The Beginning of the End

"May...May...Makayla!"

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts and turned back to look at my dad who was staring me down from the other side of the living room. His eyes were narrowed in concern.

"Are you alright? You seem to be spacing out a lot lately."

"No, no," I said, giving him a wide smile and then digging into the now cold slice of pizza on my plate to prove him wrong. "I'm fine."

"I was asking you how your friends are doing. It's been a while since they've been around to visit."

I would have choked on his question if I were capable of having such a reaction. Dad made it a point to stare at me, as if trying to detect another falter in my behavior but I didn't give him the satisfaction as I slowly chewed on the pepperoni and cheese and swallowed, maintaining an even pokerface the whole while.

"They're doing great."

"Really? Because you seem awfully distracted these days so I figured-"

"It's just school work, dad. The pressure's starting to get to me."

That was a believable lie. Dad sized me up a while longer before shrugging and deciding to let it go. We made small talk through out our lunch, and I was glad that the television was on to distract him enough to stop his interrogations, giving me the time to 'space out' as he beautifully phrased it. As stressful as school really was and as busy as senior year kept me, my mind was more preoccupied with the drama that had begun to corrupt it. Since the day Nick walked in on Leo and I making out, he had made it a point to avoid discussing whatever had happened with the two of us. Something told me Leo had gotten to him first and told him to keep his mouth shut but it truly came as a surprise that he hadn't even told Amy about what he'd seen. Of all people, she'd flip out the most if she knew, not to mention rub it in my face that she had 'called it'.

But...called what exactly? Things weren't exactly set in stone with Leo. The kiss-incident having been just a couple days ago, we hadn't gotten an opportune moment to actually discuss what it meant for the two of us. Sure, I'd catch Leo looking over at me and we'd smile in this discreet way, which much to our annoyance Nick would cough at not-so-obviously. Yet, that didn't mean we were a couple now. I hoped to God that it didn't mean we were just 'friends-with-benefits' either.

After lunch, I retreated to my room to finish up a few pending assignments which took only an hour and a half. Using my workload as a way to distract myself from the raging war inside my head was effective but with the individual essays and projects all finished, I found my thoughts going back to the very same place I wanted to avoid. With a groan, I grabbed my hoodie draped over my chair and slipped into it, feeling the jingle of my house keys already in the pocket, joined by the weight of my phone. Dad didn't so much as blink when I descended the stairs and called out to him.

"Going out for a bit dad! Be back in an hour or two."

All I heard was a hum of consent. On closer inspection, I could hear the drone of football commentary coming from the TV and couldn't resist rolling my eyes. Men.

Stepping out of the house proved to be a good decision. The palette of colors splashing the sky as the sun descended slowly into the horizon was a beautiful sight but nothing compared to the calm atmosphere of my neighborhood. Coupled with the slightly chilly breeze that swept through, I knew this walk would do wonders for my heart. Without further ado, I skipped down the front porch steps and headed down the side walk, with no real plan of where I was going. I didn't really need one.

My feet did the leading, and my eyes captured the serenity I'd been hoping for. Images of children chasing each other on the front gardens, the open window view of parents with their children congregated in their kitchen cooking together, and another of a single mother pulling up on her driveway as her three little girls burst out the front door to greet her with a smiling nanny in tow. It was kind of amazing to think that each and every person I passed had their own story, their own reason for being and reinforced by little snapshots of happiness reinstated my faith in humanity.

Somehow, my brain caught up to my heart as on my little promenade of the evening, I had, without meaning to, walked the distance and entered Damien's neighborhood. It wasn't until I turned the corner of the block to his little green house that it hit me where my feet had led me.

I stopped in my tracks and stared, a little in surprise, a little in happiness at the sight of his house. Okay, I was tempted to drop in for a visit but would that be considered appropriate? Nearly every time I had showed up at his place thus far had been unannounced, and although he hadn't had a problem with it so far, that was no guarantee for the future.

The smile slipped off my face as I let out a sigh and turned away to head back to my house. I must have a good forty-five minute leisure walk and that was good enough for me to calm down. But as I started to take a step in the direction of my humble abode, my mind produced a rather sparkling piece of information that was incentive enough to turn back.

The history project.

It was due two weeks from now but we had a lot on our plate to complete. Knowing Damien, he'd want it out of the way as soon as possible. Surely, that was reason enough to pop in? I decided not to doubt myself and come up with a good argument to leave. Happy enough with the lame ass excuse of 'academics' to say hi, I headed toward the front door with a smile on my face and rang the door bell.

Shuffling from one foot to the other, I waited for the sound of footsteps and the opening of the door. I waited another minute. Nothing.

My eyebrows creased as I rang the doorbell a second time and got no response again. Come to think of it, peering over at the side I realized that all the shades were drawn on the windows, giving no hint as to whether there was anyone inside in the first place. It was ominous, to say the least.

"Hello?"

I raised my hand to knock on the door but to my complete surprise, the mere touch of my hand against the door opened it for me. And that's when I realized the door had already been open... no. Not open. Ajar.

My heart beat faster in my chest as I stepped in to a dark, dimly illuminated house spare for the fading rays of orange sun seeping in through the cracks.

"Hello? Anyone home?" Entering the house, I followed down the narrow hallway toward the living room, peeking in. "Damien? You here?" Half-scared to encounter an intruder or possible burglar, I knew my calling out in a house with a front door left open wasn't the best idea but my mind wasn't functioning well enough to consider the possibility of getting attacked. My fear heightened by leaps when my foot stepped down on something...something that crackled beneath the weight of my body.

There were fragments of broken glass all over the floor. A vase, that I recognized to be propped on the dining table from my last visit here. I swallowed and followed the trail to the source of the mess - the kitchen. The table looked slightly crooked with a leg bent, chairs fallen haphazardly across the ground and a couple mugs were lying cracked on the ground.

My voice came out choked, as I shouted more in desperation, "Damien?"

I ran out the kitchen, careful not to step on any of the shards on the ground and hurried up the stairs. Sprinting down the dark corridor, I checked every room but found them all empty. Where the hell was he?

The craziest theories flew through my mind – ranging from a fight gone wrong with one of his girl toys to a kidnapper forcedly taking him away. Nothing made sense and with every second that passed by with no sight of Damien in his own house, I panicked even more. I practically ran out the house with my hands shaking as I started to call the first person off the top of my head. And I would have pressed the green dial button and proceeded to scream into my phone at a clueless Nick if not for the sound of activity I heard that very second. My eyes flickered to the garage – the door was shut but I listened closely, and heard the very faint sound of music being played.

Without a second to waste, I hurried back in and down the house to where I guessed the entrance to the garage would be, flinging it open. My heart was caught in my throat as my eyes adjusted to the pure dark of the large room – I could make out the outlines of several boxes and tools near the wall.

"Damien?" I called out blindly as I took a step forward, into the dark. The music stopped. I thought I heard a car door open. Steps followed and hands grabbed me by the shoulders, erupting a gasp of surprise from my lips at the strength of the hold.

"What are you doing here?" He didn't sound like himself. Not one bit. I didn't care that I was unwanted as I reached out in the dark, reaching for his face. He cringed back. "Don't touch me."

"You're hurt...aren't you?"

Without a sound, Damien released me with a light shove that if I hadn't prepared for, would have sent me stumbling back against the wall. He stalked away from me and I could make out his retreating back. A sliver of the streetlights outside and the moonlight shone through the tiny gap of the garage door's opening. It was enough for me to navigate my way through the dark and closer to him.

A car door opened, and slammed shut again. Judging by the limited light, I could make out that it was a convertible cadillac. The top was open and Damien was in the front seat, his arms crossed.

"Leave, Makayla. You shouldn't be here." I didn't have to see his face to know that he was scowling at me. I could hear it in his words.

It would have been the sensible thing to do, sure. Damien clearly didn't want me here, in fact there was a plea in his voice that though strong, I could still make out. But I felt a tug at the pits of my stomach urge me to do otherwise. How could I leave him like this? I didn't have a clue of what had happened but Damien was hurt. And a friend doesn't leave a friend alone when they're hurt, especially this bad.

I took a deep breath and walked forward, reaching the other side of the car. My hand curled around the handle of the door and I saw Damien flick his head to my side, glaring at me coldly.

"I told you to leave. What are you doing?"

"Joining you," I answered bluntly and slid into the seat next to him. I thought I heard him curse under his breath but apart from the apparent display of distaste, Damien did nothing else to ward me off. A couple minutes passed as we both sat there in silence, simply breathing in the dark. I could feel the heat of his body next to me, just inches away but despite how close we were, I knew his mind was swirling on a planet of its own. I needed to bring him back.

"This car's vintage." I broke the silence. Damien shifted next to me. I turned and noticed he was looking at me, blankly. "I've always wanted to drive a Cadillac."

"It was my mother's car."

He didn't say much more. I didn't push him to either as I took in the huge piece of information he'd shared with me in one small sentence. It was the first time Damien had brought up his mother of his own volition. I'd never asked him how she'd passed and I didn't plan on it tonight, but I knew her death still haunted him. 

"You were listening to music before, right?" I asked gently. "What were you-"

Damien reached past me and clicked something and then, we weren't so alone anymore. The music took over and it was a band I recognized.

"The Smiths," I said, smiling to myself.

Damien hummed a quiet affirmation before adding, even more quietly, "I was listening to...my mom's music."

"She has good taste."

"Had."

I flinched. A silence spread that hung heavy in the air between us. Damien didn't say much else to elaborate but I was okay with that. Processing the very fact that she was not here, alive, took a lot more time than I had wished for. A lot more time than might have been acceptable by a friend who was supposed to be doing the comforting. Instead, I found myself seeking the comfort Damien needed himself as I turned to look at him, wanting to know that there was at least a shard of happiness to the story.  

Damien's face was a shadow, but not one caused by the dim light of the garage. It was a shadow I had seen before, the same shadow that would cross his face when I least expected it to, one he'd effectively hid from me all this time. But not anymore.

I didn't know what I could possibly say, so I didn't say anything at all. With a deep breath, I reached over and placed my hand over his. Warmth met ice, and I noticed the lightest bit of color run into his cheeks as I curled my fingers into his, releasing his tight fist. Damien's eyes flit over to meet mine and we locked in a gaze that said more than words ever could.

It's okay. I'm here.

That's all he needed to know.

His shoulders relaxed, and with it, so did he entirely. Little by little, I felt the distance between us grow smaller as we sat there, listening to the music like two people just meant to exist in that very moment. Like two people connected by nothing else but a thin thread that made all the difference.

The boy with the thorn in his side
Behind the hatred there lies
A plundering desire for love

Damien shifted in his seat as the night progressed, little by little, until the entire weight of his body rested against my side. His head tucked into the curve of my neck, hand still clinging to mine like I was his life's support. It wasn't just his physical weight that I felt being passed on to me but everything else...everything he'd been carrying alone for so long. The idea of him sitting in this car alone other times, without a shoulder to lean on made my heart twist painfully. But I was happy to be here now, happy to let him feel I was someone he could count on.

That's why, as the words of the song drifted us away from the pains of his open wounds, we let go. Together.

We were so beyond returning to the nightmare Damien had been living that we barely registered the time pass by...or the crash that sounded from inside the house. I flinched, ever so slightly, but enough to break us out of our cradle of music. Damien's eyes flashed open to look at me, to see what was wrong until he heard it too.

A man shouting his name in a drunken slur followed by another disastrous crash of what sounded to result in more broken glass. Damien cringed back against the seat and shut his eyes, squeezing it so tight. I could feel the thrumming of his pulse increase against my skin through the tiny vein near his wrist. He was slipping away.

"Damien," I whispered and moved closer to him. He shook his head, blocking out the noise, and in the process, beginning to push me away again.

"Damien, look at me."

He refused to even open his eyes so I did the one thing that I could to grab his attention. I took his hand in mine, squeezed it and pressed it against the side of my face. The sudden contact of my skin against his worked, as I hoped it would. He cracked his eyes open, half in surprise but more so in fear.

"May, wha-"

"Look at me. Just me. Okay?"

I stared into his frightened green eyes and tried to calm the storm in them. His fingers curled against my cheek, and for a second, I thought he was about to pull away but all he did was press the pads of his thumbs against my cheek, as if to make sure I was real.

"D-don't leave."

My eyes widened.

"Don't leave me alone. Not tonight, please."

He sounded so broken. So...so fragile. It was all I could do not to promise him right then and there never to leave his side. But to a boy with broken wings, promises should be made with care. I would take one step at a time.

"Of course," I spoke gently, and added with a smile, "just give me a second, okay?"

Damien reluctantly let go of me, following me with his eyes and doing his best to ignore the racket coming from inside the house. I cranked up the music, loud enough to block it out and yet still not excessively to bring attention to our presence in the garage. Slipping out of the car, I walked toward the garage door and dialled my dad's number. A couple rings went through, before he picked up. The football commentary back in the back told me why.

"May? Where are you? It's been over-"

"Dad I'm not coming home tonight." The finality of my voice put my father off for a couple seconds in surprise. I didn't give him a chance to interrogate me. "Damien needs me, dad."

That's all I needed to say. That, and the chaos that Damien's drunken father was still making.

"Is everything alright?" Dad whispered, concern and worry evident in his voice.

"It will be."

I could picture my dad's nod in his next words, "Alright. Do what you need to do. Be there for your friend."

I smiled and thanked him before promising to be home by 10 the following morning. When I made it back to the car, Damien practically leaped across the seat to hold on to me.

"You're not leaving?"

The hope cracking his voice made me smile as I slid into his arms, letting him hug me, knowing he needed it now more than ever. That's all the answer he had wanted. We spent the rest of the night cooped up in that car, holding hands and each other like the world depended on it. For Damien, it did. Eventually, we fell asleep, our heads against each other, listening to the words of an age-old song as we drifted to a place far away and far better where, just for a little while, we were free.

Take me out tonight
Oh take me anywhere, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care

--- CHAPTER END ---

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