Chapter 4

I wonder if she’s still there. Maybe she’s still sitting inside the library, hunched
over herself, alone. Maybe she left and forgot all about our conversation, maybe she isn’t
even thinking about me right now. Maybe she… “Welcome home, Damien!” The door in
front of me swings open only to reveal my mother dressed in black pants and a white
blouse. Her hands fiddle with the clasp of a silver necklace as she struggles to put it
around her neck. “Help me put on this necklace will you?” She asks me before turning
around and holding up the piece of jewelry behind her. With my mind full of thoughts
concerning Amelia, I drop my school bag and walk over to where my mother stands. My
hands reach for the clasp held between her fingers until my hand accidentally brushes
against hers. Jerking back, a surge of disgust flows through me as I realize where I am
and who I just touched.
“Damien, can you hurry please? We have to leave soon.” No. My feet move in
accordance with their own. One step. Two. Three. Four. Until I’m standing behind her
and my hands are holding the clasp to her necklace. My nose wrinkles as the
overwhelming smell of flowers assaults me and leaves my head pounding. It burns. With
my hands hovering above her neck, I can feel her pulse beating. One. Two. Three. The
cool metal of the necklace sears into my flesh and my hands start to shake. I can hear her
breathing. Oh, how easy it would be to end the torturous sound. Make it tighter. I pull the
ends of the necklace closer together, pinching her skin underneath the metal band. Not
tight enough. She’s still breathing. Her chest continues to rise and fall with each passing
second and her pulse continues to beat. I pull the necklace even tighter, my skin turns
white. “Damien, that’s too tight.” Shut up. Her hand reaches for her neck in an attempt to
loosen the piece of metal being wrapped around her throat. The necklace feels heavy in
my hands, it’s burning me. Strangle her. Pull. It. Tighter. Her hand touches my own, flesh
upon flesh, it’s burning me. Just a little bit more-
“Damien.” A deep voice calls out. Click. I clasp the ends of the necklace together
and drop my hands back down to my sides. The woman sitting in front of me takes a deep
breath and puts a hand up to her neck, touching the place where the necklace was taut on
her skin.
“You look great mom.” I state with a small smile. I look up towards the stairs
where just moments prior, my name had been called. I force the smile plastered across
my face to grow wider as my eyes meet with my fathers. He comes down the stairs
wearing a dark blue shirt and black dress pants. The watch placed upon his wrist looks
expensive, it gleams in the light with tints of gold. He adjusts it as he comes towards us.
 “Are you alright Jane?” He asks my mother, staring into her eyes with a soft
expression. You disgust me.
“I’m fine, dear. I was just about to tell Damien to get ready for dinner.” She replies
with a shaky voice, her hand fumbling with the bottom of her shirt. “I’m wearing the
necklace you got me for my birthday last month. Damien helped me put it on.” She
continues, the pitch of her voice high with enthusiasm. My father only smiles at her, his
eyes crinkling at the sides and the lines on his forehead deepening. I can tell he really
loves her.
“It looks amazing on you,” He tells her, kissing her forehead. I loathe them, I
detest their happiness, I want to ruin it. “We’re going out for dinner tonight, Damien. Go
get ready.” He tells me while adjusting the watch on his wrist. What. I look at them in
disbelief, but they only smile at me.
“I want to, I really do,” I start to say, “but I have a lot of homework to do tonight.”
My voice sounds unnatural to my own ears, there’s a twinge of disappointment in it and
genuine sense of sadness. It’s all a lie.
“Damien, you’re coming. We haven’t gone out as a family in a while, so tonight
will be fun!” My mothers voice beams with excitement. Fuck. Slowly, I walk up the stairs
to my room while my parents continue to get ready. Opening the door to my room, I walk
into the bathroom and turn the tap on. The next two hours of my life are going to be hell.
I am not in the mood to sit at a dinner table and play family with them. Just kill them now,
then you won’t have to go. My heart begins to race at the idea, but instead I put on a grey
collared shirt and jeans. I’ve worked too hard for this to all come crashing down over
some dinner. Breathing deeply, I walk down the stairs and into my own personal hell.
The car ride was manageable, I put my earphones in and tuned out the
conversation being made. But as soon as the car stops and the doors open, I’m no longer
protected by the music coursing through my ears. “Table or booth?” The hostess asks us.
She’s wearing a long black dress and sleek, black high heels.
“A booth please.” My mother replies, eyeing one in the corner of the restaurant.
As the hostess takes us to our table, I notice that the restaurant is quite empty. The lights
on the ceiling cast a dim, white light across the tables and the walls are covered in
bamboo. When we sit down in our booth and the waitress comes to our table, I order tea
with a california roll. “Are you not hungry Damien?” My mother asks me, her eyes filled
with concern.
“Not really.” Her eyes search mine, prompting further response to her question.
Oh, she wants to know why I’m not hungry too. Annoying. “I’m just tired today.” I smile
to assure her and relieve myself of her worrying glances, however this only encourages
her to ask me even more useless questions.
 “Have you been sleeping well? You should try to go to bed earlier if you’re tired.”
Shut up. I only nod in response, quietly tapping my fingers against my leg.
“You’re tea.” The waitress announces before setting a cup in front of me. There’s
steam seeping out from the liquid, it really is hot. I put my hands around the warm piece
of metal and bring it up to my lips, hoping to distract myself from the conversation
happening before me.
“Be careful Damien, you’ll burn yourself.” My father advises me while looking at
the cup, its steaming contents about to pour into my mouth. I feint a smile, setting the cup
down on the table.
“Alright, I’ll wait for a few minutes.” I say reluctantly. Although, burning myself
was the whole point.
“How was school today? You came home pretty late, were you out with your
friends?” My mother questions me. Who did I tell them my friends were again?
Scratching the back of my head with my hand, I try to recall the names of my friends.
“School was good,” I begin to tell her, stalling for time. “We had a new student in
class and I was assigned to show her around.” My mothers eyes light up, and she leans
towards me as if she’s intrigued by what I’m about to tell her. Get away from me.
“Oh, so you showed her around after school?” She asks me, emphasizing the fact
that Amelia was, in fact, a girl. Here we go again. I adjust my seating position, trying to
shift myself away from my mother.
“Ya, I showed her around after school.”
“How was it?”
“It was fine.”
“What did you guys talk about?”
An image of Amelia sitting alone in the library flashes before my eyes, her
sympathetic gaze piercing through me.
“Nothing much.”
“Was she cute?”
She’s prying. I detest when she asks me these questions. I can’t control my anger
when she does.
“I don’t know.” I respond, annoyance creeping into my voice.
“Hmmm,” she teases me, rubbing her chin with her hands. “Well, do you like
her?”
I don't respond. I’ll lash out at her if I do. My hands grip the wooden seat beneath
me, clawing into it. She takes my silence as a yes. “Maybe Damien will bring home a girl
soon.” She laughs, looking at my father. Lash out at her. My hands feel as though they’re
about to break. The wood beneath me makes a sharp noise as my nails dig into it even
further. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, a warm liquid seeps into the corners of my
mouth. It tastes like metal. I’m about to lose my shit.
Suddenly, a roll of sushi is set in front of me. “Enjoy your meal, and please let me
know if you need anything else.” The waitress says while glancing at me. I smile at her,
my teeth full of blood, my eyes hard as rock. Her pupils widen in shock before she
stumbles away from our table, clutching onto her tray. Looking up, I see my parents
eating their food, beckoning for me to join them. I release my grip on the bench, and flex
my hand. My fingers are white and the joints are sore, but there’s no real damage. I grab
my cup of tea and bring it up to my lips. It’s still hot. Moving my lips apart, I pour the
scorching hot liquid into my mouth, relishing the sensations running through me. It’s
scalding, but I love it. I swish the tea around my mouth, mixing it with the blood that
stained my teeth red. Gulping the mixture down, I run my tongue across the front of my
teeth. Nice and clean.
“This sushi is delicious.” I hear my father remark as he bites into his roll. Picking
up my own roll, I nod in agreement with him as the flavours burst onto my tongue,
replacing the bitter taste that had previously occupied it. I watch closely as my mother
chews on her own food. I hope she chokes on it. The conversation from a few minutes
before still ecompasses my mind, manifesting a surge of anger from within me, but the
throbbing from my lips and hands keep my mind clear.
“I’m so glad we went out as a family tonight!” My mother says while taking a bite
of her food. The smile placed upon her face has a purity to it, like that of a child who has
just opened the biggest present under the tree on Christmas.
“It was a great idea.” My father agrees, reaching for her hand. Fuck, now I have to
say something too. Gritting my teeth, I string together a reply that comes out sounding as
earnest as possible.
“Ya, it was fun.” So fun.
20 minutes later and the bill is being paid. The waitress comes to our table with
the machine and begins to stack our plates on top of her tray. As she reaches for my
empty plate, her hand begins to shake ever so slightly. I glance up at my parents to see if
they notice, but they’re too busy arguing over who will pay the bill. Leaning towards the
waitress with the pretense of gathering plates for her, I tap her hand with my finger. She
flinches. “You’re shaking.” I mouth to her. Her eyes widen as she grabs her hand and
shifts away from me. Wow, she must really not like the sight of blood.
The waitress leaves once the bill is paid, and I scan my parents' faces to check if
they saw our interaction. The beaming looks on their faces tells me they did not, to which
I sigh in relief. That would have been a mess to explain. As we exit out of the restaurant
and head towards our car, the anger that surged within me at the beginning of the night
does not waver. Just one car ride, then this will all be over. Opening the car door, I lock
eyes with my father. He beams at me, giving me a fatherly smile before heading into the
car. It’s disgusting. I get inside the car and close the door. Fuck, I’m about to lose my shit.
The drive home seems endless. Countless turns down different roads and yet we
never seem to arrive at our destination. “Damien, are you comfortable back there?” My
mother asks me from the passenger's seat. My hands wrap around my own throat and rake
down the sides of my skin, trying to contain my sanity. Stop talking to me.
“Ya I’m fine.” I answer, my voice wavering ever so slightly.
“Okay, if you need me to move my seat up just let me know.” I don’t respond.
Instead I begin to wring my hands together, twisting and turning the skin. How much
more of this can I take?
“We’re home.” My father announces when we pull up to our driveway. As soon as
the engine stops, I bolt out of the car towards the front door. The faster I get inside, the
faster I can get away from them. Swinging the front door open, I start to take off my
shoes and socks. Faster, go faster. With lightning speed I dash up the stairs towards my
room, praying that I’ll be able to escape before I explode. I’m so close, I’m so so close to
making it before they-
“Damien!” My mother yells from the front door as she steps into the house. My
footsteps halt. Keep going. “I know that you’re tired, but you can at least say goodnight
first.” No. No no no no no no no. Slowly, I turn around only to see her standing in the
middle of the hall, her arms outstretched, waiting. My entire body stills, my eyes narrow,
my heart pounds. I can’t do it. Her hands gesture towards me, beckoning me forward. My
feet move without my own consent. One step. Two. Three. Four. My heart is thundering
in my ears. Each beat is a powerful explosion that sends my mind spiraling and my pulse
quickening. It’s deafening. I can feel the sweat accumulating on my skin, pouring down
my back. The lights in the hallway are suddenly too bright. They’re blinding me. They’re
burning me alive. I’m right in front of her. She’s waiting. I’m still sweating. Each bead of
sweat falling from my neck feels like acid on my skin. She’s still waiting.
And then, she reaches out to me and clutches onto my body. She’s touching me.
The woman who took me away from everyone I love. The woman who stole me from the
one who told me Aere perennius. I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating. She’s killing me. And
then, she let’s go. Finally, after a moment which felt like an eternity of torture and agony
and death, she let’s go. The crippling weight on my chest and the thunder that roamed my
mind has ceased, if only for a moment. The corners of her mouth are turned upwards in a
gentle curve, and her eyes glisten like the moon. I hate her.
“Goodnight Damien.” She whispers to me, looking at me with eyes full of
emotion. “I’ll go help your dad put the cover on the car.” And with that, she walks away
from my quivering figure and towards the driveway. I sprint up the stairs towards my
room, my hand tugging at the skin covering my body. I want to rip it off. I slam the door
to my room closed and stumble into the bathroom. My hands dig into my skull, violently
grabbing my own hair and ripping it out. It hurts. My cheeks are wet. I look into the
bathroom mirror, is that me? I look like I’m insane. Quickly, I open the curtains to my
shower and twist the faucet. Water begins to pour from the shower head and fall all
around me. I strip myself of my clothes, throwing them onto the ground and allowing
myself to be completely engulfed by the liquid. She touched me. Furiously, I rub my
hands all over my body in an attempt to remove her from me. It’s not working. I can still
feel her on me. I turn the temperature of the water up, not hot enough. My hands continue
to scratch my body, leaving behind scars that will last for the upcoming weeks. Not
enough. I open my mouth to scream but am met with silence, water runs into my mouth.
It runs down my throat, leaving behind a blazing path of agony. I’m drowning, but it feels
so good.
I smile. My skin feels like it’s about to come off. I’m rubbing it raw. But it’s her
fault. She ruined it. She ruined my skin. I rake my hand down my chest, across my heart.
A thick, warm liquid seeps through my fingers, coating it before the water can wash it
away. I look down. I’m bleeding. Laughter begins to take hold of my body as I shake
uncontrollably. Waves of laughter ripple through me causing my head to spiral. The
pounding in my head becomes unbearable and the water searing into my skin suddenly
weighs me down. I hate them. I’m in so much pain. This is their fault. My skin is
screaming at me to stop. It feels so good. She touched me. Oh god, the world turned
black.