My eyebrows knit in confusion at his response. “You’re not?”
He gives his head a little shake. “No. He was a terrible man.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what else to say to that. “Terrible how?”
“He was physically and emotionally abusive to my mom. That’s why she left him. And he was to me, too, but I never told my mom about it.”
“Why not?” I don’t mean to interrupt him, but the question just slips out.
He gives a little shrug, like it’s no big deal. “I didn’t want to add to her suffering. Plus, he enjoyed reminding me that no one would care enough to stop him. No one loved me enoughto give a shit. He got off on making me feel small and alone. Made sure I knew the only love I deserved was what he had for me, and that wasn’t really love at all.”
What do you even say to someone who has gone through this? I’m sorry doesn’t feel like enough, and there’s also nothing I could have done to help him. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for him. My parents aren’t particularly affectionate, and my dad can be strict at times, but neither of them would ever hurt me like that. I want to go back in time and give little Damon a hug, tell him his dad is wrong and he is loved.
The best I can do now is be here for him, to listen to his story and make sure he knows he’s not alone now. So I grab his hand and hope it provides some comfort.
He squeezes it in acknowledgment, giving me a little side smile. “Anyway, as I got older, I realized he was just a terrible man who enjoyed making people feel weak and small, and no matter what he said, the way my life turned out was entirely up to me. It was my responsibility to be a better man than him. I did what I could to take the brunt of everything so he would leave my mom alone, and luckily he never touched Alyssa. Then, thankfully, my mom divorced him and we were free.
“But I always had his voice in the back of my head. Telling me I’m a fuckup, that no one could ever care about me.Despite knowing what he was doing, I can’t help but feel like he was right sometimes. That no one will ever care to know me, that I’ll always be alone.”
A few tears have escaped Damon’s eyes, tracking slowly down his cheeks. My heart aches for him, and I get the urge to reach out and wipe away his tears, to tell him how much I care about him. But I don’t want him to stop sharing his story with me, so I stay still and silent.
He takes a deep breath, like he’s recentering himself, before speaking again. “And today, my mom told me he died. Said it was a drunk driving accident. He was the drunk driver, and thankfully no one else was hurt. I hadn’t thought about him for a while, and when she told me, it just stirred up all those feelings I had tried to push away, to get over. It all came rushing back, and I just broke. But then I started laughing, because I’m finally, completely free. He’s dead, and I feel like I’ve taken a full breath for the first time in my life. He can’t hurt me, can’t hurt anyone, ever again.”
I take a moment to process everything Damon just told me. It breaks my heart that he’s ever felt like that. He’s one of the kindest, funniest people I know. And to know that it’s all despite what happened to him makes me respect him even more. A lot of people who are hurt like that end up hurting others, but I know Damon could never.
I squeeze his hand, and he looks up at me. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that, Damon. You didn’t deserve it, no one deserves that. I’m glad he’s dead, too. And if he wasn’t, I’d kill him myself.”
He lets out a little laugh, and warmth spreads through my chest. I’ve always loved Damon’s laugh. “Thanks, Vi. Thanks for saying that and for listening. Sorry I put all that on you.”
“It’s okay. We all need help carrying our burdens sometimes.”
I look around his room, unsure of what to do now that he’s dumped all of this. I want to stay and comfort him, but I’m not sure if he wants that.
He purses his lips and sits up straight. “Do you . . . um . . . Do you mind hanging out for a bit longer? I don’t really want to be alone right now.”
“Of course.” I’m relieved he asked; I don’t want him to be alone right now either.
He lies back on his pillow, making space for me next to him. I curl up next to him, finding familiar comfort. Every time we all watch a movie together, I always find myself with my head on Damon’s chest, seeking his warmth and the steadiness of his rhythmic heartbeat. His fingers play with the ends of my hair, and we lie there, both okay with the silence that settles between us.
After a while, his breathing starts to even out and his body relaxes. I stare at his peaceful, sleeping face for a minute before I gently untuck myself from his arm and get out of bed.
On his desk is an open notebook. I grab a pen and leave him a note that I hope he’ll take to heart.
You are not alone. -V
•••
Present
“Damon?” I whisper as my fingers trace my handwriting over his heart.
“Hi, Violet.”
My name still sounds so sensual coming through the voice modulator, and I think for a moment I can almost recognize Damon’s familiar cadence underneath it. I can’t believe I just hooked up with my best friend’s brother, without even realizing it was him. This explains why I felt so safe with him, though; Damon always made me feel that way.
Panic seizes me as I think of what Aaron would do if he found out I just hooked up with Damon.
“I-I’m not . . . I have to go.” I hop off the table and adjust my skirt. My legs wobble underneath me—whether from the intense orgasm I just had or from the fear now coursing through my veins, I’m not sure.
