I drag my weary body out of bed. When I open my door, I jump back a step. I don’t know how long Damian has been standing outside my door.
He takes the step that closes the distance between us and his palms warm my cheeks. His hands move into my hair and he presses his lips to my forehead. “I have you. You’re safe, Cara,” he whispers.
He takes my hand and pulls me to his room which has become my sanctuary of late. I crawl onto the bed and wait for him to lie down before I snuggle into his side.
“Damian,” I whisper, wanting to keep the calmness that has settled between us. “Why did you keep me?” I ask the question that’s been on my mind most since he brought me here.
“I’d rather not answer that one,” he denies me an answer for the first time.
I pull back so I can see his face better. He’s frowning and that worry muscle in his jaw is ticking overtime.
“Why not?” I push. I shouldn’t but, against my better judgment, I do.
“You’re healing, Cara.” He tries to smile but it looks like a grimace. “Let’s leave it at that.”
I look down at his chest and I think about what he just said. Why would it have anything to do with me healing?
“Uhm…”
I can feel the frustration pulse off of him.
“Why can’t you just leave it?” he growls. “I failed Leah. I left her unprotected and he beat the shit out of her, knowing it was the only way to get to me. My father killed her. I know it in my gut. They say she hanged herself but I don’t believe it for one fucking minute. He killed her. I failed her and fuck,” he hisses, “I failed you, too! Do you want to hear that I feel like shit because I was too late?” I try not to see the connection - that I’m nothing more than a replacement for his dead girlfriend that he couldn’t save.
His voice is nothing but a mere whisper, “Tom sent me the first recording they made of you. I watched that recording of you being beaten over and over … and…” He reaches for me but just before his hand touches my cheek he drops it. “I just knew I had to get to you. I felt sick knowing they had you.”
“Me or Leah,” I whisper and I lift my eyes to his. “Did you go to get me or Leah?” I ask, and my voice quivers. “Who did you bring home, Damian? Me or Leah?”
His face darkens and I see the predator, just like he was that day when he came to get me. He lifts his head slowly and my heart starts to beat heavily, thumping faster when he sucks a breath through his teeth.
“I dragged you out of that fucking hole,” he hisses. “I cleaned you, Cara.” My name sounds bitter on his lips. “I killed nine men for you.” He takes a breath and I know he’s not done. I’ve angered him.
“Don’t…” I start but he holds up his hand and the gesture alone makes the air crackle.
“I feel because of you. I hate because of you. I’m angry because of you. I wish I could go back and torture them, make them suffer, instead of giving them such quick deaths.” His voice drops and every word is like a punch. “When I watched those recordings they made of you…” He pauses and I start to shake my head, willing him to stop. “That’s not what gutted me, Cara. Hearing you scream in my house for those fuckers to stop is what eats at my fucking soul! Not knowing how to make it fucking better frustrates the shit out of me. Do you know how fucked up I feel because I was too late?”
“Please stop,” I croak, my lungs burning for air.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m not answering your question though, am I? I kept you because you have no one. There’s not a single fucking person out there that cares if you die. I saw someone who was shoved into this fucked up world to fend for herself, and she couldn’t. I saw someone who needed to be protected.” He sucks in a ragged breath and then he whispers, “I see the most beautiful fucked up woman in front of me and she’s perfect. You’re so beautifully broken and it makes me want to keep you.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t hear the words he’s saying, they hurt too much. I scoot off of the bed and walk away from Damian and his honesty.
I’m not sure what half of what he said means. I’m not sure what he feels for me. I’m not even sure how I feel about him.
I’m dead sure that I’m far from ready for any kind of relationship.
I was right. It’s time to leave.
The water is red all around me and the blood tastes sweet. I hear the familiar sound coming at me and I wait for the pain to slice into my back, but then it burns.
The sound isn’t the propellers hitting at the water, it’s skin on skin, hitting, kicking, raping. The water holds me. It starts to claw at me, groping, with long watery fingers. They’re everywhere. Inside of me, until there’s only water and nothing left of me.