Verboten

Chapter 17: Lost and Confused

Damien's POV

The incessant ringing of my alarm brutally pulled me out of my exhaustion slumber. My head was pounding with an ever more brutal headache.

I tumbled out of bed, begrudgingly, aware of what had happened hours prior. I was in a desperate need for a shower in hopes of cleansing away the memories because I was suddenly hyperaware of how I mistreated Amelia. The guilt was suffusing through every nook and cranny of my soul because I couldn't bear the thought that I hurt her even though I knew deep down, that this wasn't even the first time.

I hated how carnal I was, but what I hated more so was how I had lost control, not only over my actions, but also my emotions.

I felt the scalding hot water belt over my back, but I made no attempt to cool it down; I deserved to feel a bit of pain after what I've done.

The lie has become overbearing; I was finding it harder and harder to not slip up, and the longer it drew on for, the harder I found it to look Noah in the eye because somehow I always saw a reflection of how sick I was in his orbs. I wanted to tell him, I always do, but I knew for a fact that he'll never accept it.

I couldn't even blame him because if the roles were reversed; I'd never agree to let my daughter anywhere near a paedophilic 42 year old man.

I closed my eyes, letting the water wash over my face, perhaps it'd cleanse my sins; I laughed ironically to myself because behind my closed lids I pictured her.

I pictured her softness and the innocence of her smiles, I picture her risqué eyes when she tried being the least bit unchaste, but mostly I picture the way her features contort into tranquility when she feels satisfied with herself, something much unlike her because my baby always doubted her worth.

I hated it, how she never saw herself the way I saw her, the way her parents saw her - she was worth so much, but was too blinded to notice.

I wasn't sure what it was that drew me to Amelia from the start. Perhaps it was that pale blue dress she wore, or the way she held her cup of tea. Perhaps it was the way her cheeks tinted with colour or the way she lost herself in written words and letters. Perhaps it was how inexperienced she was because it made me feel even more conscious of her, her needs and what's best for her present, future and - if I could - I'd fix her past.

I thought I loved her the way an uncle does in the start, or perhaps I tried to convince myself of so, but the way I felt when my eyes fell upon her was surreal, perhaps - too - it still feels surreal.

I sighed, resting my head against the wet tile wall. "Fuck." I muttered, pounding my head lightly against the wall with a rhythmic tempo. "Fucking beautiful Amelia." I muttered again, my voice inaudible in comparison to the pelting of the water against the tub, but in my head it was loud, louder than anything.

"I don't deserve you, baby. I don't deserve you." The words were tumbling past my lips unfiltered, the floodgates of my emotions, my vexations and my pains were all flung open off their hinges, and the side of me that no one's ever seen appeared.

The loneliness, the hound and distress, the pain, the guilt and regrets, they're all threatening to suffocate me along with the accumulating steam building up in the bathroom; I knew I had to get out, but a part of me wanted to test my limit, perhaps then I'd figure out how long I'd be able to hide the secret from Noah before I crack.

I felt the burning in my lungs, as every breath felt even more arduous to draw in. I saw her frightened face flash behind my eyes, and I grappled them harder, cursing my self louder.

I wasn't sure how she endures me after all I've done, she had every right to run to her father to tell him all about my insanity because poor Amelia got caught in my crossfire more than just once, but I never mean to; I never mean to hurt my baby.