Page 59 of Sticks & Serpents

I knew who sent that box. The thought pierced through the fog of panic like a blade.Damien.

His name tasted bitter on my tongue. The realization sent another wave of nausea crashing over me.

Damien did this.

He had crossed every line imaginable, and somehow, he had done it all for me. The depths of his obsession curled around my heart like a serpent, squeezing tighter with every breath.

My mind spiraled through a maze of disbelief and fear. I thought about the rage that had transformed him into something terrifying—something powerful enough to silence another person forever. A cold chill settled deep within me at the thought of what he was capable of.

The images from last night flashed before my eyes—his fury when he had found that guy with me, how quickly he turned violence into an art form just to protect what he claimed was his. A shiver ran down my spine at the memory of his hands on me—rough yet possessive—and how that duality left me feeling torn between desire and horror.

He didn’t just want me; he wanted to own every part of me—even if it meant eliminating anyone who dared come close.

I pushed away from the sink, fighting against the urge to curl up into a ball and disappear. I couldn’t let him control me like this—not again. But as I stood there trembling, uncertainty gripped me harder than ever before.

What would he do next?Would this be the beginning or end of something darker?

I gripped the counter, my knuckles white against the cool surface. My breath came in quick gasps, heart racing as the reality of what I had just uncovered slammed into me like a freight train.

I need to leave.

The thought pounded through my mind like a war drum. The bathroom felt too small, too suffocating. I needed to get out, to escape this madness that had wrapped itself around my life like a vise.

I need to go to the police.

The idea twisted in my gut, but something held me back. What would I even say?

But I didn’t move. My feet felt glued to the floor as panic twisted into paralysis.

Because the worst part? Some deep, dark part of me wasn’t scared. It whispered seductive lies, wrapping around my fear like a warm blanket on a cold night. That part of me felt… protected.

Protected by Damien’s fury and violence; it ignited something inside me that I couldn’t quite grasp but desperately wanted to explore. The possessiveness he exhibited clawed at something buried deep within—something that craved intensity and passion even if it was twisted and dangerous.

A shiver coursed through me at the thought of his eyes—dark and stormy—filled with an unyielding determination when he confronted that guy last night. I could still hear the thud of flesh against flesh echoing in my mind, feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins as he’d claimed what was his with ferocity.

What is wrong with me?

It sickened me, yet it exhilarated me at the same time. How could I crave his protection while knowing the darkness he carried within him? The contradictions churned inside my mind like a tornado, pulling everything apart while simultaneously drawing me closer to him.

I pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the counter, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over as shame washed over me in waves. What had become of us? What had become of me?

The line between fear and desire blurred until I could hardly see where one ended and the other began.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the girl looking back felt like a stranger. My skin was pale, almost ghostly, and dark circles hung beneath my eyes like heavy shadows. I looked wrecked—hollowed out, as if someone had siphoned away every ounce of light inside me. My heart raced beneath the weight of the silence, pounding like a war drum against my ribcage. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or something worse—something darker that sent a thrill through me at the thought of Damien.

A sharp knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts.

“Holly? Everything okay?” My father’s voice sliced through the air, steady and authoritative.

I forced myself to breathe, trying to steady the wild rhythm of my heart. Clearing my throat felt like an impossible task, but I managed to push out words that sounded normal. “Yeah. Just—just getting ready.”

With shaky hands, I stepped back into my bedroom, keeping my gaze averted from the small black box sitting ominously on my desk. I couldn’t let him see it—not now. Not ever. The last thing I needed was for him to question what had me so shaken up or why I looked like I’d just clawed my way out of a grave.

As I crossed the threshold into the room, everything felt wrong. The walls closed in around me like they were trying to suffocate whatever fragile sense of control I had left. I glanced at my bed, messy sheets tangled together as if reflecting the chaos inside my mind.

I could still hear Damien’s voice echoing in my head—the way he’d claimed his ownership over me so fiercely.You’re mine.Those words resonated deep within me and ignited a spark of something that both terrified and exhilarated me.

But now wasn’t the time for those thoughts to spiral out of control again. I needed to focus on appearing composed and unaffected when all I felt was this raging storm within me.

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