sending comfort through my body.
I force myself to sit up, having to grit my teeth at the pain.
It's not as bad as it has been, but it still packs a punch.
The room spins a little. It rises and falls in waves, but then it settles as I sit straight.
Familiar furniture catches my eye, and the soft blanket draped over me heats my body even more.
It's Ashia’s. I know it is by the feeling and the color.
It even smells like her. I can't help but soak it in as I take the first easy breath I've had in weeks.
She's curled up in the chair, asleep beside me. Her face is stained with dried tears, and her long black hair is draped beautifully over her shoulder. I know she's real. As her scent and aura surround me, I feel it deep in my bones. I’m not dreaming anymore. I’m home.
Daisy lies next to her on the floor, and somehow, things have both never felt so right and so wrong at the same time.
This is exactly where I’ve wanted to be since the moment I wrecked the motorcycle.
I’ve wanted nothing but her in my arms and the feeling of her skin under my palm.
My nose should be buried in her hair, and her pulse would be beating against my lips as I kiss down her neck.
All I want is to hold her close, but there’s still a chance that she can be taken from me again—whether that be by someone else, or by her choosing.
She doesn’t know what I went through, but I saw the pain my absence caused her.
I witnessed the violence she turned to just to get me back.
Her screams are the loudest in my mind, and even though she’s asleep now, it’s all I can imagine from her.
I saw the love in her eyes the moment I opened mine, but she doesn’t understand that I’m no longer worthy of it.
I failed her long before I ever thought of it.
If she never met you, she would’ve never had to feel this pain…
Even though she’s dead, DeLuca’s words are still fresh in my mind.
They mingle with the voices as they snake their way through, and it’s like she’s in the room with us.
As much as I hate it, she was right. I brought all of this down upon us.
The danger that she’s in, just by being my wife, will be too much.
If what I heard before was real, and not some delusion, then she’s already in danger from her own health.
The stress I’ve already subjected her to is now affecting our baby, and she doesn’t even know everything yet.
What will she think of me when she learns what I’ve done?
How will that impact her health? Zeke sounded very concerned earlier when they were talking.
Ashia tried to downplay it, but I know my wife.
I could hear the truth behind her voice.
While I may not know exactly what’s going on with her, I heard him say something about bed rest and restricted movement.
My baby girl…our daughter…is already at risk, and I can’t have the truth of my actions make this any worse.
She isn't even aware of the threat that’s followed her since the moment I was taken.
She doesn’t know Sette is out there somewhere, and I can’t alert the others without scaring her.
When he killed my father, she was standing right in front of him.
She saw how quickly he was taken from us.
I don’t want her to be afraid of the same rapid fate.
Her body can’t handle the stress of that paranoia, and I know what needs to be done.
No matter how much it hurts, or how hard I have to push myself, I have to ensure my family’s health.
My muscles strain as I shift my legs over the side of the bed, and I cling to her blanket as the fabric rubs against my bare skin.
Most of the wounds on my chest and shoulders are covered, but some aren’t, and the threads catch as I move.
They pull and sting, just like the rest of my body, but I push myself to keep moving, knowing that while my wife may believe this is all over, that’s far from the truth.
As I stand to my full height and listen to my body crack like dried wood, I notice Zeke on the floor at the edge of the room.
He’s under a thick blanket and lying on a pillow, but I imagine the hardwoods aren’t comfortable.
While I want to wake him up, I also don’t want to worry him with this.
He’ll think I’m out of my mind and force me back down, then we won’t stop Sette in time.
So, I’ll have to find him myself.
There’s a stack of my clothes on the top of the dresser, and I’m careful to step over to it, cautious as not to burden Ashia with my objective.
She’s clearly exhausted. Underneath the tear marks, I can see the subtle dark circles.
Her arm lays lazily across her big belly, and while that sight is something I’ve begged God for weeks to have, it only reminds me of the danger that still lurks outside.
If I don’t move quickly enough, he’ll take her away from me.
It doesn’t matter that I’m home. I know there are others that can deliver my punishment.
The clothes they laid out for me are soft and comfortable.
While they hang a little loosely on my body, it’s nice to feel the fabric against my skin.
My shirt makes a little cringey noise as it pulls against my bandages, but that’s nothing compared to what I’ve had to deal with recently.
The suit they made me wear was caked with blood, and it was so tight on my skin that it restricted my breathing, making my paranoia at the time more prevalent.
So, I’ll take sweatpants and a T-shirt any day.
Once I manage to dress myself without falling over, I step over to Zeke as quietly as possible.
His gun is set next to him, and while it probably wasn’t smart to leave it lying around, I’m grateful that he did.
When I go searching for Sette, I’ll have to finish him and get back quickly before Ashia realizes I’m gone.
I’m too weak to take him on in a physical fight, so the gun is necessary.
I grab his pistol and sneak out of the room, thankful that I can maneuver well enough to keep everyone asleep.
I find it a little odd that Serena and Derek are each lying on a couch in the living room, also in a slumber, but I ignore it for now.
I vaguely remember their presence, and now that I know they’re real as well, that helps me piece some things together.
The pain I felt and flashes of their faces resurface, and I’m glad to know it was real.
It’s been hard to tell what was a hallucination and what wasn’t since the first time I was drugged.
The front door doesn’t make a sound as I open it, then when I step out into the sunlight, it almost blinds me.
It must be late in the afternoon, and while the beams are overbearing, there’s a cool breeze that whips across my face.
I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been gone, but I can feel the bite in the air that summer doesn’t normally have.
The trees also have little specks of red and orange, telling me that the seasons are changing, if they haven’t already.
My skin is soaking up any trace of the heat that it can, and I can feel it take in every stream of light as I stand in it—probably because I haven’t seen it in weeks.
While I want to absorb it all, I can’t help but keep my eyes glued to the tree line, knowing he’s out there somewhere.
I stare into the forest, wondering where he could be hiding.
When I built this house, I thought the surroundings would be a great cover.
It would keep people from seeing us, and when I had a family, I thought it would help me protect them.
That’s a lie too, though. Now, it’s just become another weapon against us, and there’s no telling how many threats against my wife and daughter are in those trees.
The highest number I heard them say was seven, but I imagine there’s plenty more.
Perhaps he’s waiting for backup, and that’s why he hasn’t acted yet.
When Sette watched her here, it was almost always from the front of the house.
The one exception was that clip of her on the back porch, but every other time was from out here somewhere.
If I remember correctly, he was aiming to his left to get a good enough view, so that must mean he’s set up to the left of my current position, if I’m looking in the opposite direction.
My eyes immediately scour the trees on that side, knowing he won’t kill me immediately.
If anything, they’ll want to drag me back, and he’ll receive punishment if he takes my life before they can.
“Baby? What are you doing out here?” Ashia says softly from the doorway, and my blood runs cold. She can’t be out here. He’ll fire at her without hesitation now that she’s visible. Sette proved that with my father.
“Go back inside, Ashia,” I demand. I hate how shaky my voice sounds, and even though I try to swallow as harshly as I can to settle it, I’m not sure that it works.
It’s clear she doesn’t listen to me, though.
Her shuffled movements sound like nails on a chalk board as she steps up to me, and then my spine rattles—sending me into motion.