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Rubbing his hands over my arms, he soothes me with tender words. “It’s all right, angel. You’re having a delayed reaction from the shock.”
Two more people are dead because of me. Because I ran. Because I’m a prisoner.
“I don’t want to be here.” I no longer want a part of this life. Everything I touch is tainted.
“You went through a traumatic experience. It’ll get better.”
I’m not sure it will, but I don’t have the energy to debate my present or future feelings. It wasn’t like this when I shot Jack. Then again, Harold immediately dragged me to Willowbrook. Before reality could set in, I was already sedated, my senses dulled, and my body numbed.
“Sleep,” Damian whispers, planting a kiss on my forehead.
“Will you stay?”
He hesitates. “I have something to take care of, but I won’t be long.”
“What?”
“Nothing to concern yourself over.”
I gasp, clutching at his shirt. “You’re going after Harold.”
“He put your life in danger, Lina.”
“Please, Damian.” He has no idea how dangerous Harold can be. “Stay with me. Don’t go. Don’t leave me. I beg you.”
His hesitation stretches a little longer this time. Finally, he says, “I’ll never leave you again when you need me.”
“Thank you,” I whisper on a sigh, fisting his shirt harder, as if that will prevent him from slipping away.
I drift off with the comforting knowledge that he’ll stay, because he always keeps his word.
The following morning, Anne and Zane’s murders are all over the news. According to the police report, gang violence is suspected. No suspects have been arrested. My stomach tightens so much at the last part, I almost empty my stomach in the toilet.
True to his promise, Damian hasn’t left my side. We woke together with him still fully dressed. After he made love to me in the shower, he took me outside to have breakfast on the terrace, claiming some sunlight will be good for me.
“Shall I ask Reyno to come over?” he asks, pouring me a cup of coffee.
“I’m not ready to talk about it.”
He concedes with silence, watching me intently as I sip the strong brew.
“Will you stay, today?” I ask tentatively.
“Do you need me to?”
“Yes.” For many reasons. I don’t want him to have more blood on his hands by going after Harold. Harold still has the information I want. More importantly, I can’t stomach the idea of anything happening to Damian.
“What do you want to do?”
“Maybe I’ll watch a movie.” Something mindless to help me forget.
“Sounds good.”
“Really?” I didn’t take him for the type to sit quietly on a sofa for longer than ten minutes.
His smile is indulgent. “I’ll even let you choose.”
I can’t remember the last time I watched anything. I don’t even know what kind of films I like, but I grab the offer gratefully. I’ll do anything not to be alone and to keep him home.
Jana arrives with grocery bags in the late morning. By the look on her face, she’s seen the news. She regards me silently as I help to unpack the food.
“It’s terrible what happened,” she says after a while.
“Yes,” I reply softly.
She doesn’t ask questions, but there’s suspicion in her eyes. Her former warmth makes space for distance and a tangible coolness. When we discuss the dinner menu, she’s all formality and business. She politely but firmly declines my offer to help with lunch, making it clear my presence is unwanted.
What did I expect? She’s not a foolish woman. After Damian threw Anne and Zane out, she must’ve suspected there was animosity between us. She must know Damian is a dangerous man who doesn’t walk the straight and narrow. It would be naïve not to think us involved in their sudden murders.
Feeling uncomfortable and in the way, I excuse myself to take Damian up on his offer to watch a movie. I feel guilty for keeping him from work. He’s always busy. More so now with the many loose ends he needs to tie up after the almost-sale of the mine.
Halfway through the film, I fall asleep on Damian’s lap. I wake up with him dragging his fingers soothingly through my hair. My guilt is still a knot in the pit of my stomach. I’m on pins and needles, expecting the police to break down Damian’s door at any minute, but I feel less nauseous and cold.
I don’t still his hands when they start to wander. I need his touch. I don’t argue when he turns me over, pulls down both our pants, and takes me hard and fast from behind. I move against him like a demon woman, taking what I want until we both collapse. I’m still tired and sore and don’t protest when Damian urges me to take a nap after lunch while he works from a chair by the fireplace. He’s been nothing but sweet and considerate, my kind monster, and it’s hard to remember not to get used to his kindness.
