Page 43 of In This Iron Ground
He let go.
**********
Damien settled in.
He became part of the household. He had chores, a bedtime, a toothbrush in the bathroom. He got to see the Salgados with bedhead and skin creased by pillows. He was there for all the squabbles, the fights. Mia and Cameron were pushed into yelling sometimes, mostly at Koko who challenged them the hardest. Damien would sit still and quiet and go somewhere else. He didn’t like people yelling, but he was used to the energy it caused.
One time, Hakan noticed and told everybody to stop. It was almost worse. Everybody was looking at him. He was almost fifteen. He didn’t need to be coddled. But the volume of their fights decreased after that.
Mostly, there was balance. Damien liked to take care of Lallo and Dee or spend time in the library with the ancient texts. He spent more time in Hakan’s and Koko’s rooms than his own, but it was nice to have a space for himself, too.
Even school improved. Simply having Olive to hang out with between classes made the whole school experience bearable. Olive warmed up to him surprisingly quickly after that first breach of defences, and Damien basked in every moment of the friendship.
Despite this, Christmas approached like a lumbering beast. In the nighttime hours that were dead and silent, a knot would tighten in his stomach. His nightmares worsened into fragmented, violent projections of his fears.
He woke up on one such night, sweaty and desperate, too disoriented to go downstairs for a drink. The images of the nightmare still clung to him. The fear, the feeling of being utterly alone. The endless distance around him that he would never be able to cross.
The rotting thing inside him.
He paced around the room, arms crossed, hands clutching at his elbows as he shook, the debris of adrenaline strewn inside him. There was something vulnerable in Damien that still dreamed of his parents waking up, of reversing the damage done.
But he was alone and sinking, sinking.
Damien froze as he heard a noise outside his door. Despite all that the Salgados had done to show that they were trustworthy, an instinctual fear remained. The door opened to reveal Hakan’s hesitant form. Damien breathed out in a rush, relieved, before turning away from him. He heard Hakan shuffle into the room before the door closed.
“Damien…”
“I’m fine,” Damien said quickly. “Sorry. Did I wake you?” He tried to strangle his voice into normalcy. He heard Hakan step closer and hunched into himself, wrapping his arms around his middle as Hakan’s hand landed softly on a shoulder blade. The contact was almost too much, bringing reality in. His lips trembled, teeth almost chattering, but he couldn’t pull away.
“What is it, Damien? What’s happened?” Hakan asked in that same concerned tone that made Damien feel like he was caught on a loop, repeating the same scenes, stumbling into the same pitfalls. Damien laughed wetly, shaking his head.
Hakan gently manoeuvred him to the bed, sitting them both down on the edge. The warmth of Hakan’s hand wrapped gently around Damien’s wrist, an anchor. The silence filled with Damien’s unsteady breaths. He could feel Hakan looking at him, his gaze the same unbearably gentle texture of his skin again Damien’s.
“Don’t go,” Hakan said suddenly. The words were said softly, but they hit Damien like a physical force, jerking him into looking at Hakan.
“What?”
“Stay with us,” Hakan said. “You said—when we were, when I found you in the forest, we said until Christmas, or the New Year. I don’t know if that’s what’s worrying you but…don’t go.”
Damien stared at him incredulously. Not that Hakan had guessed, but that he was so unreasonable in his demands, so flippant of the pain it would cause Damien when the inevitable end came.
Damien looked away, shaking his head. “Hakan…” he said, almost frustrated. Hakan’s hand around his wrist tightened marginally. Its pressure remained an anchor instead of a noose.
“Please, Damien. Stay,” Hakan said. Damien looked at him again, at his earnest, open face.
“Why?” Damien demanded.
“Because I—we—want you here.”
“That’s not gonna last,” Damien said, shaking his head again.
Hakan made a frustrated noise. “Do it for me, then. ’Cause I’m asking you to. Please. Stay.”
Damien’s whole body tensed up. He wanted to rage,Why?He wondered if Hakan knew how selfish his request was, unknowingly setting him up for a hard fall.
But the truth was, Damien was tired. He was exhausted beyond the sleepless nights. Exhausted of fighting against something he so desperately wanted. Of keeping the fear alive, of always being vigilant, always anticipating the hit.
Damien looked at Hakan’s hand around his wrist. “You don’t know what you’re asking me,” he said quietly. He felt Hakan shift beside him, could imagine the frown without having to look at his face. “Fine, Hakan. Fine,” Damien said before Hakan could reply. Telling Mia that he was leaving, throwing everything she had done for him in her face, had been an unrealistic plan anyway.
