Hailey
My eyes snapped open in the middle of the night, the dryness in my throat unbearable. I dragged myself out of bed, reluctant to leave the warmth of the covers, but my dry as fuck throat was a relentless, burning reminder that I couldn’t rest. Slowly, I made my way downstairs, rubbing my eyes as I stumbled into the kitchen. I filled up my water bottle, but just as I twisted the cap, an excruciating twist inside my head stopped me in my tracks.
Scenes flashed before my eyes-screams, shouts, the stinging slap of his hand across my face. And then crushing numbness that followed, the silence ringing in my ears after each brutal punch. My body felt like it had been bruised from the inside out, the pain lingering for days.
But then, my mind took me to the worst memory-my mother, half-dead, lying on the floor. And there I was, a little girl, clutching my doll and staring at her, at him. A man I had recognized as a monster before I even understood what that meant.
Anger crept up my spine, my chest tightening, and pain swelled inside of me. Tears burned in my eyes as I leaned against the counter, trying to steady my breathing-but it didn’t work. My hands shook, and all I wanted to do was run and hide, to curl up somewhere small and invisible. In the closet. Under the bed or behind the door.
“He doesn’t exist anymore…” I whispered to myself, trying to hold on to control. “Calm down, Hailey. He’s gone. He can’t come back.”
But the tears kept falling. Just when I thought I would lose it, I heard the door creak open. My eyes flicked to the figure who entered. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his gaze locked on my face, his expression shifting as he saw the tears.
Without a word, Damien stepped toward me. His hands gently cupped my face, and he wiped my tears with his thumbs, his touch so tender, as if I might shatter if he pressed too hard. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice low, filled with concern. “What happened?”
I shrugged, trying to mask it, but my breath betrayed me. “It’s nothing. Something just went inside of my-”
“Don’t give me that filmy bullshit, Hailey,” he cut in, his tone sharp. “I’m not buying it. Either you tell me what happened, or I’ll get the truth out of you.”
“Damien…” I whispered, the fight draining from me.
“Are you gonna tell me or not?” His voice was firm, dangerous even.
I took a shaky breath, knowing I couldn’t evade this. “It’s memories,” I whispered, barely audible. “They come back sometimes.”
I had made the mistake of thinking they wouldn’t, not with how busy I’d been with Damien, with this new life. But the past would always find me, no matter how far I ran.
“Memories about what?” Damien’s voice softened, and he gently turned my face to meet his gaze.
“My dad,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “He used to hit me and my mom. He hated us as much as he hated everything in his life. We were just burdens to him-burdens he didn’t want, especially when the money he spent on us could’ve gone to his drug addiction. He wanted us gone. And we had nowhere to go. Mom didn’t have any place to go or any job to pay for us. We’d homeless and mom didn’t want me to raised on the streets.”
I saw his eyes soften at my words, and he pulled me closer. He didn’t say anything, but the way his arms wrapped around me spoke volumes-safety, protection, care.
I’d never wanted to talk about it, never wanted anyone to know, but with Damien, it felt different. For once, I felt like sharing it would make me lighter.
“We were stuck,” I continued, my voice cracking as I looked at him, unbothered about the fact that he could see the tears in my eyes. “Stuck with a monster. And while mom was out looking for work, we had to stay with him. But then…. One day, it became too much. He was out of control, and we had to run. We took only the bare minimum and spent three days on the streets before mom got help from a friend. She didn’t want us there, though, and I felt it-even though I was too young to understand it fully.”
I wiped my tears, and Damien brushed my hair back, his touch comforting. “After a week at her place, mom found a job. She started paying that friend back for what we used. And eventually, we found a small place to live. We stayed there for a year, but I couldn’t afford to study, so I stayed home. Mom took me with her to work sometimes. The neighborhood wasn’t safe.”
I sniffled, and Damien wiped away my tears again, his expression unreadable. “We carried pepper spray and knives for protection,” I whispered. “It was terrifying. Mom stayed awake every night, watching over us. Then one day, we got the news-my dad had overdosed and died. Mom cried, but I didn’t. It was just… relief. Relief that he couldn’t hurt us anymore.”
I paused, the weight of the words heavy in the air. “Mom got money from his death, and she used it to enroll me in school again. We moved into a better place. It was better, but still… mom never smiled. It was always just her battling the world to keep me safe. And then, she met Coby.”
I smiled softly, despite the tears. “Coby brought my mom back. She started smiling again, laughing. She was my mom again, the woman she was before my father’s addiction took it all away.”
Tears streamed down my face, but for once, they didn’t feel like they were dragging me under. With Damien’s arms around me, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could breathe again.
Damien remained silent, just listening. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. I didn’t want to rush through the words, and for once, I was glad it was Damien listening, letting me say everything I needed to.
“Remember that day in the kitchen when you said my mom married Coby for money?” I whispered, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Well, believe me, she didn’t.”
Another tear fell, but I wiped it away before it could betray me completely. “She married the man who made her smile again. The man who made her feel safe, who kissed her forehead instead of giving her bruises. The man who held her hand, not pushed her down the stairs. Coby was the one she’d been waiting for her entire life. Neither my mom nor I ever cared about money. We struggled, yeah, but what we wanted most-what we needed-was warmth, security.”
I let the words sink in, meeting his gaze. “And I’d never trade that warmth for anything. I know how cold and terrifying life can be without it.”
Damien’s eyes softened, his thumb brushing away the last of my tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” I breathed out. “You weren’t supposed to know.”
His voice shifted then, low and chilling, carrying an intensity that made my heart skip. “If he wasn’t dead, Hailey…” His words sent a shiver down my spine. “I’d hunt him down and kill him with my own hands.”
I didn’t know whether I was supposed to feel comforted or disturbed, but in that moment, I felt a strange warmth spread inside me. Was I sick for feeling that way? I didn’t know. But part of me wanted to hear those words again.
“You don’t have to feel that way…” I said softly.
“I know,” he replied, voice thick with emotion. “But I fucking do.”
Before I could say anything else, Damien slid his hands behind my knees and lifted me effortlessly, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He didn’t stop, didn’t ask me if it was okay. He just carried me out of the kitchen and into his room.
I didn’t complain. I couldn’t.
He gently laid me down on the bed and climbed in beside me, pulling me into his arms. His warmth was a welcome contrast to the chill that had settled in me for so long. I didn’t speak, didn’t need to. I simply rested my head against his chest, listening to the soft, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and let the sound lull me into a deep, peaceful sleep.