Damon's POV
"So, please stop with the big confessions of love. It's disgusting."
Yet another word reminding me of the painful past I'd tried to escape. If that was what she felt, surely it must be true. Who was I to think she could ever love someone like me?
"Thanks for being honest, and sorry for being a bore."
I'd hardly made it to the bathroom before my legs gave way, sending me crashing on the ground. I clutched my chest tightly, as the memories flooded me.
I saw my seven-year-old younger self running back to my room, body convulsing in fear as I hid under my blankets. I held onto the blankets tightly when I heard the door open. The silent footsteps made my heart thump faster and when the blankets were ripped away from me, I yelled.
Alan towered over me, the blood of the man I saw in his special room, splattered over his face.
"D-d..Dad," I cried.
"You disgraced me in front of my subordinates," he dragged me up, peering into my eyes.
"I don't- don't want to kill that man," I stuttered.
I stared at my hands that were coated with the man's blood. His face as he pleaded with me haunted me. The way his eyes rolled back as Alan sliced his gut made my stomach rumble and I held my mouth to keep the bile from coming up.
Alan's hand flew in the air and struck my face. I could feel the warm liquid seep down my pants, wetting my blankets. He shook his head in disgust.
"Ugh, disgusting," he shifted back.
My whole body shook as I clutched my pearls. The tears flowed down my face as I squeezed my legs together.
"How can I have such a coward as a son?!" he yelled.
I rubbed my hands together in panic, the tears streaming down my face.
"I-I..I'm sorry, Dad."
He walked closer and grabbed my neck. I hit his forearms vehemently, as I struggled to breathe.
"Dad, I c-ca... can't breathe."
His fingers tightened around my neck. "You bore me. I wish you were never born."
My eyes were starting to dim after my airflow was blocked for a minute, my body going limp. With one last hateful look, he released me. I gasped loudly, holding my throat as I coughed out my lungs. My eyelids fluttered, the strenght leaving my body.
"You'll stay here until you learn your lesson," with that he walked out the door and locked it, leaving me terrified and drenched in my own pee.
My tie felt like his hands, and I removed it quickly, gasping for air. I reached for the tap and turned it on.
"Breathe, Damon," a voice called gently.
"Mom?" I looked around but saw no one.
"Like we practiced. Inhale," she took in a deep breath, and I did the same.
"Good. Now, exhale," she let out a breath.
My racing heart came to a stop, before it resumed beating at its normal pace.
"You're okay. He can't hurt you anymore," her soft voice calmed my nerves as I stared at the mirror.
"Fuck," I yelled and landed my fist right in the glass, cracking my reflection.
The pain ate at me. Mom was dying and the woman I loved all but told me to go to hell. Words were incapable of describing what I felt. I needed to not feel. I needed to escape. I needed to get out of there. It hurt too much. I knew just exactly what would take the pain away, at least for some time.
I headed back to my office, retying my tie. I ignored her stare as I sat behind my desk.
The bar was where I went when I wanted to forget my troubles. I had not been there for a while because I was in a good place, or so I thought. I opened my drawer and stared at the 30-day red chip. I thought I was making progress but I guess not.
I shut the drawer. I needed a drink.
"You don't have to come with me tonight," I said.
"Where are you going?"
"The bar."
Away from you.
"I'm going with you."
The whole point was to get as far away from her as possible.
"That would not be necessary, Ms. Wells."
I didn't need her around me. I couldn't think with her near me.
"It's part of my job to always be by your side. I'm your bodyguard," she folded her arms.
That was a problem. I had to sort it out.
"Not anymore," I wore my jacket quickly.
I had to get out of there, before I lost the courage to do the needful.
Her arms went limp. "What's that supposed to mean?"
That was it. That was goodbye.
"You're fired, Ms. Wells."