Page 68 of Fragile Twisted Vows
“Damien, you’re scaring me. Stop it and let me explain,” I say, my voice almost a whimper as he speaks.
He freezes as his eyes widen for a moment, taking in my words. It doesn’t last long because they narrow on me almost instantly.
As I gaze into his eyes, I can see the storm brewing within them. His anger is palpable, a mix of frustration and hurt that cuts through the air between us. The intensity of his stare makes my heart race, and I feel a knot forming in my stomach. Each glance feels like a silent accusation, a reminder of the rift that has come between us. In this moment, words seem futile, overshadowed by the raw emotion in his eyes. I want to reach out, to bridge the gap, but the anger swirling in those eyes holds me back, leaving me grappling with a mix of fear, regret, and downright terror.
“No. You’re done talking. I can’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth anyway,” he hisses, and his voice is almost unrecognizable.
His voice, normally so familiar and comforting, now sounds foreign and sharp. It’s as if the anger has transformed him into someone I barely recognize. Each word he speaks is laced with bitterness, cutting through the air like a blade. The person standing before me feels like a stranger, his features twisted by the intensity of his emotions. It’s disconcerting to see him this way, a stark contrast to the man I’ve known over the last couple of weeks, this is more like the Damien I remember. The anger in his voice creates a chasm between us, making me question if the person I thought I knew ever really existed. It’s a haunting realization that the one I love can change so drastically in the heat of the moment.
Maybe this is who Damien really is, who he’s been all along. I’ve just turned a blind eye to him completely.
“You’re coming with me. It’s time for you to be punished. Good girls don’t lie,” he growls, ripping me from the bed and hauling me over his shoulders.
I don’t scream, I don’t protest. I just hold my breath as he takes me from my room and climbs the stairs to his own. We walk through his bedroom and he opens the door to the dungeon he tries to hide away from the world. A room that once excited me. A room that now terrifies me.
He throws me against a large, wooden board with shackles on it and my body freezes in terror.
My mind instantly goes to that night as Damien undoes his belt and moves it closer to me, ready to snap it.
I didn’t expect this to happen, didn’t realize my mind would wander to this place, but it’s too late now.
“Please stop!” I cry, tears spilling from my eyes as my mind goes back to that night.
He doesn’t listen, he just walks closer. He is not Damien right now, he is my attacker from three years ago. His eyes are dark blue and he smells like vodka. His hands are rough and calloused and he hisses at me like a snake. When he pins me, I scream. When he lashes me with his belt, I weep. I beg for help. For someone, anyone.
I ask him to stop. But he doesn’t listen, just presses me down and whispers my name in an angry hiss.
I try to sneak back to the present moment, try to make my way through the blurred lines of memory and reality and when I do, I shout the one word that makes him freeze altogether.
“Enough!” I scream.
His belt drops to the floor and I am catapulted back into the room, into this actual moment and not like that night years ago.
My breath is coming out hard and fast. My cheeks burn from my tears. I’m shaking, almost uncontrollably as my eyes move from the belt on the floor to meet with Damien’s.
He looks normal now, except he’s terrified. He’s staring at me in such shock and belief, and beneath that, disgust.
“Lucy-I…” he starts, but chokes on his words.
He realizes what he’s done. He saw the terror in my gaze. Heard the safe word. And he stopped. He’s Damien again. My Damien.
“I thought you were him,” I cry softly, dropping my head as he backs away from me.
“Lucy, I’m not. I’m sorry- I was just pissed and I thought you understood the dynamic. I thought you could handle-”
“Not when you do that to me! Not when you act like the men who have fucking abused me!” I sob, dropping to my knees on the floor as I bury my face in my hands.
I realize then, that all of the intimacy I’ve had with him, all of the pain I’ve taken and searched for, was nothing but a coping mechanism for what I’ve been through. I’ve been hiding from my abuse for years and I finally found a vice.
Sex. With my savior.
Except now, the truth is laid out and bare.
Damien is not my savior. He is just a man. And I am nothing but a broken girl who has refused to face her trauma.
He pulls me into his arms and I do not flinch, but rather lean into him. He smoothes back my hair and rubs my back as I sob and he kisses the top of my head while whispering that I’m okay and that I’m safe, that I can trust him.
That he’s sorry.
