Page 77 of Surviving the Merge
“Damon, stop! Please.”
“She took him from me!” He struck the wall again. “Benji was mine!”
I held my breath. Whatever this was, he needed it. I remained removed and allowed him to have it.
“Thatbitch,” he forced out.
Blood poured down his hand unchecked, and all I could do was stand by and watch as he tore the room apart, piece by piece.
When he finally lost steam, the bed frame was a pile of splintered wood, springs breached through holes in the mattress, feathers from pillows littered every inch of the floor, and the mirrored headboard had been shattered. I was afraid to investigate the cause of the water leaking from under the bathroom door. There were a few more holes in the wall, and there was blood on every surface.
He approached me on shaky legs, as if only now remembering my presence. “I’m so... tired,” he said.
“I know, baby.” I ran my hand through his sweat-slicked hair. His eyes began to shudder, signaling a switch. “Damon, stay with me.” I lightly slapped his cheeks.
“I... I... can’t... the... the anger. It’s turning… into something else. I can’t.”
Damon was seeking his shelter. He was looking for ‘poppa’ to save him.
“Where is he?” he questioned, moaning and holding the sides of his head. His eyes started to roll back, and he fell weakly into me.
I took us to the floor. “Damon. Damon, talk to me.” I touched his neck and released a sigh when I felt a steady pulse, but his skin burned. I laid him down as best I could and retrieved the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink. After tending to his wounds and cleaning him up, I rested his head in my lap and silently cried for him. For the boy he used to be and at times still was. I cried for Benji and even for the one person who should have done better by them both but didn’t. I cried for them all.
Sometime later, Damon stirred in my arms. Looking at me, he sighed and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
I found my bag within the mess and quickly changed before leading him out, peering into the room from the hall, I said my goodbyes to this part of my past. That night would be our last time in that place.
We went out the rear exit to draw less attention to ourselves and drove my car to the condo. Blake took a car service to Elite, predicting that Damon and I would want to ride back together. Under better terms, I’m sure. The roads were pitch black, and the only sound keeping us company was the swooshing of the windshield wipers. I stole a few glances over at Damon every few minutes, and each time, he was staring unseeingly out the passenger side window.
Driving into the garage, I threw the car in park and announced that we were home. When that didn’t get a reaction, I reached to unbuckle his belt.
“Don’t touch me,” he barked.
When we walked through the condo doors, he beelined for the stairs, telling me in a robotic tone, “I want to be alone.”
Damon never wanted to be alone.
“I’ll be here if you need me.”
“How can you be here when you’ve already left?” he asked, ascending the steps. His voice was hauntingly cold.
Exhausted and shook up by the whole ordeal, I flopped down onto the sofa, rubbing my temples. Praying for sleep to take me.
* * *
“Justin.”
“Hmmm.”
“Justin, wake up.”
I squinted. Blake stood above me, wearing an alarmed expression. “What time is it?” I asked, sitting up and swinging my legs to the floor.
“Three in the morning. You’re bleeding,” he said, bringing a hand to my cheek.
“It’s Damon’s blood. I’m fine.” Pinning him with my stare, I noticed that he was clean, with a fresh bandage wrapped around his right hand. Damon must have showered before going to bed.
“At least it’s not the hand I sign checks with,” he said, trying to make light of it, but I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
