Page 93 of Surviving the Merge
“You are not my therapist, Justin!” he snapped.
Effectively shutting me up. And I got it. I could almost hear the sound of something clicking into place in my head. I asked the question I should have asked from the beginning. “What do you need from me?”
He ran his hand down his mouth. “I need you to ask me if I’m okay with something that affects me this deeply before you go ahead and do it. You say the painting was a surprise. You, doing something nice. Well, I call bullshit. That painting was your way of pushing me toyournext level of my recovery.”
“If I would’ve asked you about bringing Benji’s remains here, what would you have said—”
“No.” His answer was immediate. “At first. You might have had to ask me again. We might’ve had to compromise on me going to him instead of bringing him so permanently to me. Which might have meant that it took me two months to get to where I am today instead of one month. But it needed to be my choice. It’s my recovery. I don’t want to start resenting you.”
“It’s not onlyyourrecovery, Damon.” I exhaled and conceded, “but you’re right. I should’ve asked. I’ll do so moving forward.”
He nodded, running a feather-light touch across the name etched into the urn. The silence stretched on, to the point of discomfort. His shoulders grew more tense by the second. He was working his way up to something. Never had I expected what came next.
“I killed her,” he whispered. “My mother. I killed her.”
Sucker-punched to the gut. That’s what those words made me feel. The air expelled from my lungs in one great silent heave. Sliding slowly from the arm of the couch until my rear hit the cushions, I worked on regaining my composure as Damon powered on.
“After discovering Benji on the floor, I went straight for her room. Operating on autopilot, I’d shut down my mind. I knew she was alive. That kind of malignant evil never contemplates suicide.
“She lay across her bed, soaked in his blood, drinking gin straight from the bottle.”
He came to rest on his knees in front of me, preparing to confess his sins, and wanting to see every nuance of my reaction to his recounting. If he believed he would see judgement or condemnation, he didn’t know me well at all.
“She started ranting at me. So drunk, I could barely make out her words. One thing I heard loud and clear, ‘It’s all your fault, and if I wasn’t so tired from cutting that little bastard up, I’d get rid of you as well.’ By my fault, she meant her sorry life. And even in that moment, at that age, I knew I wasn’t to blame for that. Whatwasmy fault, though, was the fact that my baby brother was spread all over the living room floor.Thatwas all my fault.”
Damon held a hand up, stalling my argument.
“I knew what she was. Knew her capabilities. And I wanted a break anyway. I wanted to go to the game with my friend; I had missed so many having to take care of Benji. Ash too because he never went without me. We both just wanted to be boys. Even when the alarm bells were blaring in my head, when I nearly got sick the further away from the house I walked. I went anyway.
“Ashton knew it too. He kept looking back, even when the house was no longer in sight. He thinks I don’t know that it still haunts him. That he still punishes himself for what happened because to move on would feel like a betrayal to me and my constant suffering. What kind of friend am I? I have yet to release him from his pain.”
“You need to first release yourself, Damon.” I reached up to touch his face, but he turned away from me. He didn’t turn back until I dropped my hand into my lap.
“‘The little fucker wouldn’t stop screaming, I should’ve started with his tongue,’” Damon repeated the words etched into his memory.
I beat back the bile that rose up my esophagus. If she was still alive, I’d murder her myself.
“What kind of mother does that to her own child?” he asked, desperate for an answer.
“Not a good one, baby. Not a good one.” I wanted to hold him. My palms began to burn. I’d been digging my blunt nails into them. Angry crescent moons formed on the tender flesh.
Damon’s eyes flitted to mine, and they held a wild coldness that sent a chill through me.
His voice dropped an octave, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “I got on top of her and unleashed all my pain. After I beat her face in, beyond recognition, I could still see her chest rising and falling as she grappled for air. I took off my belt, wrapped it around her throat, looped the other end around the railing of the canopy bed, and I pulled. I watched, mere inches from her disfigured face, as she struggled, with the small bit of life she had left, to live.”
Spittle flew as he spoke, landing on my bare chest, rolling down his chin. He looked monstrous, but I held his stare and refused to flinch.
“I can still remember the smell of piss and alcoholreekingfrom her. Some days I can still see and feel her blood running down my fingers to my wrists. I suffocated her long after the life left her one remaining functional eye. I regretted it right after. Not because I didn’t want her dead but because it was over too soon. I should have made her suffer longer. If I could have saved her, brought her back, so I could do it again, I would have.” He took a deep breath and worked his jaw.
We sat there in the stillness. Laying eyes on one another. I waited for a clue as to what he needed from me. Damon waited for something as well. I didn’t know what. His dark eyes hadn’t warmed any, and his breathing became frantic. “Damon, please…”Let me hold you.
“Do you... think it was wrong?” he asked.
His eyes softened, and I watched the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed audibly. He appeared so childlike, and I could no longer hold myself back from him.
Resting both hands on either side of his neck, I peered at him intently. “It couldn’t be more right. The bitch deserved it. I’ll never let you lose a night of sleep worrying about which side of righteousness you were on.” I stroked his pulse with my thumb. “I’ll never judge you. I’ll only ever love you. Fuck her, Damon.Fuck. Her.” I unconsciously squeezed, blocking his airway in my intensity. Damon relaxed a fraction, essentially placing himself in my hands.
Wait. “I thought she shot and killed herself?”
