Scapegoat

The Ocean

“He doesn’t have a name; all we know is that he’s dangerous.” Alaric came over and kissed my forehead before heading off into another room. “You two should get some sleep.”

Damien let go of my hand and proceeded to lift me into his strong arms. We went up the spiralling staircase and into the first door; he carefully opened the door and carried me into the pristine bedroom. There was a king sized bed and a single shower, with only clear doors to hide behind. Damien placed me on the edge of the bed.

“You should probably take a shower, it’ll help.” Damien took off his shirt and proceeded to flop down onto the bed, with his arms behind his head.

“How am I supposed to shower?” I crossed my arms and scowled at the floor.

“Just do it in your underwear, I won’t stare. But you have to stay clean right?” Damien sat up and placed a comforting arm around my shoulder. I let out a sigh and let him help me into the shower; I took off my clothes and was left just in my bra and girl shorts. Damien looked at me with a strange expression.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” I sat down in the shower, Damien crouching in front of me, to help me.

The first drop hit my skin. I remembered the pain of being attacked by Damien and it caused me to flinch. The hot water steam collided with my skin, releasing tension. I closed my eyes, and the hot steam enveloped me. As I washed shampoo suds off me, the water sending them in little streams down my back, I thought about how close I was to dying just hours ago. The voices were banging in my head, they said the same thing over and over again, how much clearer could it be? My skin was burning from the mellow droplets morphing into sharp little shards of glass. The pain wasn’t much but I tried to squeeze my eyes shut so Damien wouldn’t notice.

He let out a sigh and lifted me into his arms once more; I could feel his heart beating faster and faster as we got nearer to the bed. He placed me down gently before chucking a baggy shirt at me, it was an Iron maiden top. I chuckled to myself a little.

“What’s so funny?” Damien slid into the bed, now changed into shorts.

“When I was little my father always played this, it was always so much fun to watch him so happy.” I slipped it over my head and sat on the edge of the bed, pondering about things.

“Why do you always only talk about your childhood?” I turned myself around gently to face Damien. Droplets of water still slid down his bare chest.

“Because it’s all I have, my parents died when I was fourteen so it makes sense.” I looked over at Damien, his hand stretched out. He nodded before leaning forwards more, I took his hand and he pulled me over to him. I slid under the covers and lay beside him, trying to keep my eyes open.