Page 3 of Tear Me Down
In his defense, I was a little unsteady for the first few days. The medications I was on definitely made me a little loopy. Not to the point where I hallucinated, at least, I think, and I’m grateful that I didn’t embarrass myself in front of him. Well, that I know of. I can only imagine saying some off-the-wall stuff or making a complete fool of myself. No one said that I randomly started serenading my boyfriend. So, I'll take that as a win.
My stomach is definitely still sore, but it feels much better than it did, and I can breathe fine now. They took me off the oxygen on day three, but Damien made them keep it hooked up in the room in case I needed it. I didn’t, because I'm not eighty and was recovering well. Though, he’s been so distraught that he hasn’t let himself see that. I keep telling him I'm fine, but I think it’s really messed with him. He’s scared to take his eyes off of me, which I understand, to a point. He’s always been paranoid, much less before this happened, but now he’s on a highalert.
Everything they gave me at the hospital, he had to double check. Water? He drank it. The broth? He ate it first. Every pill, needle, and bag they brought in? He read it and asked a thousand questions. He’s going to drive himself crazy. Well, crazier, I should say, because the idea that he was completely sane before this happened is questionable. I do find it sweet, and I love how protective he is of me, but I don’t want his mental state deteriorating over it. His semi-sanity is one of the many things I love about him, but I don’t want him to be in any emotional pain.
Serena told me when he was in the bathroom my second day at the hospital, that when I saw him reach into his pocket the evening I was poisoned, he was getting out a ring. Then when he turned around, he saw me collapse and fall off the counter. That would be traumatic for anyone, and I can only imagine what he was feeling at that moment. With how deeply he feels, and how all-consuming his love is for me, I’m sure his pain from that day is insurmountable.
We haven’t talked about how he felt. Every time I ask if he’s okay, he just shuts down and turns the conversation around on to me, telling me that how I feel is more important and that he’s fine. I know that’s bullshit, but he’s trying to shut me out. A part of me doesn’t want to push him, knowing that it could potentially make him feel even worse, but he has to talk about this eventually. Suffering alone and plotting a massacre isn’t going to help him.
He hasn’t even mentioned the ring, or our other conversation that evening, and a part of me is glad that it’s also on his ‘do not mention’ list. Not about him proposing. I’d probably break down and cry, then try to scream ‘yes’ through my snot if he did, but the other thing…
The kids conversation…
It’s not that I’ve changed my mind or think differently of him or our relationship in any way, but maybe now isn’t the best time. Everything has become so chaotic and dangerous in the blink of an eye. I suppose for Damien, it has always been this way. But for me? This is a whole new territory. I don’t know how to handle myself in situations like the one we’re in—let alone adding a baby to it. If we could just wait a while so I could have some time to adjust, maybe even learn a few things about self-defense or that hyper-awareness thing Damien has, then it would be better. Hell, learning to shoot a gun would be beneficial at this point.
The last thing I want to do is let him down or break his heart, but we need to at least discuss it. We shouldn’t consider bringing a kid into this when we’re not prepared for what can happen. Even just from the events of the past week while I was rotting in a hospital bed doesn’t seem like prime time for a child. If Damien wasn’t lying in bed with me or trying to make me laugh, he was in full attack mode. Barking out orders, negotiating with his dad, and working on his laptop for any information, or money, he could find to fund this ‘war,’ as he calls it.
Zeke acted out and did something on Damien’s behalf, since he wouldn’t leave the hospital. He swiped one of Dust’s big-time dealers off the street and executed him on a live feed Carter broadcasted into the drug warehouses that started to pop up. He was disguised, of course, sothey couldn’t see what he looked like. He’s about the same height and build as Damien, so I’m assuming it was believable.
Claiming to be DH, he stated that the more ‘innocent lives’ attacked would mean more of his men dead, and that he went after the wrong people and would be punished for it. He hopes that it takes some of the suspicion off of us, and he seems to think it did. That, on top of sending Tony over to the hospital to take a bogus police report and a few witness statements, seemed to have worked.
Carter said the moles they have in place called and told them about how Hugo is freaking out, wanting to find ‘the real DH’ and how frustrated Dranan is. He doesn’t want anything else happening before his big party tomorrow night for all of the business owners. They even relayed how Hugo has some special guests coming and is preparing the whole organization for them. We’re not sure who they are, but that makes it more appealing that we go as we had originally planned.
Well, it’s still tempting to Zeke, Alex, and Carter. That’s what we’re talking about now. They’re trying to convince Damien that we should still attend.
“No fucking way are we going!” Obviously, Damien does not agree with them. His harsh tone and tense stance makes that clear. I’m sitting on our bed, lying back against the headboard, and watching as the three of them try to approach him like he’s an angry bear—standing close enough to not seem threatening, but far enough away in case Damien pounces. Knowing my man? He’s about to.
“If you don’t, D, it’ll look suspicious. We have to make it look like you don’t know what’s going on. That’s why we had Tony come out and file a police report, remember?” Carter implores.
“Then I'll just fucking go. Get everyone else to cover the house and stay with her.”
“Damien…” I try to cut in, but I’m cut off by Zeke.
“All of the other small businesses know you two are together. It would look strange if she wasn’t there. Especially now that she’s discharged,” Zeke says.
“I don’t really give a damn about ‘what looks strange.’ No fucking way! We got home this morning! She was in the hospital for a week! She doesn’t need to be out at some party! I don’t care how weird it will look, he’s not getting anywhere near her!”
The men look to me with worried eyes. All except Damien, who’s pacing and clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white, clearly on the edge of a breakdown.
“Give us a minute, guys?” I suggest calmly, and they nod and walk out as I delicately stand, ignoring the pain that still radiates through my stomach.
“Ashia, it’s not up for discussion,” Damien says harshly, not bothering to look up at me. I continue walking up to him until I'm right in front of him, placing my hands on his chest.
“Hold me?” I watch his shoulders relax, as if my touch alone could calm his racing heart. “Just for a minute?” I ask softly, trying to remain placated for him. He wraps his arms around me, and I move my own around his neck, scratching the base faintly and leaning into him. His forehead comes down to rest on mine, and I feel a wave of relief as he takes a deep breath, inhaling me.
“I'll hold you forever,” he says more gently than before.
“I know. Just take a minute and breathe. You've been in fight mode for over a week. It’s not healthy. Please, just take a second to relax,” I plead.
“I can’t relax, I…”
I interrupt him.
“Yes, you can, and you need to.” I move my hand from his chest to his face and look into his saddened blue eyes. “I'm right here, baby. I am alive, and I am okay.”
“But you weren’t. You died right in front of me. And I… I couldn’t do anything about it…” he says with a strained voice.
“You can’t stop death, Damien. We all die one day, but I hope you know that I'll fight like hell to be with you as long as I can.”
