Page 75 of Tear Me Down
“Damien?” I say softly as I try to round the counter. “When have you ever…”
“With you! I’ve been selfish with you, and deep down I know I shouldn’t be!” He interrupts me, talking with his hands while his skin flushes simultaneously, and I see the vein in his neck pop out. The moment the truth comes out, my heart seizes and locks tight.
I wasn’t prepared for that answer, and now I can’t put it back in the box.
“I love you so God damn much that I didn’t think of what being with me could do to you! I need you with me like I need air, but it almost killed you! It’s as if I’m suffocating you with the violence that surrounds us!” He yells. The tears forming in his eyes make mine sting in return. The depths of his self-hatred reach deeper than I thought, and it’s branched out into our relationship.
Not once did I ever think he would question our connection, or wonder if he was good enough, and now I can’t help but feel as though I’ve failed him as well.
“If I wasn’t so God damn selfish I would've put your needs before mine! The moment I pulled you out of Cut Me Down I should have…” He stops and swallows harshly as he realizes what he's about to say, the realization in my head draws in chills that send my hands and vision shaking. A tear runs down my face before I realize my lips are quivering as well.
“You should’ve what, Damien...? Let me go...?” My voice cracks as much as it shakes. “You should've left me...?”
No.
He couldn't mean that.
He's drunk, that's all.
After everything we’ve been through, he doesn’t mean this. How could something so beautiful, so right, start to feel wrong for him? Does he truly believe that I would be safer or happier without him?
“You feel guilty being with me...?” I already know the answer to that question, but I need to ask anyway.
“Yes, Ashia! How many dangerous situations have you been in because ofme?! How many times could you have died?! You should be running from me! As fast and far away from me as you can! Regardless of how we feel for each other, I'm not good for you!”
“You’re right, you’re not good for me, Damien, you're perfect for me!” I yell back.
“I shouldn’t be!”
“Why?! Do you not think I can handle it?! Handle you?! I’ll say it over and over again if I have to, I want this life with you, Damien, no matter what it throws at us! I'm not scared!”
“YOU SHOULD BE!” he screams,tryingto scare me—trying anything to make me feel different about him, but that’s not going to happen. Even as he storms up to me and grabs the top of my throat in a show of faux aggression. His eyes look dangerous, but I'm sure not to break eye contact with him. I know him better than this, and while he probably hates himself more for this display of anger, it only makes my heart beat faster for him. It races, but only because I wish he’d kiss me standing like this. I want to kiss him so harshly that he’ll never doubt our connection again, so I convey every ounce of confidence I have in him and us.
“You wouldneverhurt me,” I proclaim, sure to put certainty behind my words.
“But everyone else would! And they will! They’ll come for you and mutilate you just to get to me! They already have! You are just as much of a target as I am! Just because I love you…” He releases my throat and starts to pace the area between the small island counter and the stove range, looking like a caged animal about to break out. With a surprising jolt, he throws his whiskey glass across the open room, not waiting a moment to hear it shatter against the wall before he turns back to me. “So, you run! Run as far as you can from me before something else happens to you! Iwon’tchase you!”
Okay, now I’m pissed.
Those last few words hit somewhere deep in my psyche, echoing through my head and angering me to a level I haven’t felt with him before.
“You don’t mean that!”
“Yes! I do!” Those words hurt more than anything else he’s ever said, because even as hard as he’s trying to convince me, it’s not working, and it’s only bringing my past issues to the surface. He would never let me go, I know that. But I also know what honesty means to him, and iflyingis the level he’s willing to play at to get me to leave him, he’s hurting more than I anticipated.
I turn in anger to walk back into the bedroom, knowing that we need to take a moment to calm down, but I only make it back to the doorway before I stop. I told myself I was done feeling this way…wanting to run and hide until the situation settles or is forgotten completely. He won’t get any peace tonight, not while he’s thinking those bullshit thoughts. He’s not leaving me, and he sure as hell isn’t going to try and convince me to leave him. It doesn’t make any sense. I know without a shadow of a doubt he loves me. Even throughout his entire tirade he said it over and over again, and I know that he’s so obsessed with me that my presence in his life is an overwhelming need for him, just like he is for me.
There’s no running. No settling or waiting it out his time. We’re going to figure this out here and now, and if he even thinks for a second either one of us is going anywhere, then he’s seriously lost his mind. I turn back around and march up to him, feeling the heat of anger course through me. My limbs are still shaky, but now it’s because there’s nothing but determination running through my veins.
“You know what?” I provoke, and he looks up at me from the floor with tears in his eyes. That sight almost breaks me, but I push through—not allowing his self-loathing to stop me. “No. You're not going to talk about leaving me. You're not going to tellmeto run. If you want to leave me, then you tell me like a fucking man, but not until you hear me out!” His muscles tense, but his face falls even more. I stare at him with a firm gaze to prove my point.
“Ashia…”
“I said you’re going to hear me out!” I demand again, feeling a small amount of pride at my confidence, but that’s what he’s done to me—proven that I can speak my mind without the fear of physical backlash, he just probably never assumed I’d use it on him.
He still tries to appear angry as I inch closer to him, gritting his teeth and crossing his arms against his chest, but all I feel from him is misery and longing. I walk up to him as close as I can get, close enough to smell his harsh scent that immediately puts me on cloud nine.
“I don’t care that I almost died! I don't care that you kill people! I don’t care that some drug lord tried to kill me! You know why I don’t care? Because I haveyou!” I confess. He looks away briefly, and his resolve falters ever so slightly before he looks back at me with narrowed eyes and tight lips, letting a sliver of what he really feels poke through. I keep going, hoping that I’m reaching deep into the part of him that needs to hear me.
