Nowhere is Final: Damien (2021)

Chapter 8

Warm mid-morning light was filtering in through the blinds and onto Damien's trembling fingers as he fumbled with his pill organiser. The Saturday morning box just didn't want to be pried open, and inside rattled the tablets that would numb the stabbing in his leg for a little while. It had refused to settle overnight after he'd stupidly thrown himself on the bathroom floor, and now it still jabbed at him while he was sat at the little round dining table. Bloody horrible.

"Here, let me."

Robyn reached over his shoulder and popped the lid on the small box. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, babe." When he turned his head upwards, and she was there, pecking him on the lips for a brief moment before sinking into the chair beside him. He turned the pills into his palm and reached for his coffee with shaking fingers. "I think I fucked it up. It's bloody sore."

"Do you have another physio appointment?" Robyn's dark eyes were watching him over her own coffee cup as he took the tablets. "I think you have one next week? You need to tell Mark."

He chased the tablets down with a swig of coffee and set the mug down, his hand still shaking. "Yeah, I will, I will – though I'm not sure what he can do about it," he said with a shrug. Now he just had to pray that the drugs could blunt the jabbing.

"Well, something. It's his job to know this stuff, right?" She twirled her phone on the table with an outstretched finger. He smiled, but didn't say anything. She wasn't exactly wrong, but he'd had enough conversations with health professionals over the past few months to know they didn't have a magic wand to wave, and it was best to hope that the knee resolved itself in the next few days. "Anyway, I think we need a plan."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "A plan?" His leg was an annoyance, but it didn't exactly need a fully colour-coded itinerary.

"A plan." Robyn paused for another swig of coffee. "About Eliza?"

Oh. That made a lot more sense. "I s'pose," he muttered, glancing down into the depths of his coffee cup. There were smears of creamy foam coating the edges, the dark liquid swirling into some sort of abyss. Kind of appropriate and the sort of thing he'd tag as '#thoughtprovoking' on his long-dead Instagram. "What were you thinking?" Something started to rattle.

The sound stopped dead, and when he looked up, he could see Robyn holding a plate of toast crumbs steady. So the levitating bullshit was going to continue even now he wasn't freaking out about it. Good to know. "That maybe we should still go to the police? And report her missing? If nobody's seen her for a fortnight...?"

Damien breathed a sigh. There was a lot of sense in what Robyn was saying, he knew. She was a sensible rock in a sea of chaotic, clueless waves. But if Eliza had wanted the police to know, had trusted them, then wouldn't she have called them herself? Maybe that was why she'd been there, at that police station...

"I know it's hard," Robyn continued in a softer voice. "But I think it's the right thing to do, for her sake. You don't have to – I can do it?"

He started to worry at his lip. She didn't even know Eliza, but was doing more to help her than he had. Than their parents had. Than really even Holly had. "I – I know you're right, I – I just – she didn't call." He glanced up, hesitant, but when he caught a glimpse of her eyes, warm and creased with a reassuring smile, he couldn't drag his gaze away. "And – I get the feeling that she doesn't want them involved."

Robyn's warm fingers caught at his hand. He peeked down – her fingernails were short but kept neat, a familiar sight. "Maybe she doesn't know what's best anymore?" His eyes flashed back up to her beautiful face, where there was a small smile still waiting for him. "It sounds like Eliza's always called the shots. But maybe she's wrong this time?" she continued. Her hands enveloped his, squeezing encouragingly. "It's still all pear shaped, it's not gotten better over the last few months, we need to know she's safe – maybe it's time to start doing things our way?"