Chapter 22
Damien
Nine Days Later
‘Follow You Down’ - Voyageur
This couch feels much more comfortable with my wife beside me.
She has the special blanket draped across her, and she’s holding my hand tightly as I rest it on her belly, clearly nervous.
She used to go to therapy all the time, but I’m not sure she ever thought she would again.
When Dr. Von told me she would be joining us today, I thought I was hallucinating again.
Ashia seemed so against talking to her in any capacity that it truly shocked me.
I also wanted to ask if Ashia knew she would be participating, but when my glowing wife walked in the door with that fabric draped over her arm, that quickly answered my question.
“Should we get started?” Dr. Von asks a little too cheerfully to be her normal tone, clearly taking my warning a little too far. I told her not to be a complete bitch to my wife or I’d throw her out, but I didn’t tell her to act like a Dr. Phil variant, either.
“As long as Damien’s still okay with me being here for it.” Ashia looks up at me curiously with those big brown eyes, like I would ever shoo her away.
“Of course I am.” I grin down at her, even though I’m nervous as hell.
I don't want her to do something that might make her uncomfortable, and a part of me wants to fold her blanket in half, then lay it over her belly once again—just to add another layer of protection. Ashia’s worry of keeping our baby girl’s mind innocent matters right now more than ever.
We’re less than two weeks away from the start of her third trimester, and I want to make sure she feels as protected and loved as possible.
“Okay, great. So, why don’t we start small?
” Dr. Von laces her fingers on top of her desk.
“How have you been feeling?” she asks sincerely, but curiously, like for the first time since we’ve met, she doesn’t already know the answer.
That seems like a loaded question to be considered small, but I suppose it’s on track for her usual.
“Better,” I say truthfully.
“Are you still waking up at night?”
“Yeah, at least once.”
“Well, that could be my fault, too,” Ashia chuckles nervously.
“Sometimes I wake up because the baby’s moving, and then he gets up because I’m up.
It’s a whole thing. I’ve offered to put another pillow or something between us to keep that from happening, but he didn't like that idea,” she says in a much more subtle tone than I did.
She thought it was funny when I threatened to gut any pocket of fluff that snaked it way between us; I meant it wholeheartedly.
“Would you say that’s an accurate statement?” Dr. Von directs at me.
“Sometimes, but that's only occasionally. It doesn’t bother me. I like to be up when she is.” I squeeze Ashia’s hand just a little for reassurance, telling her that she is in no way bothering me at night.
Everything I’ve read and all of the advice from my cousins told me she would start to get uncomfortable around this time.
So, I was fully prepared for that. What I wasn’t prepared for was everything else we’ve dealt with.
Dr. Von tilts her head in contemplation, probably coming up with scenarios in her head.
“Do you think that you’re more worried when she wakes up versus when you wake up on your own?”
My stomach flutters in an anxious way, and I catch myself grazing my thumb over Ashia’s stomach for comfort. Nerves rattle just under my skin, waiting for the demons to try and crawl their way out.
“Yes,” I admit softly.
“Okay, let’s explore that.” She opens her notepad and picks up her pen. “Why do you think that is?”
Ashia squeezes my hand back, giving me the small burst of confidence I need to keep talking.
“I just worry that something’s wrong.”
“With her or the baby, as if something is medically wrong? Or that something is happening to them? Think of where your mind first goes when you wake up.”
Flashes of white and red dart across my mind, then swallow me whole. Shattered glass rings through my ears, reminding me of a sound I wasn’t sure I even heard the first time.
“That something is happening to them…”
Dr. Von writes something down, then glances back up at me. Her movements are lazy, but I can see the seriousness in her gaze.
“Has this gotten any worse since you rescued Elizabeth?”
Absolutely it has, but I don’t say that right away.
Elizabeth had a hard time adjusting at first, but she’s been better the past few days.
She still isn’t speaking, even though Victoria swears she talks.
When she’s not attached to Victoria’s hip, she’s trying to get Ashia or Zeke’s attention.
It still makes me feel like shit. When she wakes up at night and cries, I think that triggers Ashia, which then rattles me, and then the memories creep in.
“Yes.” I notice the sympathetic look in Dr. Von’s eyes, willing me to keep talking. “I’m afraid the Society will come for her and Victoria. And I know they won’t spare anyone if they do.”
Images burst through like strobe lights, moving so quickly that I barely register them. There’s innocent crimson on the walls. Strands of hair lay lazily in the air. Imaginary screams call out as only whispers over my eardrums.
“Right then, where did your mind go?” Her voice cuts through like a knife.
“All of it…” I look down, unable to stare at her any longer. My gaze locks onto my wife and I’s entangled hands instead. I can feel her staring at me, too, willing to take whatever comes out of my mouth and carve it into stone.
“What’s the very first thing?” Dr. Von insists again.
“Red…”
“The children?” she asks, but it’s more like a demand, forcing me to clarify.
“Yes,” I spit out. “Then that woman…their mom…”
There’s a brief moment of silence. She doesn’t write anything or shuffle her notepad. Ashia doesn’t make a single noise, like she’s holding her breath and waiting for me to speak again. Dr. Von sighs and puts her pen down before addressing me again.
“Are you afraid that they’ll kill Ashia or take her?”
My throat tightens.
“I’m not sure…” I choke out, barely able to make a sound.
“Okay. Well, let me ask a different question, then. Do you feel this will happen because of what you went through, or because you believe in karma and retaliation?”
“I know what they’re capable of,” I force out, and snap my head back up to her, meeting her with a hardened stare. “They’re ruthless and smart—so trained and prepared. You don’t cross them without consequences.”
There are consequences for our actions, and it seems that you have gone long enough without repercussions.
DeLuca’s voice echoes through my head, reminding me of what happens when you disobey them.
I squeeze Ashia’s hand tighter, needing to hold onto the one person that keeps me sane.
She wraps one of her arms around mine and flattens my hand on her belly, just underneath her own.
Our baby rolls and kicks under my palm, sending calming waves through my limb.
“It’s okay to say it out loud, Damien. Look at her and tell her how you’re feeling,” Dr. Von instructs, so I lift my gaze to meet my wife’s. Her golden eyes are warmer under this light. They’re fire. It’s not raging right now, though—it’s calm, flickering gently to provide warmth, not destruction.
“I’m scared… I’m scared of all of it,” I admit quietly, nervous that she’ll think of me as less of a man.
“I’m afraid that I can’t protect you if they decide to come for them.
I’m terrified of what they’d do to you if they did.
I’m horrified by the thought of you having to live through the pain that I did…
or the pain that I caused. I’m scared that I’ll feel it again, too…
” She squeezes my arm, settling my shaking limb.
“You shouldn’t have to pay for my sins anymore… ”
“You shouldn’t have had to pay for theirs either, baby,” Ashia says so softly, but so surely.
There’s conviction in her words, like not once did she ever believe I deserved what happened to me.
All of the pain I’ve caused over the years—all of the lives I’ve taken—none of it matters to her.
She’s used her divinity to deem me as righteous, and her faith in that is unwavering.
“Ashia makes a very good point,” Dr. Von chimes in again.
“You value innocence so deeply, Damien. Purity is something that you believe in, and for years, you’ve done what you can to protect it.
You believe in right and wrong, yet you don’t give yourself the same leeway as you would to those that work beside you.
There is something in the mental health world that we call Superhero Syndrome, and while there are some mild approaches for everyday civilians, your case is certainly different.
You’ve taken this compulsion and nursed it into something very real.
So much so, that you’ve based your entire life upon it.
I would like to explore that from the beginning, and now that Ashia is here for support, I believe it’s time to talk about Emma. ”
My stomach falls to my feet, and I cut my eyes over at her.
“I don’t want to talk about my sister.”
“Why not?” she asks rather quickly, I’m guessing to throw me off even more. “From your mother’s perspective, you two were very close. Is it because it hurts too much? Do you miss her? Or is it because you feel guilty for her death?”
“All of it…”
“Explain that to us. Why do you feel so much guilt when you think of her?”