Damien was very intense about my schooling, always expressing how important it was for me to have the finest education. Constantly encouraging me to reach above and beyond what was standard in knowledge, aptitude, and life in general. Saying it would make me a well-rounded young lady, which he felt Cuba needed more of.
Damien’s boots pounded against the floorboards with each step he took through the house. I sat up tall, smiling, eagerly waiting for him to enter the living room and greet me in whatever language he wanted to practice that day, like he always did. But instead, he walked in and tossed the doll on the couch near me, not saying a word. My smile quickly faded as soon as I looked up from my studies to meet his gaze, and he suddenly turned his back to me. Leaving the room without so much as acknowledging me for the first time ever and made his way toward the kitchen.
I jerked back, confused.
Did I do something wrong? Was he mad that I wasn’t really studying?
I waited for a few seconds before I stood and grabbed my new doll, following after him. Anxiously needing to know what was going on, thinking maybe I misinterpreted things. Nothing about the way he was acting was normal. I slowed my pace the closer I got to the kitchen, each step calculated and precise. My heart was racing a mile a minute, the closer I got to crossing the threshold into the unknown. Never in a million years did I ever expect to encounter…
The other side of Damien Montero.
When I walked through the swinging doors, he was standing in front of the stove with his back to me.
I didn’t waver. “Hey, tout va bien?” I asked in French, “Hey, is everything alright?” Trying to maintain our normal, calm routine. Silently hoping it would make him smile, knowing he loved it when I showed him how much I was perfecting another language.
“Amira, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave the fucking stove on?” he snapped in a tone he had never used with me before.
I winced, completely caught off guard by his demeanor. “I didn’t… Mama Rosa did. She went—”
“I don’t give a fuck where she went!” He slammed the wooden spoon on the counter, causing his back to tense and his muscles to constrict.
My eyes widened, and my body jolted again. Stunned by the drastic turn of events with his dominant, demanding, controlling presence looming over the stove.
“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to fucking listen to me,” he ordered in an eerie tone, making my lip quiver and my body tense.
I shook my head back and forth. “I… I … I do. I al—”
He abruptly turned around, rendering me speechless and was over to me in three strides, ripping the doll out of my hand. Still not fully looking at me, he spewed, “I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuses. You can’t do anything right, can you? Your pronunciation is horrible, have you even been studying? I’m not paying to have the most prestigious tutor in Cuba, if you’re going to fuck off!”
“Damien…” I gasped, taken back.
Where was the person I would catch up on every last detail of my day with? The man who seemed to look forward to our conversations as much as I did, like they were the best part of his day too. Where he’d nod his head or grin when I’d say something amusing, which was often. All while he listened intently to everything I had to share. It didn’t matter how trivial or unimportant it was. It meant something to him, because it meant something to me.
And to a thirteen-year-old girl, that meant everything.
I wanted him to fully face me. Look into his eyes like I had done so many times before, knowing they would show me everything I needed to see. But I was terrified of the man who’d be staring back at me. Adrenaline and fear surged through my veins. The thought alone caused shivers to course down my spine. I shuddered at the mere thought of making that connection.
“What?!” he roared, flexing his hands into fists at his side. His knuckles turning white from the pressure of his grip.
I should’ve run out of the room, but the expression on his face held me captive to the ground beneath me.
“Jesus Christ, Amira. Were you this needy with your papi? Always up his ass, begging for more fucking attention? Don’t I give you enough of that already? All I do is provide for you! Bring you gifts, help you study, put food on the table, and a roof over your head. I’m exhausted tending to all your needs! It’s like I’m raising a child, and I didn’t even fucking get laid! I didn’t ask for this life!” he viciously spat, stepping toward me. I instinctively stepped back in fear, only fueling his fury. “And you still haven’t fucking thanked me for your gift! Why don’t you just go run along and play with all your precious goddamn dolls that I’ve paid for.”
He threw my new doll at my feet, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Oh my God! Who are you?” I blurted, already knowing the answer.
His gaze finally met mine, except it wasn’t his kind eyes staring back at me.
They weren’t familiar.
They weren’t comforting.
They. Weren’t. Damien’s.
I wasn’t just imagining it. It wasn’t a figment of my mind. I’d never seen this stare before, at least not on him. They were dark and daunting, empty and evil. Only reminding me of the man who took my life away.
The monster…
“Better yet,” he added, cocking his head to the side. Narrowing his deviant gaze at me. “Why don’t you go run and hide. That seems to be the only thing you’re fucking good at.”
The forceful blow from his words almost knocked me on the floor, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Winded from his actions.
Choking from his words.
All the air from my lungs ceased to exist, evaporating from the pain.
“I’m sor—”
“Now!”
I did.
I ran on pure emotion and terror, unable to get away from him fast enough. Trying to seek shelter anywhere I could. I didn’t even realize where I was running to until I tried to open the front door. Only to have it unexpectedly slammed shut from behind me.
“Amira—”
I didn’t have to wonder who it was. Not allowing him to get another malicious word out, I took off again. Running toward my bedroom this time. I barely made it five strides down the hallway before he grabbed ahold of my arm, hauling me backward to face him.
Instinctively, I fought to get free. “Let go!” I shouted, struggling to get away from him, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed my other wrist, tugging me forward, making me lose my footing. Slamming me into his hard chest. “Stop it! You’re scaring me! Please, just stop it!” I pleaded, my trembling voice breaking with each word that left my mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, instantly letting me go.
I stumbled, tripping over my feet, trying to regain my balance, when a strong arm wrapped around my waist. Catching me before I face-planted into the wall. Damien held me steady.
“Mu?eca,” he immediately coaxed in a familiar voice, like he knew I desperately needed to hear it. Causing me to intuitively peer up at him through my lashes.
We locked eyes.
Neither one of us said a word, we didn’t have to.