Married To The Devil

Chapter Ten

D e v i l' s P a s t

It's ridiculous how a person could shift moods in the spare of a second. One minute they're as tranquil as the sea and the second they're just this furious ball of fire. At least that was what I expected of a person like Damon to be when I'd asked him about Carlos, knowing that, from previous occurances, that topic was touchy to him.

Instead, Damon's face dropped dramatically and what met my request was a cold silence I wasn't expecting. I expected that maybe his eyes would turn a raging color, darkening a shade or two, and he would yell at me, telling me not to cross my line. But he only loosened his grip on my hands and sat straight at the edge of the bed, shifting as far away from me as he could.

I straightened up in my turn, making sure to keep quite a good distance between us. A shiver wracked my body as I watched Damon's expression progressively turn icely stoic then scathingly furious then agonizingly hurt. It was obvious that whoever Carlos was to Damon, he must have been someone exclusively precious.

After what felt like hours, which were merely seconds actually, I felt like I couldn't take the silence anymore. I couldn't take watching Damon have an inner war with himself anymore. I would've preferred it if he had thrown a tantrum, yelling and breaking things. I would've tolerated it better if he just did more than sat there in bitter silence. I was simply not used to his silence.

Eventually standing up, I decided to leave. I was not going to pressure him into telling me about Carlos neither was I planning on asking him why he went silent like that. But as I strutted a few steps away from him, Damon's voice finally broke the cold silence hanging heavily in the air.

"He was my older brother," Damon stated mournfully. "But he was more than just that. He was my best friend and he was the hand that always pulled me out of trouble."

I paused and turned around. Damon's back was to me now but I could clearly see how his hands tightly fisted the creme colored bed sheets, wrinkling the satin material beneath and around his palms. I didn't dare say a word for maybe that was the best I could get out of Damon and if I said a word, he would shut me out completely.

"You know, Clara?" his question was obviously rhetorical, "I was kinda turning into this drug addict back in high school until Carlos found out and did all his might to stop me. My stubborness never fazed him and he hadn't failed to stop me. If it wasn't for him, Clara, I would've been thrown into rehab or dead by now."

For some reason, the idea of Damon being dead instead of with me made my heart ache miserably. I was the kind that would get easily attached to people (another reason I preferred being an introvert back when I was single) so it scared me how attached I might be getting to Damon. Especially Damon. I now discovered that his hostile attitude towards me was doing me more good than bad.

"He was like a life line to me." Damon continued. "A thread of sanity. You name it. He always stood up between my father and I since we never really got along. My father used to prefer Carlos over me and I understood that because the only person I would admit to be any better than I was would be Carlos. He was diplomatic, sincere and easy-going. Everything I wasn't. But I was never jealous of him. I cherished him because he, unlike my dad, always understood me and never once made me feel underestimated. He believed in me despite my stubborn and reckless attitude sometimes."

"He was my father's favorite until one day he brought this red head home. Scarlet! You can see were her name came from, can't you?" Another rhetorical question. But if I was planning to respond by anything, it wouldn't be to that particular question. It would be another question, the same one I asked Xavier back in California. The one that went along the lines of why me?! I have no idea if I should be satisfied or hurt that I sort of finally knew the answer to that one.