Page 114 of Sticks & Serpents

I felt the world tilt as Damien’s mother shoved against me; her nails digging into my skin like daggers. The fire crackled behind us, its heat licking at my back, but all I could focus on was her furious expression.

“You don’t deserve him!” she snarled, venom dripping from each word.

My heart raced, and I tightened my grip around her wrist, refusing to let go. “Neither do you,” I shot back, the words escaping before I could think better of them.

Her fingers coiled around my throat, squeezing with an iron grip. I gasped, the air suddenly thick and suffocating. The room spun as panic surged through me. I struggled against her hold, our bodies colliding in a chaotic dance of desperation and rage.

The smoke filled my lungs, but it wasn’t just the fire that threatened to consume me; it was her fury. She squeezed harder, a twisted smile forming on her lips as if relishing in my struggle. I fought back with everything I had left, nails digging into her flesh in retaliation.

But then something shifted inside me—a moment of clarity amid the chaos. My fight began to drain away with every second she held me captive in this nightmare. Her face morphed from anger to triumph, feeding off my weakening resistance.

I went still beneath her grasp, breath hitching as the fight left my body.

For a heartbeat that felt like eternity, we locked eyes. My heart pounded violently against my ribcage while hers danced with dark satisfaction.

Then something inside snapped within me—I wouldn’t let her win this battle. With a sudden surge of determination that coursed through every vein in my body, I leaned closer and whispered fiercely into her face, “You will never control him again.”

And just like that—the resolve returned.

I wasn't sure what happened next—one moment I was caught in the whirlwind of Damien's mother's fury, and the next, I found myself shifting my weight, forcing her down until she was beneath me.

Her eyes widened in shock as I pinned her to the ground. The heat of the flames danced around us, but all I could focus on was the rage coursing through my veins.

“Let go of me!” she spat, her voice laced with venom.

I pressed down harder, feeling a surge of power. “You think you can threaten him? You think you can ruin his life anymore than you already have, you sick cunt?"

The words burst from me like a dam breaking, fueled by everything she had done to him—everything she still tried to do. I leaned closer, feeling the heat of her body beneath mine as I wrapped my fingers around her throat. The slickness of sweat mingled with smoke, filling my senses with a mix of fear and determination.

“Stop!” she gasped, but it only pushed me further into a frenzy.

I tightened my grip; the adrenaline surging through me like fire. Her eyes darted between fear and fury as I choked out the truth. “You will never control him again! He’s not yours to manipulate!”

The fight in her eyes dimmed for just a moment; something flickered behind them—shock or disbelief, maybe—but I didn't let up. With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed against her throat until she stilled beneath me.

Time slowed as silence enveloped us in that burning room; the chaos faded into the background.

I didn’t want to feel triumphant; part of me recoiled at what I was doing. But there was no room for hesitation now—not when Damien’s life hung in the balance.

With one final push against her throat, I felt her body go limp beneath me, and suddenly everything went quiet.

The fire roared behind me, a fierce beast consuming everything in its path. Flames licked at the expensive curtains, crawling hungrily up the walls, illuminating the room with a terrifying glow. Smoke filled the air, stinging my eyes and forcing me to cough violently.

I looked down at Damien’s mother, her body limp beneath my hands. The woman who had abused him for years, who had twisted his world into something dark and painful. I could feel her pulse beneath my fingers, weak and fading. In that moment, part of me hesitated.

I could help her. I could try to drag her out of here, away from the flames and smoke that were closing in around us like a tightening noose. But as I stared at her face, I felt something shift inside me.

No. I couldn’t save her.

I let go.

The moment my hands released their grip on her throat, an unfamiliar sense of freedom washed over me. I staggered back as the fire raged on behind me, heat enveloping my skin like an angry embrace. The weight of everything I had done pressed against my chest, but it felt lighter now that she was no longer under my control.

She would never stop if she survived this. The thought echoed through my mind like a warning bell, urging me to move faster, to escape this place before it consumed us both.

As I stumbled toward the door, smoke curled around me like tendrils seeking to pull me back into darkness. My heart raced; each beat felt loud and frantic in the chaos surrounding us. With every step away from her body on the floor—the body of a woman who had caused so much pain—I felt a surge of strength.

I stepped outside, the cool morning air rushing over me like a balm against the heat of the flames that still flickered in the house. My lungs burned as I gasped for breath, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The adrenaline surged through my veins, mixing with the dread that clung to me like a second skin.

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