I can't Give in

Chapter 9 ~ Like Broken Glass

“Damon had thought it was him who had finally broken her. But, at the end of the year Katie moved away and Damon learned why Katie was actually broken. Almost five years later, Damon felt the same pain Katie did, or at least he thought when Beta Ben Smith picked him up from school, informing him about the demise of his parents. However painful, Damon knew deep down that the pain he felt couldn’t even come close to the pain he inflicted on Katie.  Months later, Katie returns, but she wasn’t the same shattered girl that Damon remembered; she was karma in a leather jacket.”

 A smirk flickered at the end of KC’s lips and I dared himself to move closer towards her. KC didn’t notice.

            “And, I think you know the ending.” I finished and KC looked to me. Her eyes were wet, cluttered with trapped tears.

            “Of course,” she whimpered, trying to force a half smile to her face. “The ending was the best part. Well, kind of.” A mix of a sob and a laugh escaped her lips and then I realized; I had never seen KC actually cry. I’ve witnessed her shed a tear or two on a couple occasions, but never actually cried.

            “KC, I know you’re hurt and I know it’s because of me, but please, let me make it right,” I pleaded, slowly putting an arm around her shoulder; she didn’t stop me or move away. Instead, she buried her face in my chest and seconds later I felt warm tears soaking my shirt and quiet sobs shook my mate.

                                                                        ***

It was late at night when terrified whimpers and moans woke me up. I forced my eyes open and that’s when I felt the pinches of pain on my shoulders and chest. I looked down and saw KC clutching me the way she had been when she had cried to sleep, but her claws were drawn and digging into my chest and shoulder. She was whimpering, the way she does when she has a nightmare. Gently, I shook her shoulder, trying to wake her.

            “KC,” I whispered, but then a growl rumbled in her chest and her canines elongated. Sweat was beading off of her forehead and her face was contorted in pain.

            “KC,” I repeated a little louder, gripping her arms firmly but gently. Her claws dug deeper as a scream ripped from her mouth and tears streamed down her cheeks.

            “KC!” I yelled a final time, my voice louder and splitting her sleep. Her bloodshot eyes shot open and she looked around the room, releasing a relieved sigh before she looked up at me. She noticed that her claws were dug deep into my skin and she hesitantly withdrew them, her eyes empty yet scanning my face for judgment.

            “Another nightmare?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

            “They’re getting worse,” she responded, her voice dry and cracking from crying. She slid out of bed and walked into the bathroom in her black tank and white and black tartan pajama pants. A moment later she swore and I was up and in the doorway of the bathroom in a second. I looked in and saw KC standing by the sink with her bloody foot in her hands. Around her other foot on the floor was shattered glass that belonged to the mirror.

            “I forgot I broke that frigging mirror,” she seethed as I maneuvered the shards and picked her up, carrying her out and into the kitchen. Flicking on the light, I sat KC on the counter and returned to the bathroom, moving around the glass pieces towards the cabinet. I pulled it open and dug through it before I found the tweezers and a pack of Band-Aids and returned to the kitchen where KC was trying to pick the pieces out of her foot with her fingernails.

            “Let me do it,” I said, getting down on my knees in front of her and gently grabbing her ankle. She watched me carefully as I brought the tweezers to her heel. Her warm blood trickled onto my hand as I carefully tried to remove the glass, KC wincing when I touched the wound.

            “Hold still,” I said when her foot flinched when I pulled out a shard the size of my thumb. She growled quietly and looked away, trying to preoccupy her attention. “You’ve never told me what your nightmares are about.” I said, continuing to work on her foot.

            “Because they’re my burden; not yours,” she said through clenched teeth, still not looking down.

            “Well, if you’re going to wake me up every night then they kind of are,” I joked softly, knowing better than to push my luck. She glanced down at me before rolling her eyes, defeated.

            “Doyle’s in them. Sometimes you. Sometimes my dad,” she whispered, folding her arms around her leg and resting her chin on her knee, still looking away. She muffled a yelp when I plucked out another jagged shard of glass that was embedded in the arch of her foot. “Doyle’s chasing me; calling for me, mocking me. I’m out in the woods at night, running and trying to get away, but I’m injured.” She gulped and I knew this was hard for her to share, especially with me. I paid attention as she continued, reaching into the bag for a wet wipe so I could not only disinfect her foot, but also wash off the blood. She winced when the chemicals made contact with her wounds.

            “My dad’s calling to me, but I know he’s a figment of my imagination or one of Doyle’s tricks, but sometimes he’s just so real.” She paused and sucked in a deep breath. “I saw him at our wedding, Damon.”

            “What?” I questioned, taking my eyes off of KC’s foot so I could stare up at her, making sure I heard right.

            “KC, your father’s dead. He’s been for years.”

            “Trust me, I know, but I know what I saw. No one’s eyes are greyer than my dad’s, though,” she sighed, doubt residing in her voice. I began wrapping gauze around her foot, but I kept my eyes on her, watching her reactions, the conflict expressed behind her eyes.

            “I can hear you, but I never see you. Whenever I try to follow your voice, it’s Doyle’s face that I meet,” she said and I dropped my gaze to the floor after finishing her bandaging.

            “I’m pretty sure I got all the glass, but it doesn’t look like it’ll take long to heal. Not that I’d know or anything,” I informed, getting to my feet. KC was watching me closely, her eyes gazing into mine. I rested my hands on the counter on either side of my mate, her eyes glinting with… something. My wolf suddenly became aware of my dominant position over he and all he could see was our mate sitting in front of us, looking innocent under the lights of the kitchen, her skin smooth and lips red. Unconsciously, I slowly began leaning in, but when my KC’s breath fanned my face my wolf felt the rejection of her not returning.

            “Please, Damon, I just can’t right now,” she whispered, her words stabbing my wolf. I nodded weakly, my fingers bawling into fists. KC slid off of the counter and I moved out of her way, staying close as she slowly made her way back towards the bed. She didn’t say another word as we both slid under the covers, KC facing towards the window, and me facing KC.