Chapter 31
Damien
Three Days Later
‘Hello’ - Evanescence
Each breath cuts like a razor blade. Every time I inhale, it feels like a lie—as if I’m not really breathing.
My lungs radiate with a sharp pain, and they’re never full.
Every time they stretch, it hurts even worse, and I know my body is starting to give out on me.
There’s a taste on my tongue that has a hint of blood, and something that has a chemical sting.
They’ve started to inject me with what I believe is adrenaline.
Moments after they stick me, I’m charged up and ready to take on the world.
Every hit they give me, I barely feel. For about ten minutes, I’m ready to kill them all.
All of the damage I’ve endured in my time here doesn’t hold me back in that little bit of time, and if they would unlock my restraints, I could show them what I can really do.
But they don’t.
They just shoot me up and leave me restricted so that I feel the crash even harder.
I’ve never felt this type of wading. My muscles feel like static, and my body feels heavy.
There’s a cool mist that prickles over my skin.
It’s eerie, like I’m already half-dead and my mind hasn’t realized it.
I keep waiting for the moment they come back in, like I’m expecting the reaper.
The longer I stay in this state, the further my mind slips, and I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts anymore.
I haven’t gone back out, and it’s probably a good thing, because I might just let them kill me. If I didn’t deserve to die before, I certainly do now. All of the humiliation and torment they’ve put me through is nothing compared to what I should receive.
My father is dead.
I wished for his death above my wife’s, and I’ve never felt so disgusted with myself.
What kind of son am I? I knew they were going to kill one of them.
DeLuca is clearly a woman of her word, and even though she didn’t give me a choice, I threw my father’s name to the front lines without hesitation.
I will always pick Ashia above anyone else.
That doesn’t make me a good son, though. It doesn’t make me a good man.
My father spent years searching for them. He used every resource he had to bring them down, and it all meant nothing. None of it matters anymore, because they were his end. They won. All because of me—because of my mistakes and my weaknesses. I failed him.
I wonder what he would say if he saw me now.
He would be ashamed to hear me beg for their lives the way that I did, or to see me sob over him when I thought no one was watching.
My chest feels hollow. Will my mother ever be able to look at me again?
I’m sure she’s devastated by his death. My father was quite literally her lifeline—especially after Emma died.
There’s no chance left for me and my family.
None of them will ever be able to see me the same way again.
How will I be able to look at any of my aunts or uncles in the eyes?
Oh my God, how can I ever speak to Nana again?
Darkness falls around me, and I feel it as it seeps into my skin.
The repercussions for my crimes have come to claim me. I try to let them.
The aftereffects from the adrenaline are lingering, and as hard as I try, I can’t seem to give in to it.
I want to slip into the darkness and allow the anguish to consume my last breath.
More than anything, I want dive into the blackened sea and sink as far as gravity will let me.
I’ll find Ashia there. That’s the only time I hear her.
Her perfect voice swims through the oceans to reach me, and I’d dive a thousand times over just to hear a whisper.
I’m almost there. If I slip just a little further—a little deeper—maybe I could even feel her.
It's so cold that my body aches with every tremor. If I don’t move at all, I can feel myself submerging even further, but the twitches and convulsions make it difficult.
The drugs and torture are forcing my body to move on its own, against my will.
If it wasn’t so painful and distracting, I could do this.
I could clear my thoughts long enough. My mind needs to be still.
She won’t come to me through all of the guilt and the pain.
Her divinity deserves only the purest of spaces, and my mind is unfortunately not that place.
The door creaks open, reminding me that this place is just as unworthy. Small steps shuffle against the floor, like someone is quietly making their way inside. They stop just before me, but I don’t have the strength to look at the intruder.
“Damien?” Her voice calls to me It’s faint and flat, but it’s there. She’s here. She shouldn’t be… I draw in a gasp so fierce that I might gag on it, and I groan in pain as I cough it back up.
“Ashia…” I manage to pick up my heavy head, but it immediately flops backward. My mouth hangs open, pulling apart from how dry my lips are, and I fight for air. “You shouldn’t be here…” I choke out. A spider-like feeling crawls along the column of my neck, and I shiver at the sensation.
Then, a subtle warmth envelops me. Not in any particular place like her small form normally would, but it’s like she covered me with a thin fabric. As I sway from side to side, I don’t feel anything—nothing but the veil of heat and the pins and needles that wrack my body.
“I’m right here, baby,” she whispers eerily.
“It’s okay now. I’m going to take you home.
” I hear her again, but her voice comes out scattered, almost like a mist in the wind.
She’s scared. She’s so scared… I shake my head, causing it to fall forward another time and pull the muscles in my shoulders and back, eliciting a groan from my lips.
“You have to go, baby, please…” I plead.
She shushes me softly, and my breath hitches when I feel her touch on my face.
It comes alive, like all of the blood has rushed to my cheeks, and I even feel them heat up.
I long to feel her palms against my skin.
The demons in my head softly start to retreat, but I can feel them linger.
I need more—more touches, more warmth, more time.
“Come home with me, Damien. Please?” she begs through a whimper, and a soft hum pricks my forehead, as if her tear had just landed there.
“Ashia… I won’t make it,” I sob out, knowing I don’t even have the strength to open my eyes. Even without her being as pregnant as she is, she could never carry my weight out of here, and I won’t risk her getting killed just to save my pathetic life.
“Damien… We need you. I need you to come home now,” she cries, and I can hear it bounce off the walls.
My heart rips in two, and I yell as I try to move.
Every inch of muscle tears and my skin rips against the restraints, but in a matter of moments, my strength is spent.
All of the fight I have vanishes, and now not only have I damned myself, but I’ve practically signed Ashia’s death warrant. All because I’m not strong enough.
Panic punches me in the gut, and I force my head back and forth. The room continues to sway with my disorientation. She’ll never leave me. They’ll find her trying to help me, and then they’ll either end her life, or subject her to the same pain as me.
Oh, God…
“Run, Ashia…” I choke out.
“I’m not leaving you…”
“Please…” I gasp and cough again, desperate to get the words out.
Tears stream down my face, and the saltiness quickly dries against my cheeks.
“Please, little wolf… Run. Fucking run as far away as you can. Take our baby somewhere they can’t reach you.
Fuck, baby, please!” I finally manage to tear my eyes open, only to be met with nothing but the dark, stone walls, and the dirt flickering through the air.
My chest and throat twist, and once again, I feel the void in my heart. She was never here. I could feel her, barely, but she was fucking here. She was right fucking here. Sobs wrack my already-agonizing body, and I don’t care if they hear me. I don’t care about anything anymore.
I just want my wife.
“Dang, Bubba. You’re a mess, you know that?”
I force my head up once again to connect with eyes that mirror my own.
The colors are brighter. Each wavering blue is a sign of hope and anticipation, one that will never be fulfilled.
They’re the globes I search for every time I look at my reflection, or stare at our mother, but I can never find them.
Not until right now.
“Emma?”
She’s upright against the stone wall with her arms crossed over her chest, standing no taller than she did the day she died.
Those damn silicone bracelets still cover her wrists, and she has that one small braid in her hair.
I remember when she had me hold them during her soccer games, and she made me promise to keep them in order.
‘They were cooler that way,’ she used to say.
“They are cooler that way, and you know it.” She bobs her head and stands straighter, then walks over to me. “What are you doing here, Bubba? This place is gross.” Her lip curls in a snarl, and she kicks her foot out to knock some of the dust around.
As another tear rolls down my face, I just shake my head.
“I don’t want to be here…”
“Ugh! Is this Dad’s training again? He’s always making you do the worst stuff!
” She sits on the floor and crosses her legs, then leans back on her palms, like we’re just out on the field or sitting down for lunch.
I let my head fall as well, so I can still look at her, and the muscles in my neck ease up some.
But then, my heart drops to the floor and melts in the shape of the stones. Doesn’t she know already? Wouldn’t he be there with her? I was so sure that when my father’s time came, that she would be there waiting for him. Why didn’t that happen?
“Emma—”