Broken Promises

~chapter two~

Zara Coleman

"Why can't you just tell me where you were, for once?" I start to raise my voice, getting quite annoyed with Damien's antics.

"Because, darling, it doesn't matter." He says sternly, trying to keep his voice at a normal tone.

"But it matters to me. You never tell me anything. Whether it be where you go, your backstory or even what you do as a job for God's sake. You never share anything with me and it's really starting to piss me off." I finally start to get fed up, really trying to prove a point.

I expect Damien to give me one of his smart-ass answers or one of his cocky smirks, call me sweetheart and convince me that he loves me. But instead his chocolate eyes get a few shades darker, they turn almost black and it throws me off in the slightest. His posture gets a little straighter before throwing a wink and a smirk my way and turns around in one swift motion.

Without a word and without another glance my way, Damien yanks the apartment door open, walks right out and slams the door in his trace.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen area, in a daze, completely shocked by his actions. I can't say I'm surprised that he was capable of doing this since he's done it a couple of other times, but I didn't expect it in the slightest.

I rummage through the kitchen cabinets, trying to find something to eat before I starve to death. Since I'm relatively short, reaching almost every cabinet requires a chair to add some height to me.

Every cupboard is empty, except one. Unfortunately, there's no food in it but there is a shoe box that I've never seen before, which means it has to belong to Damien.

I bring the box down with me and sit on a stool beside the table in the center of the kitchen. The box rattles as I move, indicating there are many contents in it.

As I lift the lid of the shoe box, I'm greeted with the sight of -what seems to be-, hundreds of burnt matches. I didn't ever think burnt matches was something anyone, let alone Damien, would collect. He doesn't seem like the guy who would have a collection this odd.

I leave the box on the table and stroll into our room to wait for Damien to come back.

---

"Because you don't need to know everything Zara, give it up!" He raises his voice at me. I glance at the clock, 10:08 pm, we've been arguing ever since he got home, over half an hour ago.

"I'm not asking to know everything, that's not what I want. All I want to know is why you have hundreds of burnt matches stored in a shoe box, is that too much to ask?" I state, getting frustrated by his stubbornness.

"Yes. It's too much to ask, God Dammit sweetheart, just get the hint, you're not going to win this argument. There's no need to be so persistent, it's just a collection, I promise." Damien says, almost yelling. Tears prick my eyes before muttering a single word and storming out of our apartment.

"Fine."

Walking in the streets of New York alone at night wasn't the smartest idea on my part. I was just so fed up I needed to be alone. But as I walk to my favorite coffee shop on this street, I don't feel like I'm alone. I feel some sort of presence walking near me, but as I turn around, there's no one there. Weird.

I duck into the small shop and instantly, I start to smell smoke. I assume it's just one of their machines or burnt food, so I don't pay much attention to it.

Suddenly the scent of smoke gets stronger and I don't want to stay here any longer.

I shuffle into the apartment, quietly, because Damien might be asleep. Which he is when I walk into the room. I fall into bed and cuddle up next to him. I fall asleep before I get the chance to notice Damien wasn't asleep.

"Goodnight sweetheart, I promise I won't let the heat engulf you."