Tell Me The Truth | D.D.

Chapter Eight

My eyes flew open as the shaking stopped. I got up and swung my legs to the side of the bed. It felt like someone was compressing my lungs, making my whole body shake. I didn't realize till Damiano crouched down to be level with that I was sobbing.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, shhhhh, I'm right here," he said, hesitantly putting his arms around me. I pulled him close and buried my head into his chest. He rubbed soothing circles into my back. I clung to him until my sobs started to quiet, though my tears were still slipping down my face.

I think Damaino felt my resolve because he pulled back a little and asked, "Do you want something to eat?" I took a deep breath, "Not really." He nodded, "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

I knew that I couldn't hide this from him anymore, not after what he just saw. I couldn't blow it off as just a nightmare. He knew me too well. I also felt like I owe it to him to at least tell him what kind of person I am.

The last reason is that I don't want to live with this painful secret anymore, not by myself anyway. It was eating me alive, and I didn't know how to escape it. I ran from my problems before, but I finally realized if I wanted a new life, I had to deal with at least some of the demons of my past.

"Actually, I do," I said, trying to make my voice even. I let go of his shirt and pushed myself up against the wall behind my bed. Damiano stayed where he was giving me his attention.

"Let's start from the beginning," I said, pushing my hair to one side. "I found out I was pregnant from a one night stand, a little over a year ago," I said, looking at Damiano. He kept his face composed and nodded, encouraging me to go on. "I was about three months when I told my dad, and let's just say he didn't take it well. So, my mom took me to the beach to cheer me up," I said, closing my eyes. "It was too late by the time the storm came. We were knocked into a bunch of rocks, and my memory got foggy around there," I said, shaking my head and opening my eyes.

"When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Apparently, a boat had found us. The doctor told me that I had lost my baby," I said, my voice cracking at the last part. Damiano took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "That wasn't the worst part of that day. Later, they told me that my mom died," I said, feeling the hot tears on my face.

Damiano wiped them away as soon as they fell, though. I gave him a small smile and continued. "My dad was upset with everything. He was angry and depressed, so he turned all that and said it was my fault. For the next year, he would come home drunk and hit me. Every night, he reminded me of my mistakes. How I killed my baby, how I had caused my own mother's death," I sad breathlessly.

"I had to leave, so when I graduated high school, I left and came to Rome. I left my only family, my friends, my name, I ran away and left everything in Taormina," I told him, finally looking at him in the eyes.

I waited for the full force of the story to hit him. For him to tell me that I was a monster. To yell at me and tell me never to talk to him again.

But he didn't do any of that.

He held my face in his hands and gave me a gentle kiss. It was so much more than that, though.

It held all of the love I had for him, the love that I couldn't give him because I was holding myself back.

"You're not mad," I whispered. I didn't really know who I was whispering it to, though. He simply shook his head and looked at me.

"I love you," I told him. It felt right to say it. I was nervous, sure, but we can't know anything unless we try.

I waited for the longest thirty seconds of my life before he said, "I love you, too."

I gave him a soft laugh before looking into his eyes. "I don't think I've been this happy in a while," I told him. He wrapped me in his arms and said, "I want to make you happy every day."

I hummed in agreement as I cuddled him more. We stayed like that for a while until my stomach growled. "How about some of that soup I made," he asked, chuckling.

I blushed and took his hand as he walked into the kitchen.

I knew him too well because I could see the suppressed curiosity that he had. "Go ahead," I told him as he gave me a bowl of soup. "What?" He questioned, getting himself a bowl.

"Ask the questions," I told him. He came and sat next to me, "Are you sure?" I nodded and urged him to go on. "You said that you left after high school, but how did you get the money to come here?" He asked.

"Easy, I had been working long hours to stay away from my dad, and my mom left me money in her will," I told him, sipping on the soup. He nodded before continuing his questions, "Why did you never tell anyone what was happening?"

Dang. This man really knew how to ask questions. I sucked in a breath and answered, "I don't know. I guess I was too scared to. I'm too scared that people would see the monster I am."

He squeezed my hand, "You're not a monster." "I try to remember that, but it was literally beat into me that I was," I told him.

I swear I saw his eyes go red for a moment before he asked his next question, "You said you left your name behind. What did you mean?"

"Angelina is my name, but not my first one. I changed it in hopes that I would change into it and let my old name die with everything else that I left," I told him honestly.

"So what's your real name?" He asked curiously. "Coraline," I said simply. "Coraline," he repeated.

I loved the way he sounded when he said it. It wasn't filled with hatred or anger. It was filled with love and joy.

"Do you want me to call you that?" He asked after a couple of seconds of silence. I nodded, "But only when it's just us."

He nodded in agreement, "Ok, one last thing. None of this explains why you are hung over. And don't tell me you were out, I called Vic, and she said you were home all night."

I internally groaned. Why the fuck did he have to be so goddamn observant. "I usually drink alcohol before bed so I don't have nightmares. They are usually about when my dad abuses me. Last night I had eaten two meals and I had gotten bloated and it reminded me too much of when I was pregnant, so I didn't pay attention to how much I drank," I said in a rush.

"Coraline, next time you have them call me, and we can talk, ok?" He said. I nodded. I couldn't believe it, he wasn't mad or upset.

"C'mon let's go back to bed," Damiano said. I couldn't have thought of a better idea.

I had dozed off after Dam had put on a movie, but in my hazy half-sleep state I managed to hear him whisper, "I love you my beautiful Coraline."