Damien abruptly straightens, holding out his hand. “Phone.”
I hand it over, but even after checking the screen and pocketing it, he hums and audibly swallows, seeming uneasy. The words are on my tongue, ready to prompt him, but I keep my mouth closed, biting the inside of my lower lip.
“I don’t… feel things like other people.”
His voice is soft, hesitant, but his mimicry has fooled me before.
“Even my base emotions are blunted. Nothing ever lasts long. It drove my dad crazy that I wasn’t scared of him, so he hurt me, trying to rewire my brain so I’d be afraid.”
There’s a pause that stretches just a beat too long.
“We have this basement, carved into the hillside rock. It’s dark and water drips through the rock walls. Always cold, even in the middle of summer.”
Suddenly, his touch is gone. Damien wraps his arms tightly around his torso.
“He pushed me. I fell down the stairs, all eleven of them.” His tone remains flat, and I shiver, my imagination creating the basement’s likeness around me. “The stones are this rough texture, like pumice. They scraped skin off my back when I hit them, and my arm…”
A slight hitch in his breath, so subtle I almost miss it.
“I broke it. The bone poked through the skin. It was—” He laughs, shaking his head. “It was bad, and he left me down there. Honestly, it felt like days. I was unconscious when he bought me out, and between that and the painkillers…”
Damien straightens, pausing for a few seconds, then resumes in a stronger voice.
“An infection had set into the bone, that’s why all the scarring. They cut away all the dead tissue and stabilised it with metal rods. Sets off airport metal detectors half the time.”
I heave in a breath. Around me, the darkness, the dank rock dripping water, the walls closing in from all sides.
“How old were you?”
“Seven, maybe eight.” He shrugs. “Still in primary school, anyway.”
Seven?Just a boy. Baby teeth still falling out.
My fingertips rub across a splinter in the bench beneath me and I pick at it, letting it ground me back in reality. “And did it work? Are you afraid of him?”
“Yeah.” His voice cracks. “Yeah, it worked.”
He sounds lost…young… Still hugging himself for comfort. My fingers twitch, then my arms close around him. Squeezing tight while his body remains stiff, then slowly softens, returning the pressure.
When I pull back, he won’t let me, holding tight for another minute, then another, clinging… before he releases me all at once.
I cover his hand with mine, warming his cold skin. “Are you safe at home, now?”
“He’s not home today.” His voice alters again, almost playful. Like he doesn’t know who or what to be in this moment.
“You know what I mean,” I say softly.
“Yeah. As long as I do what he says, I’m alright.”
“And what does he ask you to do?”
“Right now?”
He faces me and just stares for so long I get self-conscious. Then he lifts me onto his lap like I weigh nothing, burying his face in the curve of my neck. His hand slips beneath the fabric of my blouse, splaying across my lower back.
“You don’t need your glasses, do you?” Already removing them with his free hand. “That’s better.”
I feel vulnerable without them. Probably why Damien took them in the first place, putting us back on level ground.
