Damaged

Chapter Seven

"The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes." - Marcel Proust

ANNA

In the morning I wake up in Dante's bed, remembering crying myself to sleep last night with Stuart's words and sobs still echoing in my ears. The agony and suffering behind his eyes as he'd told me his story, the violence and desperation behind his actions as he ripped at his chest, desperate for a way to escape. Death isn't the answer, I should know that.

"Afternoon." I realise I've awoken with somebody knocking on the door, and Dante pushes it open with a sheepish smile. "Good afternoon." I yawn, sitting up on the bed and scratching my head, chanting mentally that he won't notice the red circles around my eyes from when I'd been crying last night. "How did you sleep?" He asks, sitting down next to me on his bed. "Good... What about you?" he smirks. "Let's just say my back feels like someone's hacking away at it with an axe." I give a short laugh before assessing his expression. "What's up?" I ask, concerned for him now. "I'm sorry about last night... I was pretty drunk... I remember I said some stuff." I start laughing at the memory of him slurring sexual innuendos into my ear for most of the night. "Hey I was drunk too; the difference is I can handle it." His mouth falls open in shock at my dig. "I can handle it too... just... Not around you." I scoff and nudge him slightly with my shoulder saying, "Yeah right." We're silent for a moment before Bryan comes staggering inside the room, still half drunk. "Don't mind me." He slurs before throwing himself face down on his bed and falling asleep instantly. "C'mon, I'll take you for some lunch." I tell Dante, pulling him to a stance. "What?" he asks baffled. "Well, seeing as our dinner got interrupted last night, I thought I'd take you for lunch today, to say thankyou." And so we can speak about Stuart... I pick up my bag from the bottom of the bed and head to the bathroom to get changed, listening to the several different tones of snoring as everyone is laid on the bench and floor. I step inside the bathroom and lock the door behind me, standing in front of the mirror and staring at my reflection. Dante could easily get any girl he wants. So what's so special about me? I'm scarred, not just mentally but physically. Unlike Stuart, I have no tattoos to hide them from view. I rely on clothes and ribbons to do that. But how long can I go hiding beneath materials? Not long. Not long at all. And even I know that...

DANTE

"I don't get it..." I shake my head in confusion as we walk together down to the beach. "What?" She asks, smiling up at me. I heave a sigh and throw an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to me and ignoring the way she tenses up at my touch. "Why you feel the need to cover that gorgeous face of yours in makeup whenever you're out with me..." A cute blush colours her olive cheeks and she looks out at the sea as we walk towards the harbour where all the cafes are. "I mean it's not like I haven't seen you without it before... You never used to wear makeup around me, and I think you look pretty beautiful without it." Her blush turns red and she pulls away from me, laughing. "Shut up Dante." She says softly. "You don't take compliments well, do you?" I ask through a smile, assessing the way her expression changes. She shrugs and sighs softly. "I guess I'm just not used to hearing them." My heart drops a little. How can this girl have such low self esteem? She needs to sit in front of the mirror to put on her makeup, so she's seen her reflection. Surely she must know that she's prettier than every girl on this trip with us all put together? "You know what else I don't get?" I ask after a long silence. She turns her face to mine with a raised eyebrow. "How you're not hungover even the slightest." She gives a tinkling laugh and says, "Well, maybe you're not used to them."

ANNA

Inside the café we have lunch and sit chatting for what feels like hours. Dante and I are too deep in happy conversation that I don't want to ruin the atmosphere with talk about Stuart. I find myself actually enjoying conversation, and actually answering honestly to the questions Dante asks me, not even getting tired with the endless discussion. We talk and talk and talk. About school, college, future plans, goals, and then Dante starts up the conversation of childhood memories. "If there was any childhood memory you could relive, what would it be, and why?" Dante asks as I sip my strawberry milkshake. How about none of them? I bite my tongue so I won't say this and quickly sweep my eyes over the café, desperate for a distraction. Finally, I think of one and summon up my inner flirt. "Look over there," I whisper, leaning closer to him and covering his right hand sitting on the table with my left. I cast my eyes over to the old couple in the corner, holding hands over the table and talking animatedly, looking at pictures they've just got developed. "Isn't that adorable? It's crazy to think how long couples stay together, wouldn't you say? Well, not nowadays what with divorce and everything, but there are the occasional couple who have been together since they were young. Isn't that remarkable?" Dante studies the couple for a while before turning back to me, nodding and grinning and flipping his hand so our fingers lace together. "Yeah it is pretty remarkable," He smiles, holding my eyes with his intensity. "Why don't we," He leans forward to me over the table, our previous conversation completely forgotten. "Spend today distracting the guys, so they're out of the caravan so I can cook you a proper meal tonight?" I smile at the thought of us, in that big old caravan, two teenagers, having a cooked meal. Dante's intentions are far from the traditional route he's claiming them to be. I lean closer, holding his eyes with my best smile. I push my milkshake out of the way saying, "Well, if we can get all the guys out of the caravan... Then that sounds like a perfect idea."