Page 44 of Cut Me Down

“It’s all too much! Just get out! Get the fuck out! I don’t want you here!” My voice strains as I yell, the pain from last night still ever present. Reminding me of the potential danger that Damien could be to my life.

Suddenly, I feel his strong hands grab my upper arms and grip tightly as he pushes me onto the bed. Landing on top of me. Arms thrashing and nails clawing, I try to push him off me, but to no avail. My arms slip, allowing me to move slightly to keep him off of my lungs, and I slightly withdraw to the realization that even though his grip is strong enough to keep me down, he’s not hurting me. His strong hands dig into my arms, but his grip on my thighs this morning was stronger than this. He's controlling his anger at this moment, and that is more surprising to me than anything else.

“What’s really the problem, Ashia?! I told you, you don’t get a fucking choice. You get every other choice but that one! The only way you're escaping me is if someone pries you from my cold dead hands!” His hands will be warm with blood when he tosses my body in the trash. Stalker situations only end one of two ways. Dead, or wishing I was. He’ll either kill me, or I’ll fall in love with his crazy ass. If I were to feel for him, and then not have him, I wouldn’t survive it. I know my heart and soul couldn’t take it.

“You have me! You hear me!? You have all of me! You may be mine, but I'm also yours! Until our last breath! You may not have come to terms with that yet, but you will! Because whether you want to admit it or not, you feel something for me to! This pull, this compulsion to be with you, is not one sided!”

I stop struggling with his words. He doesn’t mean them. I was with Cooper for three years. He knew everything about me and still loathed me. Damien just said he doesn’t believe in love, so what is he wanting? He doesn’t mean this. He couldn’t. A part of me wants him to mean it, but he couldn’t. Right?

Is someone capable of such violence really able to feel this way? Am I so desperate to believe that he could? Why me? There’s much better than me out there…and he’ll find it one day when I least expect it. I should be terrified at his words, claiming the only way I'll escape is by us dying, but dying doesn't scare me. Continuing to live with the crushing loneliness I got to know so well does.

And I do feel something for him. While I know it’s irrational, and every box on the crazy list is checked off, it doesn’t make this pull go away. The moment I saw him that first day, something pulled me to him. I was looking for him the next morning like a little schoolgirl for fucks sake. I take a deep breath, pleading with myself not to speak. Not to let the dam break, and show this man worthy of Hades how broken I am, but I’m a runaway train right now.

“You'll get tired of me…” I say shakily as the tears start to flow from my eyes. Feeling the weight of shame crash into me with my confession. “When you're done with this game, I'll either be dead or wish I was…when you really know me, you won’t want me…this is just some fucked up game that my mind and soul won’t survive playing…” I watch as my sobs bounce off the bed, shaking him…so I squeeze my eyes shut, burying myself in the despair I feel…

“Ashia. How could you possibly think so low of yourself? You areeverythingto me. I may not have asked you about your life yet, or the things you like, or your favorite color. But I know. I know that you love Star Wars, and not just the movies. You love the books and non-cannon literature, even though your mind races too much to finish reading them. You cling to that whole franchise because it outlines betrayal, and you feel that pain every day.” Another sob makes its way through.

“I know your favorite color is red. But not red like a normal rose or a stop light. The kind of red just on the verge of being black, the red that changes from blue as it leaves our veins. The same red as the flowers I leave for you. That’s your favorite color shirt to wear to work because you feel beautiful in it, and I can tell because of the way you carry yourself when you wear it. And you're right, you're so fucking beautiful in that color.” I open my eyes again and blink the tears away to stare back at him, deeply. So I can try to read him at a fraction of the amount he’s read me.

“I know that the movies you watch at night depend on the day you had. When you had too many assholes in your chair, you watch horror movies to remind you that they don’t have to scare you, because you've been through worse. Sometimes even watching the survivor take their anger out on the villain because you can’t. When you had a boring day, when men didn’t want to talk as you cut their hair, you watch comedies, and your favorite is ‘Accepted’ with Justin Long. You never get tired of it.” He lets out a small huff. “You feel music so intensely and you dance when you’re alone because you don’t want anyone’s judgment to take that feeling from you…”

“STOP!….” I yell through my sobs and tightly close my eyes again, to the point of pain. He can’t know all of this. He couldn’t possibly care enough to notice…there’s no way he does… “Please just stop.” I quietly force through my sobs as he relaxes his grip and moves a hand to my cheek.

“Look at me.” I force my eyes open again and stare into his baby blues, and either my eyes are broken from my tears, or his eyes are watery as well… “I'm not going to stop. I may be crazy. I may be a murderer, and a stalker, but I'm not a liar. I told you I wanted to spend the rest of my life finding out everything about you, and I fucking meant it! So, I'm not going to stop! I am going to teach you to love yourself again and I promise that too!” I don’t know if I believe him or not…but I want to. I want to so God damn badly, and in this moment, I don’t care why I want to.

When I first saw him that day, it was like something inside me clicked into place. A piece of me resurfaced that I thought was long gone. Making me wonder if ‘at first sight’ connections were possible. But I let my fears take hold of me that day. I didn’t ask Carter about him, and I made sure not to look in his direction again that evening. The thoughts of a relationship brewed in my mind, but then flew away again almost instantly. Like a flock of birds was afraid of what was in my head, but I can’t keep myself guarded like this forever. The birds will circle my brain until there’s nothing left to pick at.

“You can’t promise to put me back together and then break me again…I won’t survive it. So please, if you have any mercy, don’t do that to me…”

“I’ll break you in a thousand ways, little wolf…” I swallow what tears I have left, feeling whatever force was pressing against my chest lift and disappear. He kisses my forehead before nudging his head against mine. “But not like that.Neverlike that.” He lets go of me fully, but then scoops me into his arms. One wraps under my shoulders and the other reaching around and over my body as he presses me against him. Holding me so damn tight. The tingling on my skin is telling me to push myself off of him and run like hell, but the warmth in my chest and body tells me to lay here in his arms.

I gently place the palm of my hand on his chest to feel his heart racing, and I use the momentum of his beats to calm myself down. I’ve never felt something so comforting. I'm already dreading the cold next to me once he leaves tonight. It’s going to make me miss this, and that might be scarier than anything else that’s happened in the past two weeks.

To my surprise, he pulls back the covers, moves me to the top of the bed, and curls up next to me before pulling the blanket over top of us. I turn away from him, so his hypnotizing features don’t cloud my judgement anymore. The soft feeling of his fingers caresses my scalp as he runs through my hair a few times. Just before gently grazing his knuckle down my cheek.

“You are so beautiful…inside and out. Everything is going to be okay.” I suck in a small bit of air in a short gasp.

I know he doesn’t mean that. My hair is messed up, I'm a crying mess, and I know he can still see the bruises under my eye and on my neck. Not to mention that I am so fucked up that even if things between us evolved, I’m not sure I could ever be what he needed.

Will everything be okay? I don’t see any of this turning into a happily ever after, or any of the things that fairytales teach us when we’re young. All I see at the end of this is my grave.

He runs his thumb over my jaw before wrapping his arm around my stomach and pulling me close to him again, resting his head on mine, and gently inhaling the scent from my hair. I'm not used to these soft, comforting touches. It feels like bugs are under my skin. Yet, I want more of it. I feel my eyes fall heavy as the comforting touch calms my racing heart, and it’s not long before I let his soothing gestures lull me to sleep.

Chapter seventeen

Damien

‘Alkaline’ – Sleep Token

The Next Day

The night air is cool, and the scent of freshly bloomed flowers and leaves paints the air. It’s refreshing. A stark contrast to the normal scent of trash and smog the city gives. The rooftop to the Basement doesn’t have a great view, but the roof line is shorter than the buildings on either side, so it gives me a secluded area to finish my days’ work. I’m excited about our new headquarters. Where I’ll have a bigger office, and we’ll be able to expand our operations like we need, but I might actually miss this small space. Sitting out here with my whiskey and being able to smoke and listen to music gives me a good chance to unwind after a long day.

Fighting with Carter about keeping the store was definitely a good argument to have. It may not make a lot of money, but it’s a good front and it’ll give us a good space for a quick hideout in the city. Plus, I spent a lot of time and money gathering all of the merchandise and knowing that my girl would probably faint walking into a store like mine is all the reason to keep it.

Taking a few moments to myself is necessary with this line of work. Most of the time, like now, I need to work while I take that moment, but a break from the gunfire, screams, and loud engines help put everything into perspective. Their manufacturing locations become more apparent, dates and times of distribution routes have more reason, and everything seems to fall into place.

I'm reading over reports of today’s findings and going over Carter’s notes from the Dust meeting last night. They didn’t manage to catch the face of Dranan Hugo, but they managed to identify a few of the major dealers and manufacturers. I occasionally look up to the laptop screen in front me and watch my hacking software work it’s magic. Finding any and all traces of their names on things like bank accounts, online transactions, real estate, court records, and anything else I can find electronically.

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