14. Daemon

I feel like I’m floating on ice, just me, my stick, and a puck, and I feel free. My body feels like it’s moving with ease up and down the ice, and it’s like nothing else matters. I don’t feel any pain, any panic, and there is nothing I need to protect myself from. I am finally fucking free. It’s nice, yet all of a sudden an unfamiliar weight slams into me, dragging me down into a black pit. I’m no longer free, no, I need to escape, and my body begins to fight.

My eyes snap open, taking in the familiar surroundings in a daze, but it’s my current position that has bile rising in my throat. The naked body pressed against my own belongs to a friend, one I’ve never been in this position with before, or anyone else for that matter, but I guess like me, Kara got sick of being called a virgin freak. I know the entire time we have been friends that she wanted more, and I know what happened between us today is only going to give her more hope. I also know I should be thankful to her, especially since she didn’t ask about the angry red marks on my body, but as her skin presses into mine, all I feel is sick.

I scramble for my phone and when I look at the time, a new kind of panic rises inside of me.

Fuck. I fell asleep.

Slipping silently from Kara’s bed, I quietly pull on my clothes, ignoring the burning of my skin at so much contact, because right now it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that I have to get out of here, I need to get home. I stumble in a daze to my car, calling Ryan’s phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. Okay that’s good, he’s fine, he’s still at chess club, it always runs late and he doesn’t see his phone, it’s fine.

Everything is fine.

The sun is setting, and as I drive through town I call him again, and again, and still there is no answer. I know the rising terror inside of me is a ridiculous reaction caused by my trauma, but still I press my foot a little heavier on the accelerator. He’s fine, he’s safe, I keep him safe, I take it so he doesn’t have to. I repeat that mantra in my head, as I get closer to my side of town, and when I hear sirens sounding out in the distance, I tell myself it means nothing. It’s almost Thanksgiving, plenty of people get themselves in trouble around the holidays, it means nothing.

Yet as I turn onto my street, I hear it.

The screaming.

So much screaming.

I almost crash into the garden fence when I pull up, diving from the car without even turning off the engine, and then I’m running. The screaming almost cripples me, but I can’t stop, because my father won’t stop. He never fucking stops, I have the scars to prove it, but I’m stronger than my brother, I have to be, it’s why I protect him.

Fuck.

Why is he already home? Why wasn’t I here to protect him?

Slamming through the front door, it ricochets off the wall as the screaming finally stops, but I just keep moving, not stopping until I reach the kitchen, and then pain like I have never known lashes through me. It’s worse than my father’s fists, worse than his blade, and that metal bat he used on me that time, and worse than every fucking beating I have ever taken, because for once, it’s not my blood on the floor.

Fuck. There is so much fucking blood.

My father is leaning on the counter, heaving in deep breaths, and when he spots me he sneers. “Oh look, it’s the other pathetic waste of sperm I call a fucking son,” he spits at me in a drunken rage, but my eyes are on my brother.

On my beaten and bloodied little brother.

“Ryan!” His name tears from my throat in a scream, my feet slipping in his blood as I rush to his side, and I don’t care about putting my back to my father, not right now. Not when I’m so desperate to hear those screams that almost just crippled me. Screams are good, screams mean there is a chance. Silence is dangerous, I know that better than anyone. “Ryan, please,” I plead, shaking his small body roughly, before bringing one of my trembling hands to his neck.

I can’t feel anything. Why can’t I feel anything?

My fingers trail along the silver chain around his neck, now stained in blood, as red and blue flashes light up the dark kitchen, and I hear my father curse. Not because of what he has done to his fucking youngest son, but because someone called the police on him, and at the sound of his anger, something inside of me snaps. I take in my hands, stained in my brother’s blood, and the next thing I know they are around my father’s neck, and the only screams that I can hear are my own.

“I will fucking kill you for this, I will fucking kill you!” I cry, squeezing his throat as hard as I can, still screaming in his face.

“Daemon,” someone cries, but I ignore them.

“Daemon,” they shout again, and suddenly my whole body is shaking, but I don’t let go, I can’t, he has to die.

“I will fucking kill you!” I scream, and I feel like my body is being ripped apart. No, I have to kill him, I have to make him pay.

“Daemon!” The voice startles me awake and I find Josh kneeling over me in my bed, his arms restraining my own. “It’s okay, Daemon, you’re okay, I’m here, you’re okay, I got you, you’re okay,” he says on repeat, emotion clinging to the back of his throat in clear worry, as he looks down at me in a panic.

“Josh,” I gasp out on a choked breath, and he gently squeezes my biceps, his thumb rubbing my skin back and forth in a way he has done too many times before.

“I’m here, you’re safe, it’s all okay,” he whispers soothingly on repeat, slowly taking his hands off my arms and holding them up as he sits back onto the edge of my bed.

My heart is pounding in my chest and my body is drenched in sweat, as I look around my dark room and realize it was all just a bad dream. I’m not back in my car rushing home, I’m not stumbling into the kitchen and finding my brother, and I’m not trying to choke the life out of my father. It was all just a bad dream.

There is light pouring in from the hallway, lighting up the worried expression on my best friend’s face, and when I glance up to meet his stare, I know this was a bad one. “Another nightmare?” he asks, even though the question is pointless. I nod shakily, pushing myself up into a seated position against my head board, bringing one of my hands to my chest.

“Fuck,” I breathe, pressing down on my chest like I might be able to control my heart rate, as my free hand brushes my hair back from where it’s sticking to my forehead. “I’m sorry,” I add in a whisper, so fucking sick of being such a fuck-up, and my best friend scowls, but doesn’t comment on my apology.

“This sounded worse than normal,” he adds, handing me a bottle of water, and I take it gratefully, uncapping it and chugging half of it down. “I’m serious, Daemon, you sounded like you were fucking dying in here,” he snaps, his anger not directed at me, yet still I feel it like it’s my own.

My screams were so bad it sounded like I was dying? That almost makes me laugh, because I felt like I was dying. The sound of my brother’s pained screams and the sight of his blood almost killed me, and most days I wake up wishing it had.

My heart is still racing, and I am struggling to catch my breath, as images of that night flood my mind, and I have to close my eyes to try and block them out. “I’m fine, it’s just the time of year,” I grit out, not having to elaborate any further. This week marks four years since that night, and though I have the same kind of nightmares all the time, they are always worse around the anniversary.

“I know,” Josh replies gently, before I feel him move off my bed, only to return not even a minute later, dumping something next to me, before taking a seat at my side. “Here, we can drown our sorrows in our downward spiral together,” he sighs, and when I open my eyes, I find my sketchbook, a pack of pencils, and a bottle of whiskey.

“What sorrows are we drowning this time?” I croak out, my throat hoarse from all the screaming, and Josh hands me the whiskey, as he reaches for the remote and turns on the TV.

“Our daddy issues, like always of course,” he replies, like the answer was obvious, and I smile softly, because if it’s one thing I can count on in this world, it’s my best friend.

Josh is the only person in my life who knows a lot of my history. He doesn’t know everything, I’m not sure even he could handle it, but he knows enough, yet still he never treats me like I’m fragile. Even on nights like tonight, where he finds me screaming in my bed, there is no pity or sorrow, just unconditional support and friendship.

“I take it you’re staying?” I ask, more than used to this routine of ours, and he nods, getting comfy.

The fucker will wait until I fall asleep and then take the floor like the martyr he is, yet still I feel grateful for his presence. Even when I watch as he pulls up fucking Star Wars on the screen, and I smirk as I pour some of the burning liquid down my throat. If it wasn’t for him I’d be dead, and as much as I hate this fucking time of year, I know I need to be thankful for every time he has saved me. Yet it will never be enough to overshadow the night I didn’t save my brother.

“Any word on Cap’s mom?” I ask, forcing myself to change the subject, and Josh glares at me for daring to bring him up.

Ever since he found out Nova is dating his sister, he has been on a fucking war path, mostly to foil the bullshit marriage their dad was trying to force on Maddie. Yet even with his mom in the hospital, it’s not made our captain any more likeable to my best friend.

“Maddie said she’s doing better, but I don’t think they are letting her home for the holidays,” he gruffs, and I can’t help but smirk as I grab my sketchbook and flip it open.

“At least she’s doing better,” I reply, knowing the pain of losing a mother all too well, and not wishing it on anybody.

“Yeah, I bumped into Gray when I went to Maddie’s this morning, and they said she is looking stronger every day,” he mumbles, half paying attention to the movie, and at the mention of our teammate I flinch slightly.

“Any luck with your dad?” I change the subject again, not wanting to think about that insufferable asshole prick, and Josh scoffs.

“You mean is he going to let me out of the business marriage meant for my sister, now I’ve offered to take her place?” he asks, and I nod, making him laugh without a trace of humor.

Remember how I said he was a fucking martyr?

Well, apparently it doesn’t matter how much he hates Nova Darkmore, because if his sister is happy, that’s enough for him. Which is why he stormed into his father’s office, and offered himself up on a platter in exchange for Mayor Peters to leave Maddie alone. An offer he wasn’t sure he would even accept, yet it wasn’t long before he produced a list of potential wives for his son to choose from.

“My father is the most powerful man in this town, and what he wants, he gets,” he spits, grabbing the whiskey from me and taking a long pull. “So I think it’s safe to say you’ll be attending my wedding soon,” he grumbles, passing me back the bottle.

“Even though you haven’t picked a wife yet?” I ask, taking another drink, and his stare snaps to mine as I smirk.

“Even though I haven’t picked a wife yet,” he repeats with the shake of his head, and I can tell from the look on his face that there is nothing he wants less in the world.

“You know, even powerful men can perish,” I tell him softly, and he nods slowly, letting my words soak in, before he grabs the bottle back and holds it up in the air.

“To the day they perish,” he toasts, knocking back some of the liquid and offering it to me to do the same.

Then we spend the next two hours passing the bottle back and forth until I feel numb enough to fall asleep, and this time, I don’t have any nightmares. No, instead my mind is clouded with sarcastic blue eyes and cocky smiles, no matter how hard I try to forget about them.

I guess I’ve got yet another demon to contend with.

It’s still dark when I wake, my head pounding, and when I spy Josh still sleeping on my floor, I know it must be early. I know I won’t be able to get back to sleep, so I slip out of bed and head to the bathroom. I make quick work of taking a shower and freshening up, before grabbing some workout clothes and heading to the gym.

I’m not surprised to find it nearly empty, since almost everyone on campus has already headed home for Thanksgiving, but still I put on my headphones and get to work. The exhaustion from last night still clings to me, but like always I push myself, in the hopes that it will be enough to make me sleep without remembering that fucking night, or all the ones that came before it.

I work through the motions of my upper body workout, until my back is slick with sweat and my arms are shaking, and when I finally leave the gym, the sun is up. I power walk the short trip back to my street, but before I can even reach my house, a familiar voice calls out to me.

“Been working up a sweat without me, Forbes?” Archer calls out from across the street, and when I turn, I find him placing two large rucksacks into the trunk of his car.

Ignoring his obvious innuendo, but unable to ignore him, I nod towards his bags. “Going somewhere?” I ask, and he looks surprised that I’m even responding, even if it isn’t to answer his question.

He looks between me and his bags before he nods, leaning back to take a seat against the open trunk. “Yeah, I’m heading to the city for a couple of days for the holidays,” he explains, and I nod, already knowing this information from Aurora, but for some reason I felt the need to converse with him.

After everything that happened with Diana, I haven’t seen him at practice the last few days, and now with the holidays coming up, it will be almost another week. I’m not sure why the thought of that bothers me. Just because we shared a drunken kiss doesn’t make him any more significant in my life.

“So I can finally expect some peace and quiet for a few days then, huh?” I toss back, and the prick smirks in that insufferable way that only he can, his stare dancing down to his feet and back up again.

“Have you got any plans for the holidays?” he asks, and I am once again reminded why I don’t try and make friends with anyone, because they wouldn’t understand.

The last time I willingly made a friend, I lost everything that was important to me because of it, and it’s not like they stuck around for the fallout. Once my father was arrested, the word freak became insignificant in comparison to what the kids at school started calling me, but it didn’t matter, I could take it. After all, it wasn’t the worst thing I had endured, and even though nothing like that can happen again, I don’t let people in.

“None of your fucking business, Gray,” I snap without thinking, and I swear I can feel his sigh from all the way across the street, as he holds his hands up and rises back to his feet. Just like I am used to him and his bullshit, he is used to me and mine.

“Okay, well try not to miss me too much,” he tosses back sarcastically with the shake of his head, slamming his trunk closed, before moving to the side of his car.

“Yeah and try not to stick your tongue down anyone's throat,” I snap without thinking, and he pauses with his hand still on the door, turning towards me and cocking his brow.

“Oh yeah? Is that an order?” he asks with a smirk, and knowing I’ve already said too much I remain silent, but of course that doesn’t deter him in any way. “Damn, one kiss and suddenly you’re possessive of me?” he purrs, like the idea thrills him, and I internally curse.

Possessive? Yeah fucking right. All I want is to get away from the prick, but he can’t seem to get the message.

Anger burns inside of me, going to war with my exhaustion, and I can’t help but grit, “Get fucked, Gray.” Before turning on my heels and moving towards my house.

“With pleasure, Forbes,” he yells at my back, before I hear the slam of his car door, and the start of his engine, and I don’t know why, but I turn to watch him drive away.

I might not be able to escape my nightmares, but at least for the next few days I can escape Archer fucking Gray.