Mr. Grey-Book I

#Bonus

Damien Grey

I fluttered my eyes open, immediately greeted by the familiar darkness that had become my constant companion. One would think I'd be used to it by now, but the oppressive void never failed to unsettle me. Gripping the bed tightly, I managed to heave myself into a sitting position, my muscles protesting with every movement. It

The sound of the door opening sliced through the silence, indicating someone's arrival. "Who's there?" I called out, my voice hoarse and weary. It wasn't Emilia; I could always tell when she was around. She had this unique scent that inexplicably messed with my head, a subtle mix of lavender and something distinctly... her.

"It's me, Suzan," came the reply, her voice tinged with concern. "Are you feeling any better?"

I nodded, not bothering to vocalize my response. The memory of my recent fall down the stairs flashed through my mind. I couldn't even manage that simple task without incident. Pathetic.

"Where's Emilia?" I asked, unable to keep the edge of desperation from my voice.

"In the lawn with Lucas," Suzan whispered as if trying to soften the blow of her words.

I curled my fists, digging my nails into my palms to prevent myself from lashing out. The thought of Emilia with Lucas sent a surge of irrational anger through me, which I struggled to suppress. Running a hand through my hair, I decided to voice the question that had been haunting me for weeks.

"Suzan," I began, my throat constricting, "does Emilia remind you of—" I stopped, unable to complete the sentence. The name stuck in my throat like a jagged piece of glass.

"Elena," Suzan supplied gently. I could almost hear the sad smile in her voice. "In every sense. I was taken aback the first time I saw her."

I exhaled slowly, my suspicions confirmed. The revelation weighed heavily on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I had done a background check on Emilia, driven by the knowledge that my mother never acted on impulse. If she had chosen Emilia, there had to be a reason. And I was right. There was a reason—a despicable one.

Trust her to take advantage of that situation, I thought bitterly. And the naive girl has no idea what she's gotten herself into.

All my life, I had been conditioned to believe that everyone was created to care only about themselves and nothing else. Elena was the one person who made me see beyond that narrow worldview. But she left, and with her departure went my ability to see—literally. It was as if karma had finally caught up with me, plunging me into an endless night.

"Can you describe her for me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Who?" Suzan questioned, confusion evident in her tone.

"Emilia," I clarified. "I want to picture her."

"Oh," Suzan breathed out, pausing for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. "Well, she's of medium height, not fat or thin, but very curvy—"

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to form a perfect picture in my mind as Suzan continued her description. Despite the darkness that perpetually surrounded me, I could almost see Emilia taking shape in my imagination.

"She has this long, wavy chestnut hair that falls just past her shoulders," Suzan went on, her voice taking on a softer quality. "Her eyes are a deep, rich brown—like warm honey in sunlight. They're expressive, you know? Always seem to be dancing with some hidden amusement or deep thought."

I nodded, encouraging her to continue. In my mind's eye, I saw a blurry outline slowly coming into focus.

"Her skin is smooth and clear, with a natural olive tone. She has high cheekbones and a delicate nose, but it's her smile that really catches your attention. It's wide and genuine, lighting up her whole face when she's truly happy."

I felt a pang in my chest at the mention. How I wished I could see it for myself.

The image in my mind became clearer, and more defined. I could almost feel Emilia's presence in the room, her vitality a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness that surrounded me.

"Thank you, Suzan," I said, my voice thick with emotion I couldn't quite name. "That's... that's enough."

I heard Suzan shift, probably nodding out of habit despite my inability to see it. "Is there anything else you need, Damien?"

I shook my head, suddenly feeling drained. "No, that will be all. You can go."

As the door closed behind Suzan, I was left alone with my thoughts and the vivid mental image of Emilia. The similarities to Elena were undeniable, and that realization brought with it a tidal wave of conflicting emotions.

Anger at my mother for her manipulations. Frustration at my own weakness.  I lay back down, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with me.