by Regan Ure
I wondered if his room smelled like him. I shook my head to dislodge the inappropriate thoughts about Damien that were beginning to develop in my mind. I glanced further down the hall and saw another door.
"What's down there?" I asked, pointing down the hallway I had yet to explore.
"Storage room, nothing important," he explained vaguely, but I saw the sadness in his eyes.
He was lying, but I let it slide for the moment.
The tour of the house took over an hour, and by the end of it I had asked Damien to draw me a map. He laughed and told me I would get used to it. I didn't agree. I'd lost count of the number of bedrooms and bathrooms the house had. There was a game lounge, a formal lounge, an informal lounge and another lounge (I couldn't remember what they used it for.) At least I could find the most important rooms in the house: my bedroom and the kitchen.
The outside was stunning. There was a massive garden with beautiful flowers which had a path to another building, the pool house, which housed an Olympic-size swimming pool. It was heated. The last time I'd swum was before my dad had died—I'd just gotten the hang of swimming back then. I stayed a safe distance away from the pool. I wasn't sure if I could still swim. Maybe swimming was the same as riding a bicycle: once you learned how to, you never forgot.
"Can you swim?" Damien asked, watching me look at the water with a little fear in my eyes.
"I used to be able to swim, but I'm not sure if I still can," I revealed to him, my eyes still glued to the sparkling blue water.
"I'll help you," he offered as he walked me out of the poolroom.
"I know you want to help me, but I don't want to take up all of your time," I told him. I couldn't monopolize him anymore; he had to have a life of his own. Besides, I'd promised myself that I would start to try and become more independent, even if it meant I had to go into therapy.
He stopped and I turned to face him.
"I want to help you," he stated firmly with his hands in his pockets.
I changed the subject by asking some questions about the garden.
By the end of the tour I was exhausted as I opened the door to my room. The bed looked so inviting.
"Are you going to lie down?” Damien asked when he followed me into the room.
"Yeah, I'm a little tired," I admitted. "I think I overdid it today."
"Are you hungry?" he asked, checking his watch. "It's lunchtime."
"A little," I admitted. My stomach began to grumble slightly at the mention of lunchtime.
"I'll bring you up something to eat," he offered.
"Thank you," I said.
"I won't be long," he assured me before he turned and left.
I climbed onto the massive bed and pulled the blanket over me as I lay down. My room was so big compared to what I was used to and I felt a little lost and out of place.
Damien returned twenty minutes later with a tray for me. He set it down on the side table next to my bed.
"Sorry, my mom went a little overboard," he warned when I glanced at the amount of food that he'd brought me.
There was a sandwich and a side salad. There was a packet of crisps and a bowl of some sort of dessert. On closer inspection it looked like chocolate mousse. There was a bottle of water and a glass of juice as well.
"There is no way I'm going to be able to eat all of that," I warned.
"Eat what you want and then I'll take back the rest," he offered.
"Thanks," I said as I took the one half of the sandwich and took a bite.
"Because we've been off for a while, my mom went past our school and picked up our homework so we can try catch up before school on Monday," he told me.
I nodded my agreement as I finished chewing the bit of my sandwich.
"Is there a lot?" I asked once I swallowed the mouthful.
"Yes." He grimaced. "It's probably going to take us most of the weekend to work through it."
"Do you want to start now?" I asked, feeling a little better now that I had some food in my stomach.
"Aren't you tired?" he asked.
"I'm feeling a little better now that I've eaten something," I answered. I pushed the blanket off myself and slid out of the bed.
"Okay," he said. "You make yourself comfortable at the desk and I'll go and get the homework and our books."
It was only when I sat down at the desk that I wondered how his mom had gotten my books. He returned a short while later carrying them, and sat them down on the table.
"How did your mom get my books?" I asked.
"I think she organized it with the principal. They got them from your locker."
I couldn't help but think about the books in my schoolbag that I'd left in the flat. That specific thought brought back the memories of the attack that I'd been trying to forget.
"What about my books at the flat?" I whispered. I knew it wasn't a big deal, but I couldn't help but ask.
Damien regarded me for a moment.
"For any of the books that we didn't find in your locker, my mom got new books for you," he answered softly. I gave him a nod and focused my attention onto the books in front of me.
"The cops will be busy with the apartment for a few more days and then I can go around and get some of your stuff if you want me to," he offered.
I nearly started to laugh hysterically, because I didn't have a lot of stuff. The only valuable thing that I had in the apartment was the only photo I still had of my dad.
"Okay," I said with a shrug. "Let's get started, it looks like it is going to take us forever."
I had successfully steered the conversation into another direction. He pulled up a seat next to me and we started to get stuck in the homework we'd missed. Somewhat luckily it was my left arm that had been broken, because I was right handed. It would be hard trying to do schoolwork if I couldn't even write.
I tried my hardest to concentrate on the homework we had to get done, but it was so difficult when Damien was sitting so close to me. The slightest touches, like his arm touching mine, or his knee brushing against mine, kept me hyperaware of his being next to me.
After a couple of hours I couldn't take it anymore. I closed my book and dropped my head into my hands.
"I can't do any more," I moaned. I felt a headache start up and I rubbed my forehead to ease the slight pounding in my head.
"Okay," he said as he stretched his arms above his head. The action hitched his shirt up and I got a peek at his taut stomach muscles.
I stood up and averted my eyes from him. It was getting harder and harder to be around him. I heard a phone start to ring and he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
"Hi…I can't, maybe sometime next week," he said after a moment. His eyes flickered to mine and I turned to busy myself with the stuff I had yet to pack away.
Thoughts of who was on the phone began to gnaw at me while he continued his phone call. I couldn't help but wonder if it was his girl of the week that was trying to meet up with him. I felt jealousy stir within me. I took my bag of clothes from the hospital to the walk-in closet so I didn't have to hear any more of his conversation. To think he was on the phone with another girl hurt—I knew I had no right to feel that way, but I couldn't help it.
I folded the clean clothes from my bag as best as I could, considering my one arm was in a cast, and put them away in my cupboard. The rest of the clothes I took to my bathroom to put in the wash basket. Damien was still on the phone when I passed him on my way to my bathroom.
"I'll call you later," he whispered into the phone as he watched me walk into the bathroom.
It was times like this that I wasn't sure how I was going to stay just friends with Damien. If I couldn't stand to listen to him talk to a girl over the phone, how on earth was I going to handle seeing him with a girl? I dumped the dirty clothes into the wash basket.
"Sorry about that," Damien said from the doorway.
"It's fine," I said casually. I couldn't let him see how much it affected me.
; "I'm just going to leave the books and stuff on your desk so that we can pick up where we left off tomorrow," he told me.
"Sure."
An awkward silence descended and then I turned to him while I rubbed my forehead.
"I'm a little tired, I think I'm going to try and have a lie down," I lied to him. I wasn't really tired, but just to get some space from him I would lie down on my bed and pretend to nap.
"Sure, no problem," he replied. He studied me for a few moments before he turned and left.
I let out a deep sigh when I walked back into my room. I took a sip of orange juice and then I climbed onto my bed and pulled the blanket over me.
How on earth was I going to live with Damien and be able to keep him at a distance? How was I going to avoid getting hurt when I saw him with different girls? It was going to be impossible. I was screwed either way. If we kept things purely platonic between us, I'd get hurt watching him with other girls and, if I let things happen between us, he'd hurt me when he finished with me and moved onto another girl. I was going to get hurt irrespective of which choice I made.
A little later I was still lost in my thoughts when I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.
"How is she?" I heard Damien ask softly.
"She's sleeping," Amy replied, and I heard the distinct click of the door closing.
I didn't know what I was going to do, because I couldn't hide in my room forever. At some point I would have to get up and face my problems.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Haven
The first night in my new home, I woke up in the middle of the night screaming. My whole body shook with fear as the door to my bedroom flew open.
"It's okay,” a voice soothed, and strong arms held me gently to a firm chest. It was still dark and frightening in my room with only some light from my open doorway filtering in.
Still half asleep and with the fear of my nightmare still fresh in my mind, I began to struggle against the arms holding me.
"It's me, Haven," Damien said, trying to get me to calm down. He kept me firmly in his arms, refusing to let go.
Relief flooded through me at the realization that it was him holding me. Feeling safe, I slumped against his chest. My body was shaking. He held and soothed me for a while before I began to calm down.
"I'm sorry," I said. I realized he didn't have a shirt on and that I was being held against his bare chest. I pulled away from him, trying to stop my hands from shaking. His strong and warm hands covered mine and he held them gently. I didn't know if it was the warmth from his hands or the aftereffects of the nightmare wearing off that stopped my hands from shaking.
"You don't have to be sorry," he said softly. "It was just a nightmare."
"It felt so real," I whispered, sorting through the horrors of what I'd just dreamed. Grant had cornered me in my new bedroom. This time he'd used a gun to kill me. I'd tried to scream for help but no one had come. I could still hear the gunshot ringing in my ears.
"Do you want me to stay with you?" he asked.
I hesitated.
"I'll sleep on the couch," he clarified.
I knew I should have been strong and told him no, but I couldn't. I was so scared and he made me feel safe. I needed to feel safe.
"Please," I whispered, my voice still hoarse from all the screaming.
He reached for the blanket at the bottom of my bed and walked over to one of the sofas. I felt bad because it was only a two-seater sofa and Damien was tall. There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight if he slept there.
“The sofa is too small. You can sleep in my bed," I quietly offered.
He stood watching me for a moment, still holding the blanket in his hand.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
I nodded.
He was doing me a favor by staying the night in my room to ease my fears; the least I could do was let him sleep in my bed so that he could get some sleep.
I lay back down and pulled the bed cover to my chin as he walked over to the other side of the bed with the blanket. Instead of pulling back the bed cover, he climbed on top and spread the blanket over him. Restless, I tossed and turned for a while before I felt Damien reach for my hand in the darkness and hold it in his.
That small gesture was enough to settle me down and I began to relax. Having him sleeping in my bed might help me sleep for the night, but it was only going to make my feelings for him deepen, and it would only bring me heartbreak.
We spent the rest of the weekend catching up on our schoolwork. Damien didn't go out the whole weekend—he spent most of it with me showing me things, like how to use my new laptop and my new phone. I was starting to get the hang of it.
He even came with us when his mom took me shopping for some clothes and other things. No guy liked to go shopping, so I assumed it was to make me feel safer. I tried to keep her from going overboard with the shopping, but she was on a mission so I let her have free reign. It seemed to make her happy. Damien, like a typical guy, moaned and groaned the entire time, muttering about how shopping was as boring as watching paint dry.
It was hard not to like his parents. They were such kind and loving people and after all they'd done for me I was very grateful.
After the nightmares returned the following night, Damien started to sleep in my bed every night. His presence kept the nightmares away. I wasn’t sure what why I was having nightmares. Maybe it was the stress of trying to fit in. I hoped that after I settled down in my new home the nightmares would stop, and then I could keep Damien at a safe distance.
It was nearly impossible to keep my feelings for him platonic when he slept in my bed half naked every night holding my hand. It was hard to believe that the kind and thoughtful person that slept in my bed every night to keep my nightmares away was the same person who couldn't commit and was trying to sleep his way through all the senior girls at our school.
Steven had kept in touch with the cops but there had been no new developments. They were still looking for Grant. As much as I wanted to stay home and keep hidden until the cops caught Grant, I couldn't stop living my life because of him. I needed to go to school, I had to pick up the pieces to my life, despite my fear.
The first day back at school was nerve-wracking. From the moment Damien drove us to school and everyone watched me get out of his car, I'd had everyone's attention. I wanted to fade into the background like I'd been doing for the last seven years, but that was impossible when I was around Damien.
There were plenty of rumors going around the school about what had happened to me, and why I was living with Damien. Chris had given me a rundown of all of them at lunchtime. Some of them were ridiculous.
The most ridiculous was that I'd been orphaned, which I supposed was technically true, but then I'd been involved in an accident and somehow it had been discovered that I was the long-lost sister given away by Damien's mom when she had been a teen. Now I'd been reunited with my family, and Damien was my brother.
It was the type of stuff soap operas were based on.
Damien had invited me to join him for lunch, but I'd declined. I was trying to put some space between us. Besides, I'd had enough of the glares for all the jealous girls trying to audition to be his girl of the week. Thankfully for my fragile heart, I hadn't seen him with any girls—yet. I knew it was only a matter of time, so I had to keep my distance from him so that when he finally went back to his usual self it wouldn't hurt too much.
I depended on him too much and I needed to change that; but, like the saying goes, Rome wasn't built in a day, and I couldn't expect to change overnight. I got a few sympathetic looks from my teachers, but I tried to ignore them. I hated that they knew the truth about what had happened to me. It made me feel vulnerable.
By the end of the day I was physically and emotionally tired. In the passenger seat of Damien's car I slumped backward and rubbed my forehead. The ride was quiet but I could see Damien's eyes glance my way a coupl
e of times on the way home.
I kept my eyes closed, trying to fight the headache I felt pounding in my head.
"What the fuck?" I heard Damien say suddenly, and then his hand was on mine.
"Keep your eyes closed," he instructed fiercely. I kept my eyes closed but sat up straight as the car stopped.
"What's wrong?" I asked as I began to panic.
What could have happened at the house that was so bad he didn't want me to see?
"Keep your eyes closed," he reminded me before I heard his door slam shut.
Moments later, I heard the passenger door open and he helped me out the door.
The fear in me made me open my eyes slowly while he tried to steer me to the front door past the garage doors.
Oh. My. God.
The scene in front of me made me fall to my knees.
Damien tried to pull me up, but I pushed him away, my eyes glued to the horrific scene in front of me. It was too late, I'd seen it and there was no way to erase the heart-stopping sight.
"I told you not to look," he scolded softly as he bent down to put a protective arm around my shoulders.
The word "Whore" was painted in red on the white garage door. I knew who was responsible. Grant had called me a whore when he'd first seen me with Damien.
I began to shake when the realization set in that Grant knew where I was. It was only when I took a closer look that I realized that what I initially had thought was red paint was in fact blood.
"Oh my God," I whispered when I spotted the source of the blood. Lying on its side was a dead cat that had been gutted, its insides spilled out onto the brick pavement.
I felt my stomach heave at the sight and I rushed to the bushes just by the doorway before I lost the contents of my stomach. Bent over in the bushes, with my head pounding and my hands clutching the grass, Damien knelt beside me. I closed my eyes again while I heaved again, he held my hair away from my face.
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and sat back for a moment. I heard the echo of my heartbeat echoing in my ears as the fear took hold of me. Suddenly I started to feel dizzy.
"I've got you," Damien whispered into my ear when he picked me up and walked me into the house.