A Blood Soaked Throne - Part Two

Five- Damien

The hours pass by as I pace furiously in the living room. I hid my anger as she told me the details of that first night with my father and listened as the rage boiled inside me. She needs me to be there for her right now, not to explode with anger as she opens up to me.

I can picture everything that she said in my mind. The blood staining the sheets, his hand around her throat while he savored the tears that fell. The smile on his face while she screamed. She was in so much pain, and he enjoyed it.

Nothing could have prepared me for this. My reaction makes me question whether or not I'll be able to handle finding out the rest of her experience, but this isn't about me. I have to find some way to conceal my emotions.

The power I've been struggling with begins to take over again, the tattoo on my arm glowing brightly in the pitch black room. I need to get out of here, clear my head. The knife glimmers against the vibrant light and I wrap my hand tightly around the handle. My knuckles turn white as I struggle to keep the aggression out of my actions.

I step quietly into the hallway and listen to noise. I don't expect anyone to be in here, but I'll do a thorough sweep on the top few floors of the complex while I exhaust the toxic energy building inside me. As expected all of the apartments I check are empty, and I don't hear anything that indicates any other life here besides us.

My mind wanders despite my attempt to keep it occupied and images of that night flash through my mind. I remember barely being able to keep my eyes open when the hand that was meant to deliver my final blow stopped moving. I could hear her voice, the desperation as she gave up her life for mine. I tried to get up, to stop the traumatizing events she described to me. If I had this power then, maybe I would've been able to protect her.

I move between floors until I see the dim sunlight peeking through broken windows. My anger doesn't disappear, I don't think that it ever will, but it simmers quietly inside me as I head back to the apartment. I lock the door behind me as I step inside and lay down on the couch, watching as the glow of my tattoo gradually fades back to normal.

I close my eyes in an attempt to sleep, hoping that it will calm my aggression enough that it doesn't show obviously on my face. I can't give her any more reasons to fear me.

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As my eyes flutter open I see the blurry outline of Alayah sitting on the chair across from me. She's pulled the blankets from the bedroom out and wrapped them around her to create some sort of cocoon. Her gaze is drawn in by the book in her lap, the same one she had been holding the morning of our escape. Bits of sunlight streak across her skin, and I'm suddenly wide awake. She looks so beautiful.

The sight of her brings back yesterday's abrupt confession of my feelings. I couldn't focus on how embarrassed I felt with the rage taking over inside me, but seeing her like this brings it all back. I hadn't planned to tell her. I was going to keep those feelings locked away until she'd had time to process the trauma she'd been through.

I couldn't keep quiet when she said what she did about causing me pain. I needed her to know how much she means to me. I wasn't even sure she felt the same way, I could barely breathe when she said she did. That same breathlessness captivates me now.

Her gaze shifts as I push myself up to a sitting position. Her mouth turns up slightly into a smile and I return it easily. I grab the book bag beside the leg of the couch and she brings her focus back to the words in front of her. My hand finds the sketchbook I stowed away at the last minute while I was packing and a single sharpened pencil. It's been so long since I flipped through its thick pages.

Our morning passes in blissful silence as her eyes scan the words in the book and my pencil sketches the delicate outline of her frame. The blanket falls comfortably over her shoulder and drapes over her stomach, covering the entire lower half of her body. I shade in the dark shadows where it bunches together but my interest lies in the way the light hits her face. Her eyes shine so brilliantly against the sunlight.

I'm not sure how many hours pass as I carefully draw each curve and detail of her sitting innocently in front of me, but her voice pulls me from my trance.

"Damien?" Her voice is quiet, I can hear a hesitancy in her tone. I set the sketchbook aside, giving her my full attention. "I want... I need you to know that after that first night I came to see you in the infirmary."

Her words catch me off guard, my heart splinters at the thought of her sitting next to me in agony while I couldn't do anything to help her. I nod my head slowly, and she continues.

"I felt so guilty for breaking my promise to you. I wasn't trying to disappoint you, but when I saw that knife inches from your heart I knew I had to stop him." Silent tears trickle from the corners of her eyes as those emotions crawl back up from wherever she had so desperately pushed them down to.

My stomach twists into knots thinking about how she felt. Just hours after my father's brutal assault she was focusing on my pain instead of her own. She spent this entire time thinking I hated her for going against my wishes and saving my life. That couldn't be further from the truth.

"I have never been disappointed in you. In fact it's been quite the opposite. I was disappointed in myself for not being strong enough to protect you. It makes my blood boil to think about what you had to suffer through for my life." My words pull more tears from her eyes that fall onto the open pages of the book in her lap.

"I couldn't breathe Damien, I couldn't do anything without him permitting me to do so. Even now the fear he instilled in me makes me smaller. I can still feel his collar around my throat, reminding me to be obedient. I..." she chokes on her words. There's still so much more that she's not ready to tell me. I can wait, I can listen when she needs me to.

"I know you can't feel it, but you don't have to hide yourself from me. One day, when all of this is behind us, you'll be free from his shackles. I will be here, no matter what parts of your personality you let free. I will cherish them all." My words might be too much for her right now, but ever since I let my true feelings slip through I'm finding it hard to hold back.

I can see her processing everything I've said, and then suddenly her eyes grow wide and the terror I've grown used to becomes prominent on her face. As the sun sets outside of the foggy windows my father's forgiving window of time expires, and he's making sure she knows.