Page 73 of Sticks & Serpents

Mrs. Sinclaire stepped even closer, invading my personal space as she leaned in slightly. Her voice softened to a sickly sweet tone that sent shivers down my spine. “You don’t belong in his world anymore.”

I swallowed hard, her words laced with venom that stung deeper than any physical blow ever could.

“Walk away before you break him again.”

Her final statement hung between us like a death sentence. In that moment, doubt gnawed at my insides; a familiar panic rose up from within me like bile.

I had come here to find Damien and confront him—to prove that I wouldn’t let him slip away again—but now? Now I questioned everything about why he shut me out in the first place and whether Mrs. Sinclaire was right about anything at all.

I didn’t know how I ended up back in my car. One moment, I stood facing Damien’s mother, and the next, I was slumped in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel like it was a lifeline.

My body moved on autopilot, as if some part of me wanted to escape before the truth sank in. The rain drummed against the roof, each drop amplifying the chaos swirling in my mind.

Did I do this? Did I really cause the scars? The damage? The darkness that hung over Damien like a shroud? Was that why he didn't want me to see them?

I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel, breath shallow and erratic. It felt like I was drowning in a sea of confusion and guilt. Every word Mrs. Sinclaire had spoken echoed in my ears, twisting and morphing into accusations that clawed at my insides.

You were his first love. And you ruined him.

The thought rattled around in my brain like a caged animal desperate to escape. I shook my head violently as if that would dislodge the weight pressing down on me.

She’s lying. She’s manipulating you. That’s what she does.

But what if she wasn’t? What if there was some truth buried within her venomous words? What if my leaving had sent Damien spiraling into this dark abyss?

The thought felt like a punch to the gut. How could I have done that? How could I have walked away when he needed me most? Each question only fed into another wave of guilt that crashed over me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts that tormented me like ghosts from my past—ghosts that were never truly gone but merely lay dormant, waiting for moments like these to resurface.

I took a deep breath, hoping to steady myself, but it didn’t help; instead, it filled me with panic. When he lashed out and pushed people away.

The weight of everything settled heavily on my chest as tears pricked at my eyes.

I leaned back against the seat, gripping the steering wheel as I replayed Mrs. Sinclaire’s words in my mind. Damien always told me to stay away from her. He warned me, time and time again, about the manipulation and games she played. But the way she spoke, the conviction in her voice—it felt too real.

Tears burned behind my eyes, threatening to spill over. I refused to be weak; I couldn’t let her win. Not today. Taking a deep breath, I focused on what I needed to do.

I reached for my phone and dialed Damien’s number, my heart racing with every ring. Each tone echoed in the silence of the car, a stark reminder of how far apart we had drifted since that night in the rain.

Straight to voicemail.

Frustration bubbled within me as I hung up, staring at the screen as if it would magically change the outcome of my call. My fingers hovered over his name again, but I forced myself to resist dialing back immediately. Instead, I took another deep breath and tried to think clearly.

What was he doing? Where was he? Did he even care about what happened last night? My chest tightened with anxiety as doubt clawed at my insides like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage.

Damien had made it clear—his mother was dangerous territory. Yet here I was, having just crossed an invisible line by allowing her words to penetrate so deeply.

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach; I wanted to scream at him for leaving me in this position without any warning or explanation.

But mostly?

I wanted him to come back and reassure me that everything would be okay—that his mother’s twisted perception of reality wouldn’t seep into our lives.

But as each second ticked by with no response from him, that reassurance felt more like a distant fantasy than an attainable reality.

Finally giving in to frustration, I dialed again—determined not to leave it at voicemail this time.

Damien,I thought fiercely as the phone rang once more—you better pick up.

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