@athenesnowman I know I dedicated the last chapter to you as well, but you were my 100th fan and that means the world to me so I couldn't stop myself from dedicating again!! Hope you don't mind :)
P.S. the picture is of Emmanuel
Chapter Twelve
When I wake, I wake suddenly to the sound of my door closing. Beside my legs is a tray of crumpets and a folded dress. I unfold the dress and hold it in front of me. It has long sleeves, is modestly cut, has no embroidery and is completely black.
As though I'm in mourning.
What does this mean? Is Mother trying to tell me something? Is she trying to give me a message... about Damon?
Damon! Is he okay?!
I get to my feet and pace the room, trying to come up with an idea with which I can make sure Damon is okay. I run a hand through my uncombed, unruly hair. I pace more urgently, my hands trembling with the need to see Damon. Whatever should I do? There are guards posted outside my door, there is a padlock on my window, there is only one exit. How can I leave the house without being possibly strapped down to my bed? There must be a way, there has to be a way! There has to be! I can't sit here for another moment wondering whether Damon is alive or.... No! I musn't allow myself to think like this! I can't allow myself to think like this! Damon... Damon is completely okay - he has to be! I rack my mind desperately, biting down on my lip so hard that I draw blood.
Then it comes to me as abruptly as lightning in a thunder storm. I can do something. Fighting the urge to punch the air like a man would, I take a deep breath and calm myself.
Reaching under my pillow, I take out the spare key to my restroom, clenching it in my fist.
I walk over to the restroom door and wrench it open. Then I slam it closed as hard as I can, making myself panic on purpose, increasing the speed of my breath and purposely heaving my chest up and down, "There's someone in my restroom. Please help me, there's someone there!"
Immediately, both of the guards rush into the room, pull two rifles out and cautiously head to the restroom, guns pointed in front of them. Once they're both inside the room and checking all the crevices of the room for for my imaginary intruder, I shut the door firmly and lock it with my key.
Then I stuff it into my skirt and sneak out of the room, my back pressed into the wall, oblivious to the yelling and knocking emanating from my restroom. I approach the staircase, peering at the parlour door. It is closed. Slowly, biting my lip to ensure no one hears me coming, I cautiously step down the staircase and tip-toe to the servant's quarters.
Then, abandoning all rationality, I run through the corridors and burst through the exit, hitching my dress up and running through the mud in the direction of the stables.
I hear a cry behind me and I turn my head to see who it is. Emmanuel and the two masked men are on my trail, all three of them nearing me. They must have found the men locked in my restroom. Cursing Emmanuel under my breath (for a woman should not use foul language), I run faster, trying to outrun them. I spot the stables and my heart rate increases.
I am not going to turn back before I've seen him.
I run through the door of the stables and see Chastity bending over a topless, wounded body. A bruised face turns to me.
Damon!
I run to him, collapsing to the floor by his side and taking my hand in his. Damon's face is covered in bruises and swollen patches of dark skin.
I rip a piece of cloth from my dress and dab at some dried blood on his lip.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." I mumble, tending to his injuries, cleaning his face. The extent of his wounds quickly become clear to me. I run my hands over his scarred, bloody body, "You really need a doctor. I am ever so sorry, Damon."
Damon's eyes flicker and he raises his hand weakly to my face, "Come closer." I can barely hear his voice. It is all raspy and rough, as though it's been unused. I bend closer to him, suppressing my tears, stroking his cheek. "Be brave for me." He whispers and then groans, his hand switching from my cheek to the back of his head.
"What's wrong? Does it hurt?" Using my hands as a support, I lift his head from the uneven, uncomfortable stable floor and rest it in my lap, stroking his silky but dirty hair softly.
Damon sighs, "That's better. How did you get here?"
"How did they hurt you?" I avoid the question. Damon would hate me putting myself in such danger just so I could see him; it's better to leave that question unanswered - for now anyway. Maybe when he's well, I could tell him.
Damon shifts his gaze around awkwardly, obviously embarrassed, "Nothing. Just some chains and some fists and some whips - "
"Whips?" I cry, "They whipped you?" A sob escapes my lips and I put one hand to my mouth, the other hand that was previously stroking his hair is now still with shock. Damon smiles and then groans when the effort is too much for him.
"Do me a favour." He whispers instead.
"Anything. I'll do anything." I whisper back.
"Talk to me until I fall asleep." Damon turns on his side and his hand reaches up to be tucked snugly between his head and my lap.
I nod silently, choking imminent wails back down my throat, willing them back down into my gut where they will no doubt resurface later, "I remember when I first met you. You were the big boy whose mummy looked after my mother. You always used to pull my hair and rip my dresses so I would get in trouble."
Damon chuckles softly and I smile, for the first time in a long time. Well, a day, anyway. One day - and so much has happened. How is that even possible?
"Then, one day, a mean woman came to our house. When I touched her with muddy hands, she pushed me into the pond. You helped me. We dug and found worms in the garden and put them in her purse as revenge. She never returned after that. I got in trouble but somehow, it was all worth it."
I look down at Damon. His face is relaxed, his eyes are closed, a faint smile pulling his full lips upwards. I let my hand rest on his cheek, my thumb brushing the dirt away.
"That day was like a truce between us. Without acknowledging it, we became best friends. We went everywhere together, we did everything together. You made my life complete. You were the only one who didn't hate me for my controversial ways. Sadly for Mother, those controversial ways didn't change as I grew up. If anything, they intensified."
Damon's eyes flutter and I use my thumb to gently close them, smiling as I do so.
I sigh, "And here we are today. We've fallen in love and we're doomed for it. I have to marry that demon from the darkest pits of hell... and you're in this condition. I never wanted this to happen. I just want to be with you."
I look down at Damon, whose breathing is deep and slow. I hadn't noticed, but in his sleep, his hand had reached out to hold mine.
I smile softly and bend down to kiss his forehead. I look around me and spot a hay bale behind me. I reach for it and create a soft pillow with the hay. It's nowhere near enough for him, but it will have to do for now. Then I pick his head up and lay it on the hay bale. After cleaning the rest of his wounds with multiple scraps from my dress, I get up to leave the stables, reluctant to let my eyes stray from Damon's face.
Just then, Emmanuel and the four men burst through the door.
Huh. I'd wondered what was taking them so long.
"Shush!" I warn, "He's sleeping. I'll come with you, I was not trying to run. I'm more intelligent than that. Come on."
I walk out of the stables, leaving Emmanuel with his jaw practically dropping to the floor. He obviously did not expect me to co-operate. The barbarian was probably looking forward to hitting me again. They all accompany me back to the house and I stop in front of the staircase.
"Wait." I say, "I want to talk to Mother."
"Why?" Emmanuel snaps.
"I do not think it necessary to tell you, of all people. Call my mother." I refuse to meet his gaze. Rolling his eyes, Emmanuel disappears into the parlour and returns with Mother.
She snaps at me, "What do you want?"
"I will stay in that room, I will marry him, I will do whatever you want but please stop hurting Damon. Please get him out of the stables and put him in my room."
"No. Whatever has made you think we'll let that happen?" Mother looks at me as though I'm a piece of derogatory filth. I fight the urge to remind her that I'm the very daughter whose birth she fought for, I'm the very daughter whom she'd raised, that I was the very daughter who stayed up with her every night when she nearly died of heart-break. I fight the urge to remind her how much it hurt her to know her husband loved another woman, how much it hurt her to know that that woman had gone on to bear a child, when she had tried and failed so many times after my birth. Most of all, I fight the urge to remind her that I was the one who sacrificed every aspect of my life so she could enjoy the high road.
How could she do this to me? After all I've done for her, sacrificed for her, given to her? I even learnt to hate my own father for the sake of having my mother look at me with affection in her eyes! But, alas! Perhaps it was never meant to be.
Perhaps my mother was born to hate me. Perhaps she looks at me and sees her unfaithful husband, the one whom she gave everything to and who took everything away from her in return. Maybe that's why she holds such hatred towards me.
Clearing my head, I plead, "Mother, please. I'll do whatever you say, I will be the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. I will live my life to Emmanuel's rules, just please, get Damon of the stables. He's hurt. Let me spend some time with him. Put him in my room."
"Even if we were to put him in your room, there is only one bed."
"I'll sleep on the ground. I'll get a mattress and I'll sleep on the ground if I have to. Please, Mother." I plead.
Mother looks at the four men sullenly and nods.
They walk out of the house.
I smile, "Thank you. Thank you so much, Mother."
"Shut up." She orders, "I have not done it for you. I have done it so my honour is not tarnished by your revolting behaviour. Do not call me Mother, I would rather die than have you as my daughter. Unfortunately, however, you are my daughter."
I glare at her until she retreats back into the parlour.
Smiling, I turn to Emmanuel and stick my tongue out at him, "Hah!"
Emmanuel scoffs, "You are so juvenile."
I laugh, "Thank you. Better juvenile than society's robot."
"I am not society's... Oh, I am not involving myself in a silly quarrel with a woman. If a woman is what you are."
I raise an eyebrow, "Well, you are not finding out any time soon, so I would kill your curiosity if I were you."
The door opens and the men haul Damon in, his legs dragging behind him. I walk over to them and shove a man away, "Move. I'll take it from here."
We all help Damon up the stairs, into my room and lay him gently down on my bed. The four men leave, but Emmanuel won't budge. I look at him pointedly, "You can leave now."
"No, I am not leaving you alone with him. You are my fiancée, you are mine. I will not let him have you."
"Do you think I have such a loose character that I will let him have me?" I say, sitting beside Damon and stroking his hair just to vex Emmanuel. I am happy to note that I succeed in doing so.
Emmanuel's hands clench and he grits his teeth, "I do not know. You are a creature capable of anything."
"Then why do you want me?" I question, my eyes blazing with a hatred unknown to me. The old me, anyway.
Emmanuel smiles, a cold, leering smile, "I want you simply because I always win. I am not going to be overthrown by a woman. You are not even that; you are a seventeen year old girl. I will not stoop to you."
"You don't have to stoop to me, Emmanuel." I reply, rising to my feet and folding my arms, "You have to rise to me."
Emmanuel glares, shuddering with fury and turns, slamming the door behind him...