22. Alexis

22

Icry out as Mark's body falls heavily on top of me, his warm blood soaking into my clothes. I struggle to push him off, my hands slipping in the crimson pool that surrounds us. Panic seizes me as the reality of what I have done crashes over me, and I feel myself disconnect from the present moment.

Suddenly, I find myself back in the familiar closet, crouched beside my mother. I can hear the faint sounds of footsteps outside, my heart pounding in my ears. The comforting scent of my mother's perfume envelopes me, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood that still fills my nostrils.

My mother's voice is barely a whisper as she instructs me to be perfectly still and silent. "If you're very quiet, you'll win," she whispers, her eyes wide with fear. I nod obediently, not understanding the danger we are in, focused only on the prospect of victory.

The cramped quarters of the closet surround me, the musty scent and the familiar perfume grounding me in that distant memory even as the horror of the present day threatens to overwhelm me.

For a brief moment, I'm a child again, unaware of the violence and trauma that will one day shape my life. I simply wait, anticipating the prize my mother promises if I play the game well.

In the present, I'm yanked upright by Damian, his arms pulling me into his chest. "Come on, we have to get out of here," he urges, his voice laced with concern.

I feel the warmth of his body, the fabric of his shirt rough against my skin, but it is as if I'm disconnected from it all. The blood that smears onto him doesn't register in my mind.

Damian ushers me out of the house, but before we leave, I see Edo quickly moving Mark's body, arranging it in a chair and tying him up. "This will make it look like a robbery gone wrong," Edo mutters, casting a wary glance in my direction.

Damian says something else, but I'm trapped in my own thoughts, my consciousness keeping me in that closet. Faint footsteps outside the closet grow louder, and my mother trembles.

"If you're very quiet, you'll win," she breathes again, gathering me into her arms and holding me close.

In the car, I hear Nat's worried voice, but her words sound distant and muffled, as if I'm underwater. Damian's arms tighten around me, his touch barely registering. I'm trapped, my mind lost in the past, oblivious to everything around me.

When we arrive back at the mansion, Damian scoops me up and carries me upstairs to my room. I'm still trapped in the memory of the closet, my mother's terrified breathing echoing in my mind.

I can feel Damian gently stripping me of my blood-stained clothes. I hope he burns them. As he cleans the remnants of violence from my body, the closet door suddenly opens and my mother's agonized screams fill my ears. I panic, my body thrashing as I cry out.

"Mommy! Mommy, no!" I scream, my voice raw with terror.

"Alexis! Alexis, it's okay. You're safe," Damian says, his strong hands gripping my shoulders, trying to ground me in the present. But the memories are too vivid, the pain too real.

I can see my mother's face twisted in fear as she shields me from the unseen danger. The acrid smell of smoke and the metallic tang of blood fill my senses, transporting me back to that fateful day.

I thrash against Damian's hold, desperate to reach my mother, to save her. Tears stream down my face as I beg, "Please, help her! Don't let them hurt her!" The anguish in my voice is palpable, a raw reminder of the trauma that has shaped me.

Damian pulls me into his chest, enveloping me in a fierce embrace. Then, in a soft, soothing voice, he begins to sing a gentle Italian lullaby, the familiar melody washing over me.

"Dormi, dormi, bel bambino,

Dormi, dormi senza affanni.

La tua mamma è qui vicino,

Veglia i tuoi tranquilli sonni."

The comforting words and the gentle cadence of his voice slowly coax me back from the brink of despair. Damian's warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat anchor me in the present, chasing away the ghosts of my past.

I cling to him, my body trembling as the adrenaline begins to subside. "Stay with me, please," I beg, my voice small and trembling. I can't bear the thought of being alone, not when the horrors of my past are so vividly alive in my mind.

Damian nods and settles on the bed beside me. The familiar scent of his cologne and the comfort of his embrace finally allow me to let go, the tension draining my muscles as exhaustion takes over.

He carefully tucks me into bed, never once leaving my side. I feel safe, secure in the knowledge that I'm no longer alone. As I drift off to sleep, lulled by the soothing melody of his lullaby, I know that—for now—the ghosts of my past will not haunt me.

As I slowly open my eyes, the first thing I notice is Damian sleeping peacefully beside me. His face looks so much younger in repose, the harsh lines and tension smoothed away. I find myself studying his features, wondering how I ended up back in this house.

But then the memories come rushing back—Mark finding me outside the Carter house, the gunshot, the way Mark's warm blood had soaked into my clothes, how his limp body felt on top of mine as I struggled to get him off.

Bile rises in my throat, and I scramble out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom as the nausea overwhelms me.

Damian is instantly by my side, holding my hair back as I retch violently into the toilet. "You're okay, Alexis. The first kill is always the hardest," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he gently rubs circles on my back.

I can't stop the sobs that rack my body, the anguish and revulsion pouring out of me. "I–I can still feel it, Damian. His blood, all over me…" I choke out between heaves. The visceral memory of that moment is seared into my mind, the metallic scent and the warmth of the crimson fluid haunting me.

Damian pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly. "I know, I know. But you're safe now. You're going to be okay," he whispers.

I cling to him, desperate for the comfort and security he offers.

As my sobs slowly subside, I can't help but wonder how he found me. Pulling back slightly, I look up at him, my eyes still glistening with tears.

"How did you know where to find me?" I ask, my voice small and uncertain.

He offers me a half-smile. "It was the most obvious answer, Alexis. The Carter home is the only place you've ever known as home. Of course you would go back there."

Damian's expression then grows serious. "But why the hell did you leave in the first place? Why didn't you talk to me?"

I feel a twinge of embarrassment wash over me. In the aftermath of the Carter house incident, my little "temper tantrum" feels utterly unwarranted. Averting my gaze, I confess, "I… I felt pushed aside when you chose Scarlett over me. Especially after she tried to stab me."

He lets out a heavy sigh. "Alexis, Scarlett means nothing to me. I was trying to protect you. She's unstable and dangerous. My priority was getting you to safety, making sure she didn't uncover who you really are."

I blink up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Nat was right.

"You were trying to protect me?" I whisper, suddenly feeling foolish.

"What do you think I've been trying to do this entire time?" Damian asks, exasperation clear in his voice. "I've not been putting my ass at risk for no good reason."

I don't know what to say to that, but I now feel the weight of the day's events still hanging heavily on my shoulders. "I need to shower," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "I still feel so… disgusting."

Damian nods in understanding, helping me to my feet. "I know the feeling. It took me weeks to feel clean again after my first kill." His gaze grows distant, as if he can still feel the phantom trace of blood on his hands.

"How old were you?" I ask, unsure whether I really want to know the answer.

Damian studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes probing. "Twelve," he says quietly.

Twelve. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, my horror palpable. To think he had taken a life at such a young age…

Damian senses my distress, shrugging, "It's a weight no child should have to bear. But this life… it demands sacrifices."

In that moment, I feel impossibly small, my own trauma paling in comparison to the scars Damian must bear.

As I step into the shower, the image of Mark's shocked expression flashes in my mind, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in my ears. I can feel the gun recoil in my hand, the warm spray of blood against my skin.

I let the scalding water cascade over me, but no matter how hard I scrub, I can't wash away the remnants of what I had done. The sobs come anew, my body shaking as I claw at my flesh, desperate to shed the taint of violence.

Suddenly, Damian is there, pulling me into his embrace, his own body slick with water. I lean against him, craving the comfort and security he offers. Without a word, I reach up, my lips finding his in a desperate, searing kiss.

I need to forget, to lose myself in the sensation of his touch, to drown out the echoes of that fateful moment. Damian responds eagerly, his hands roaming over my curves as he pulls me impossibly closer.

In his arms, I feel a glimpse of peace, a fleeting respite from the horrors that haunt me. For now, I can simply be, without the weight of the world crushing down upon me. Damian is my anchor, my salvation in the midst of the storm.

As our kiss deepens, I pour every ounce of my anguish and longing into it, silently begging him to take it all away.

Damian's wet hands curl under my ass, and he lifts me up in one fell swoop, pressing me against the wall. I moan as Damian's mouth finds my neck and he thrusts roughly against me, his hard dick rubbing against my pussy in the most delicious way.

"Fuck, Damian!" I gasp, clutching onto his hair.

Damian chuckles and enters me, both of us moaning as he fills me. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, trying to bring him as close to me as possible.

As our lips meet again in a languid kiss, the world narrows to just the two of us—a private sanctuary amid the chaos. Hands roam reverently, relearning the curves and planes we have committed to memory, rediscovering the nuances of each other's body.

There's an unhurried cadence to our movements, a gentle ebb and flow as we surrender to the pull of desire. I completely forget what has happened in the last twenty-four hours as I give in to just feeling. The feel of Damian's cock thrusting in and out of me is all I can focus on, the sounds of his ragged breathing filling my ear and the feel of the hot water spraying on me keeping me grounded.

"Fuck, Alexis," Damian rasps out. "I'm going to come."

I tighten my legs around him in response and move my hips in time with his, wanting to get him to jump off that cliff.

Damian groans loudly, his thrusts becoming shallower and sloppier as he speeds toward his release, emptying his seed inside me. I can feel my own orgasm building, and I cry out, feeling that delicious pressure rise, rise, rise before it crests and I feel euphoric, riding a wave of bliss and pleasure.

As Damian helps me get down, my legs trembling from the force of my orgasm, I think I detect a faint murmur from him—a whispered confession of love. However, the rush of sound in my ears from the water and the intensity of the moment make me unsure whether I had truly heard the words.

Damian's dark eyes search my face, a tender vulnerability flickering across his expression. He seems to be gauging my reaction.

I gaze up at him, my own heart pounding with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Had he really said those three little words?

Or is it simply my own desperate desire to hear them manifesting in my mind?