Maya (Book #3)

Chapter 25

The next day, I felt insecure. When danger had come so close to harming me yesterday, I fell apart at the seams. I wasn't going to let that happen again. I needed to be physically and mentally strong, and I had no clue how to do that. I ran to the end of the hall and knocked on the door, to talk to one of the strongest people I knew.

"It's Maya!" I called out, knowing he would be awake. I knocked on the door again for good measure.

 He yanked the door open and glared at me, with a smile obvious on his face.

"What're you doing in this corner of the house, little girl?" he asked as if he were a villain in a cheesy movie. I straightened up my posture and stood tall as I always did when he was around.

"I need your help!" I announced, bobbing my head to show him it was serious.

"Oh yeah?" he asked as if it was a joke. I pushed on his chest trying to knock him over and he laughed.

"I mean it! You have to help me!" I warned, giving him a serious look. 

"Alright," he finally agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He took a step back to let me into his room and I smiled, a little bit excited.

I took a hesitant step in, as if there was going to be a dragon chained to the wall, and then walked further in when I saw that it looked like a normal room.

It was mostly black, which didn't surprise me, as his wardrobe consisted entirely of the same color. There was also a wall that had been plastered over with a wallpaper image of a forest. You could see the texture of the leaves on the dark green trees like you were present there. There were also a couple of plants around the room which surprised me, and many posters of popular movies above his bed. I only recognized The Godfather, Jaws, and Ender's Game. There was also a red door across from where we stood, which I presumed led to his bathroom.

His bed was massive and central to the room. As we walked in, I wanted to jump on it like I did with Dominic's, but I could see him getting mad about it.

He closed the door behind us, and I turned to face him. He leaned against a wall and watched me with a smile. I thought offhandedly that he sort of resembled a fox with his arched brows and tracking eyes.

"Why do you think you're so intimidating?" I asked fractiously, taking a seat on his bed nervously. He didn't complain about it, which made me relax.

"Why are you so intimidated by me?" he countered, raising an eyebrow. I knew I could be honest with him, so I considered my answer and then spoke.

"You look like a threat. You're tall and have muscles and your eyes are kind of scary. The color is so blue that it's almost white and it feels very piercing. I worry that you know everything I'm thinking before I've even shared it. And you smirk a lot." I explained, laughing at my own description. He laughed too and nodded appreciatively.

"I think I sound pretty cool," he said smugly, nodding his head.

"I guess so," I answered, rolling my eyes. "Not as cool as me though."

"Is that so?" he asked, ignoring my answer as if it were inconsequential. I was sad I hadn't seen him in a while. Sometimes I missed our banter. I decided since we were being honest, I could continue.

"Do you avoid me sometimes?" I asked, looking down at my hands and playing with a ring Charlotte had bought for me. I twisted it back and forth, hoping I appeared as if I didn't care about the answer. He let out a sharp breath like my question was a punch to his stomach. 

I looked up at him and his lips puffed out just a little bit as he faced at the wall. It seemed like he was trying not to cry. When he turned to face me again, I realized I was wrong. His face looked the same as it always did.

"Maybe," he replied, pursing his lips.

"Why... do you think you do that?" I asked, hoping he would offer me the same honesty I had given him.

"You remind me of her," he said, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes became glassy now and I knew that he was trying not to cry. Without thinking, I launched myself off his bed and across the room to wrap him in a hug. I twisted my arms around him and squeezed as tightly as I could. He hugged me back like he needed it.

I grabbed his hand when he let go and pulled us over to the bed. I pushed him down to sit and sat beside him, wiggling to get comfortable.

"What was she like?" I asked, trying to show him that what he was feeling was okay. I realized that when people had lost members of their family or important people in their lives, sometimes all they needed was to be able to share some of the good memories that they had.

He looked down as if he was disassociating, but I gave him a minute to organize his thoughts. It was okay if he couldn't be here right now, mentally. He leaned back on his bed and bent his arms under his head, before nodding to the spot beside him. I leaned back against the headboard and widened my eyes, telling him it was alright to speak.

"She was so cute," he said quietly. "She was an angel from the moment I came here. She was with Charlotte and Caleb before Brooklyn and Dominic and I came along. I was about 7 and she was just a little girl. Caleb was little too, but he was more of a punk. He liked to play practical jokes and was very independent for a kid."

I giggled at that, picturing little Caleb with cherubic cheeks and his ocean blue eyes. I bet they didn't even care about his mischief when he gave his charming smile.

"So cute," I murmured. Damon chuckled at the thought and then kept speaking.

"Bella was the opposite. She followed me around like I was her hero, and I think that helped me become one. I protected her from people on the playground who bullied her, and she told me everything. Sometimes when she spoke, Charlotte and my dad wouldn't even understand, but I could." He said this last part proudly, giving a look of supreme confidence.

"I protected her from everything, and then, she died. It was sudden and terrifying. I was there." He told me, looking into my eyes. There was a suffering in them that I couldn't comprehend. I held his gaze, trying to convey comfort. He went on.

"It was just her and me and my dad. We felt so guilty. We could have stopped it." 

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A/N: Poor Damon and his survivor's guilt. We all feel guilty about things in our lives that are out of our hands. I hope he can be freed from some of his guilt soon. 

Side note: This story is about to get a whole lot more intense. Get ready :)