Page 1 of Anger

Amélie

I’m just a dancer in a cage. A woman desperate to hold on to a life that is becoming more difficult every day. But I love to lose myself in the music, I can escape within the fast tempo and beat. During the hours I dance at Myth, I can pretend that nothing is wrong ,and my life isn’t falling apart.

Every night I strap on my black angel wings, shake my ass, and I forget the world around me.

At least until the night an angry man showed up and couldn’t stay away from me.

He wore chaos and rage as a shroud, all of his secrets hidden behind a set of enigmatic amber eyes that pulled me in.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I followed him to the back rooms. From there, the nightmares started.

Never let Damon’s friendly demeanor fool you. It’s only an act to hide what’s really inside him.

I found out the hard way what it means to make a deal with the devil. I thought he was the answer to fixing my life, but what he asked for in return was too much to bear.

I had no choice.

He refused to give me one.

And because of the choices he made for me, my life was changed forever.

Damon is a man haunted by secrets.

He’s a storm that consumes every person around him.

I stood within that storm and faced him down. I was consumed by his secrets and chose to fight against them.

We all have our scars.

I knew that and wanted to know all of his.

But some scars run so deep that they tear us apart when the truth of them is spoken.

I was just a dancer in a cage… At least until a man I knew was trouble walked into my club.

. . .

Damon

Past

I’ve never been good at expressing myself. It’s like a million thoughts swirl around my head, always spinning but never settling down enough for me to make sense of them.

It’s even worse trying to tell another person what I’m thinking or feeling.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve been knocked around too much. All those hits to the head can’t be good for the melon. My skull is more of a hard shell that keeps my brain in place but doesn’t protect it.

Then again, it could all be part of growing up that made my thoughts difficult for me — that makes speaking difficult or even just simply feeling.

I was a happy kid. A little too happy, now that I think about it. My family wasn’t the best and my parents were never around, but the nannies were nice, and I was given everything I wanted.

Most importantly, I had my twin brother. We were inseparable. Two halves of the same whole. We could speak our own language and know what the other was thinking without saying a word.

Our ability to connect like that is probably the only reason I’m still breathing today.

At eighteen years old, I’m about to graduate high school and head off to Yale. I’m about to escape a home that became a nightmare and a father who turned me into Anger and my brother into Violence.

We were beat down until we became the monikers assigned to us as members of the Inferno.

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