Page 53 of Tear Me Down
“Go. Upstairs.” He points to the side door and practically scolds me, eyeing me angrily like I embarrassed him. Is he serious? He’s seen how Robert has treated me the past few years, and I’ve dealt with it time and time again. I lose my cool ononeclient,onetime, and it’s the end of the world? Robert should be the one embarrassed, not Emmett or I.
I shake my head and jerk my keys off the desk, pushing past Zeke, Emmett, and a standing Charlie to head for the side door. I hear Charlie behind me putting his two cents into the conversation, and while I know he’s on my side, I don’t turn back around.
I’ve only felt this jittery a few times before, like I have enough physical energy to run a marathon, but not enough mental focus to see five feet in front of me. I can feel my heart beating out of my chest, and the rush of blood ragesover my eardrums, adding to the unsettling feeling as I climb up the stairs. The enclosed staircase seems much smaller than I remember, and it only continues to close in with every step.
Each creak of the stairs only adds to the crushing weight of my actions, and the burn-out is settling in. The courage I felt left me with nothing but remorse and exhaustion, and the realization that I should have just sucked it up is smacking me in the face. My reluctance for confrontation is probably the reason I have half of the clients I do, and that thought only makes me more upset. It’s not like it takes me more than ten minutes to cut Robert’s hair, and I only have to deal with him twice a month. I should’ve just dealt with it and moved on like I always do, but I’m tired of being treated like shit. My parents, Cooper, half of my clientele, and now most recently, my best friend, are all on that list. The thought almost makes me sick.
As I open the apartment door and walk in, I’m flooded with memories—some good, but mostly bad. It’s sad to think that the apartment looks exactly the same, even though all of my personal belongings are gone. Is that how little I cared? How far down I truly hid? The only things really missing are a picture of the Andersons and I, Ser included, and my cup of black flowers I collected from Damien. Everything else was laid out and waiting for me when I moved in, and technically wasn’t mine. There was no décor, nick-nacks, or anything to show any type of personality. Just a void like I felt back then, and am starting to feel like again recently.
Standing around the small space does nothing to comfort me. It’s just a shell, a sad reminder of the hole I was buried in. Nothing but a depressed, cheap, run down grave that I decided was the only place I was worthy of inhabiting. The derelict, dirty furniture looks polar opposite of where I live now, and I’m surprised I ever let anyone in here. Not that there were many people—just Ser, Emmett, and the Andersons—and that thought is pathetic in itself. The memories of them seize my thoughts, and a new wave of grief sets in.
My best friend is gone. She hasn’t called, texted, randomly shown up like she used to, and she won’t answer me. Richard and Marla both called me to ask what happened between us. Thankfully, Ser didn’t tell them anything, and I know I can’t either, but it’s hard not to when they don’t understand. Hell, I don’t even understand.
We’ve been together through everything. Every heartache, every blow life has thrown at us, and every wrong deed, we’ve handled alongside each other. Swore up and down that nothing would tear us apart, and after twenty years of holding onto that like an oath, it disappeared like it didn’t mean anything. Carter has seen where she’s still gone to work, her apartment, apparently been out to a couple of clubs—she’s still living her extroverted life, and that only hurts more as I sit here and fade away without her.
I’m killing everything around me. The relationship with my best friend, my clientele I’ve worked so hard to maintain, and now Emmett is just as upset with me as I am with myself. I haven’t sang for Charlie in weeks, and I can’t even muster up enough strength to look at a man I just discovered was my brother—someone I’ve begged to have my entire life, but now I’m too unstable to handle it.
Maybe I am unhinged and going crazy. The past few weeks of recovery are finally catching up with me, and I’m exhausted. Between the nauseous feeling, the fatigue, constantly being watched—it’s all so much, and as I look around the apartment again, I realize that this might be the first time I’ve been alone since I was poisoned. Not that I haven’t had time to process, but I suppose it’s hitting me all at once now—coming to life with everything else around me and crumbling.
The door hasn’t made a noise, and the normal creak of the floors doesn’t ring out, but I feel him here. His presence cascades around me as it floods the room, instantly washing over me. He's a solace I've come to crave, even when I think I need to be alone. When I came up here, I thought I wanted to sink into my head without resurfacing until I knew the right answers, but I was wrong. I assume he was either watching the cameras or Zeke called him, but either way, I’m grateful he’s here, comforting me in a way he knows I need.
Damien’s arms snake around me, triggering the burn behind my eyes and lifting the floodgates. One tear runs down my cheek, and others quickly follow as I melt against him. Knowing that while nothing else around us may be right, thatthisis—my place with him and navigating through our storms together.
“She hates me…” I choke out through a sob, and he holds me tighter, trying to hold me in place as my body shakes.
“She doesn’t hate you, baby, she just needs some time.” He slides one of his hands up my arm and over my shoulder to cradle my face, caressing my jaw in the most tender motion.
“You didn’t see the look on her face. She seemed so disgusted with me… I feel so…off. Like nothing is okay. Not my body, not my head, what is wrong with me?” I’m not really sure if he can understand what I’m saying through my bawling—nothing but a cadence of weeps and cries.
He turns me around, only to immediately pick me up and move us to the couch. I curl up into a ball in his lap, burying my face in his neck as I cry, and he holds me so God damn tight that nothing could tear us apart. His hand rakes through my hair and down my back again and again, soothing a tiny bit of my anguish with every slow glide.
“There is nothing wrong with you, Ashia. You have taken everyone’s abuse your entire life. It’s okay to have a little retribution. As for your body…” He hesitates, and I know he’s been just as concerned as I have, which is only adding to his stress as well. “I’ll call Derrick and see if he can get you in today.” I shake my head in response, taking a moment to get myself together before trying to speak.
“It’s fine,” I say through small hiccups. “I know it’s going to take time to get back where I was, it’s just that on top of everything else I guess…” He nudges his face into mine, peppering me with small kisses as he continues his caress and whispers sweet praises in my ear—reassuring me that he has me, and that we’ll stay here as long as I need, that everything is going to be okay, and he’s going to make sure of it. While those words may seem generic, they mean more to me than he realizes. I know he means every bit of what he’s saying, and his conviction behind it is what matters the most.
I can feel my heart rate calm down, and the shakiness in my limbs descends into a calm wade, no longer wracking my body. After a few inhales of his intoxicating sandalwood and white musk scent, I can feel myself slip into a peaceful state, fading away as he lulls me to a place of contentment. I’m not sure how long we stay like this, but I know it’s not enough. He pulls back softly and kisses my forehead before lifting my chin so I meet his loving stare.
“Zeke is going to take you home, okay? Go back to the house, take a nice bath, and try to relax. I’ve got one more thing to check on, and I’ll be right behind you. Okay?” My heart sinks a little, but I nod and sit up, taking a deep breath and steeling my spine for the chaos that awaits me downstairs. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll walk you out.” He helps me stand and takes my hand before leading me out of the apartment, hopefully for the last time.
Chapter nineteen
Damien
‘Haunted’ - Evanescence
My heart breaks as I watch her drive away. The tears slowed, and she stopped shaking, only for it to resurface when she saw Zeke again. I should be in the car with her, driving her home and comforting her, but she doesn’t need that right now. Unfortunately, what she needs is a tiny blonde woman with a shitty attitude and enough judgment to work on death row. I understand needing time to adjust and process everything that has happened, especially with someone who’s had an average life like Serena has. But what I don’t understand, and what is not going to fucking happen, is how she can cause my little wolf to revert to her trauma response of thinking she’s not worth the shit that comes out of a dog’s ass.
Robert will be dealt with, but unfortunately, the little blonde with sharp claws needs to be handled first. I should think this through before I storm into her apartment or her job, but I don’t really give a damn. Seeing Ashia’s tears and knowing I can’t take that pain away is killing me. I knew she was going to break eventually, and I’m glad Robert got a big middle finger to his ego, but his degradation was only the tip of the iceberg, and unfortunately, I have to dig deeper to truly help her.
Serena’s had enough space— enough time to party and push the love of my life out of her mind while Ashia’s been withering away. We may not like each other—hell, I’m almost sure I hate the woman—but to some extent, she loves my fiancé. It’s time for answers, and a lot of divine intervention, because I’m not sure how much patience I’m going to have once I see her.
I pull up the tracking app and shift to Serena’s signal, knowing that this could potentially put me in hot water with Ashia, but it has to be done. Maybe I can’t reconnect them or fix the hole this has left in her heart, but I can make sure that she knows where the line is drawn and force her to stick to it. If she doesn’t want to be involved with Ashia anymore, then she needs to make that crystal clear and stay far away from her so I can help her move on. This residence in limbo is going to tear her apart, and I can’t have that.
Shock stabs me in the chest when I pull her ping, and then curiosity takes over. Why would she be there? I haven’t even been to this location, and at least that tells me something. Perhaps more is on her mind than I thought, and her absence from Ashia’s life may be more complicated than I anticipated. I hop in the car and link the ping to my GPS before I put the car into drive and take off.
Trees and foliage pass by as I make my way, but I don’t pay attention. I’m focusing on the ping, making sure she doesn’t leave before I have the chance to confront her. This place is obviously symbolic in a lot of ways, andwhile it has nothing to do with me, it has everything to do with my little wolf and Serena. Just from what Ashia told me, Serena also has some connected memories here, and while I know that between my fiancé and Serena’s family, they tried to keep her as far away from this house as possible, a few moments slipped through—one instance being one of the worst days of Ashia’s life.
I pull up to Ashia’s childhood home, surprised to see Serena sitting with crossed legs on the sidewalk and staring blankly at the rundown building. The two-story house was clearly never occupied again after her parents’ death, and it’s obvious no one has bothered to work on the rotting property. The roof line is caved in slightly, barely holding up the weight of the damaged shingles, the wood on the porch looks dry and cracked, the siding is hanging by a thread, and most of the windows are either boarded up because the glass is shattered and missing, or they’re so dusty that no one can see through them.
