Page 5 of Hold Me Down
“No, he needs me!” I push through him rather harshly, and once I get clear of him, I slowly step up to Damien. My eyes drift to Ser, only briefly enough to jerk my head towards the door, signaling for them to leave. She doesn’t try to argue,thankfully, and drags Derek out of the room with her. With another small step, I turn my attention back to Damien and give him all of my focus.
Heisholding a gun, but it’s very lazy compared to how he normally would, and his shakiness will definitely play a factor in his accuracy if he decides to fire it. His chest continues to heave, and his other trembling hand is grasping the back of his hair like he always does when he’s too overwhelmed—normally when the darkness starts screaming at him.
“Damien?” I gently call out for him, and he draws a deep, shuddered breath. It almost knocks him over, but then a different feeling descends upon him. He straightens his stance and tenses, like he’ll barrel through anyone who gets in his way. Even though he doesn’t open his eyes, he raises the gun in the direction he heard the noise from—which means he’s unknowingly pointing it at me…
My heart drops to my stomach and I stop moving, not wanting to agitate him any further. Every bit of life is sucked out of the room, and the air turns stale.
“I HEAR HER! WHERE IS SHE?!” he screams again, and before I can respond, I see Zeke and Carter try to approach from my peripheral. I hold my hand out from my side, silently tellingthem to stay back. The last thing Damien needs right now is to be treated like a prisoner, and if he thinks he’s under attack, then he’ll surely lash out. When they stop, the room turns eerily silent. I can only hear his heaving breaths and the blood pulsing against my ears.
“Damien?” I say softly, trying to bring him out of this haze as gently as possible. “Baby, it’s me. I'm right here.” I take a very small step closer to him. His face twists in agony, and he almost drops the gun, but then he straightens it again like something is telling him differently—or more likesomeone.
“They said you were dead…” he sobs. “You can't be dead…” Tears start running down his cheeks, and it takes everything in me not to run up to him. My gut twists and rips apart at the sight. The whoosh over my ears only gets louder, and my head is pounding, but I fight to keep myself steady. If he hears the fear and sadness in my voice, it’ll only make him more upset. There’s no telling how he would react.
“I'm not. I'm right here, baby. Everything is alright now. I'm going to get closer. Okay? Just keep listening to me.” I take a few steps closer, and he moves the gun away slightly. It’s still pointed, just not directly at me anymore, and I let out a quiet, shaky sigh. “There you go, baby. That’s good. That’sreallygood. I’m going to keep moving, okay? Just stay with me.”
He whimpers and nods, and I can’t stop the hiccup that bubbles up in my throat. The pain on his face is gut wrenching… His face contorts even more and as he lets his own sob out, and I almost crumble at his feet. After a few intense steps, I stand directly in front of him, but I refrain from touching him yet. He looks so pale and cold, and I just want to wrap my arms around him and sink under a blanket until he never feels anything but warmth again. I know by the withdrawals and the sweating that he’s probably got a high fever, but the way he’s shaking tells me there’s a chill underneath the surface.
“Now, I'm going to reach up, and I'm going to touch you, okay? That way you can feel me right here,” I softly warn him, but he moves his face back slightly and shakes his head, trying to resist. He’s so far into that dark space that it’s like his mind is refusing to come back from it. I don’t know how else to make him see that I’m really here, and he’s really home. So, I move my hand up anyway. The moment my hand grazes his face, he trembles and releases a quaking sigh. “See, baby? I'm here.”
“When I open my eyes, you'll be gone… That’s how it always happens…” He chokes up and leans into my hand, like he can’t really believe that he can feel it.
That’s how it always happens…How many times did he dream of me? Did he call out for me, only to wake up and find himself alone? This pain in my chest is agonizing. Watching the man I love become so vulnerable and tortured is unbearable, and all I know is that it fuckinghurts. I clench my jaw to keep my face from twisting in pain, but I’m not sure it helps. Even as my bottom lip quivers, I fight to contain myself, knowing that he needs me to stay strong.
“You don't have to open your eyes yet—not until you’re ready. Take your time.” I run my thumb over his cheek and try to hold back the hot tears streaming down my face. His skin feels dry and rough, and his beard is just as parched, but as I wipe his tears and rub some of the dirt away, it’s like it peels off a layer of the hurt. He starts to breathe a little easier, and the tautness in his muscles starts to fade.
“I’ve missed you…” he whispers, and that only makes my eyes sting even more.
“I’ve missed you too, Damien. It’s okay now. No one is going to come between us again,” I promise him, and Imeanit. It doesn’t matter what it takes anymore. If he wants to keep us locked away in this house for the rest of our lives, then so be it. Once he’s healed, if he wants to move far away, consider it done. He’sfought enough, and lost enough, in this life that I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he can live the rest of it in peace.
He nudges his nose into my hand, and I hesitantly raise my other. I’m still careful not to move too quickly, but now that he’s starting to calm down, Ineedto get that gun from him. If he hurts anyone in this house right now, it will kill him, and I’m not sure if we could ever pull him back from that.
“I'm going to take your gun. Okay, baby? You don't need it anymore. You're safe now.” I raise up and gently lay my palm on top of the gun before curling my fingers around it. “You’re home, and you're okay. Just keep breathing for me, alright?” I try to gently remove it from his hand, but his grip tightens. So, I don’t force it.
He hasn’t been able to trust anyone in a month. Everyone that was around him was trying to kill him, and he suffered insurmountably. I want him to feel safe, but I also can’t let him hurt the people he loves. We take a few moments and soak in the silence. Just like he does for me, I take a few deep breaths with him, allowing him to realize that he’s not in danger anymore. I hate treating him like a wild animal, but Damien’s fight response is not something to question. He’s proven how capable he is when he’s cornered, and I know that if it were him against us, he would win. Once his face falls a little deeper into my hand, and he takes another deep inhale, I force myself to try again.
“Damien… I know it’s hard, but I need you to trust me. Youaresafe. I’mnotgoing to hurt you.No oneis going to hurt you, okay? Let me have the gun, baby…” I step into him a little more, and as he breathes through his nose, he releases the gun. The moment it falls into my own, a wave of achievement crashes into my chest. He’s trusting me, and that’s the biggest leap towards a win we’ve had in weeks. My hand slowly moves away from his, and I push the pistol behind me so someone can take it from my hands. It’s almost immediately that I feel someone behind meas it slips through my grasp, but then just as quickly, the extra presence is gone. “That’s great, baby. You're doing so good,” I praise him.
“God, I can even smell you…” he shakily speaks, and then he inhales through his nose again like he can’t get enough of it. He breathes me in like I’m the only thing keeping him standing.
“That’s because I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere.”
He finally releases his hair and places that hand on top of mine, molding it to my touch against the shape of his face. His grip is soft, almost hesitant, and then he presses in a little more. It makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter back to life, until his jaw tenses up. His teeth grind beneath my palm, and as more tears leak from his eyes, pain overtakes him once again.
“The baby…” he whispers, and my stomach flips. It hits me then. If he thought I was dead, then obviously that means he thought the baby was dead too, and I suddenly feel really guilty and stupid. How could I not have realized that before? I take my free hand, gently grab his, and move it to my belly—that’s clearly much bigger than it was the last time I saw him. His hand immediately curls around the shape of it, and he releases another heavy breath.
“Sheis perfect…” I reveal, and the moment is bittersweet. My heart swells, knowing that he was the first to know, just like we wanted, but then it cracks with the circumstance. It didn’t happen the way it should’ve, but just being able to tell him and feel his hand on me is everything I’ve needed this past month. It certainly doesn’t take the pain away, but it just might soften the blow just a little.
His eyes shoot open once he processes what I said, and the moment his chaotic blues focus on me, his pupils expand. He gasps so harshly that I can see his chest practically close in on itself, like seeing me again defied God. His bottom lip quivers, and that’s when I finally break.
“Imagine that. You were right again,” I sob. Before I can even finish the words, he moves his hand from mine, laces his fingers in my hair, and yanks me as close as he can. I wrap one of my arms around his neck and run my fingers over his matted hair with the other, clinging to him without any intention of letting him go. My face immediately finds his neck, and I bury myself so deeply against it that I can feel his pulse on my cheek. It’s so relieving that my legs feel weak once again. He grasps the back of my head with the same hand and wraps his other arm around my body to squeeze me even tighter, so he holds me as securely as I am him. His face burrows into my hair, and he takes a breath so deep that I’m afraid he’ll choke himself.
“The car exploded. I saw it…”
“We weren’t in it,” I reply and shake my head, wanting to ease his pain as much possible. “We were in the Charger. We’re okay.” I feel his body shake with sobs as he falls to his knees. I don’t even try to keep him up. I just fall with him. He needs to know it’s okay to break—to feel how he needs to. It’s okay to feel this pain. His strength can waver. He doesn’t need to be this beacon of power that everyone sees him as. Until he gives into it, he won’t be able to heal.
I can hear the guys shuffling behind us, like they want to walk in and help, but I just shake my head again. They don’t need to interrupt. I’ll stay like this as long as he needs us to, and then probably a little longer for good measure. His grip on me doesn’t falter, but as I move my hand to his back, he tenses. I can feel the wounds under my palm, so I don’t move much, but I hold him as tightly as I can without hurting him.
The fear running through his mind is similar to mine. He needs to know that I will never look at him any differently than I did before, and now I see how he feels for me so clearly. It feels so stupid in hindsight—how I thought he could ever stop loving me. Scars don’t change what’s underneath the skin. Knives can’tsever a connection, not like ours. The people behind our torture don’t have the ability to take that away from us.
