Delicate

Chapter 11

Shame fills me at the memory of being so powerless last night, at breaking down and crying in front of someone I didn't even know. On top of all that, I was stubborn, mean and useless, yet he stayed with me and helped me. 

And I, in response, shut the door in his face without so much as a thank you. I wince with my entire body at the memory, further shame and guilt easing its way into me.

But it'd all been too much at the time.

It had been way too much for just one night. The darkness, the memories, and another person's touch. It all just built itself together to leave me fractured at the weight of it.

It was overwhelming, to remember the things I'd buried all while having someone looming over me. 

I needed to be alone, needed to know I was truly safe and alone. But the moment I had, I'd completely fallen apart. 

My recollection of the past mixed themselves in with the events of last night, the result leaving my skin crawling with discomfort while my stomach twisted with the need to be emptied. Damon's helpful touch being overlayered by their painful administrations and it left me shattered.

No matter how much I scrubbed my skin under the warm water that eventually turned cold, I still felt just as dirty. 

Sassy returns my way and I shake my head to push the painful memories back. I make quick work of picking up and throwing away her mess, gagging throughout the task while Sassy watched with a happy tongue flopping out of her mouth. I shake my head at her, my heart warming at her helpless innocence, I pet her a little longer than usual before we make our way back inside.

My eyes drag themselves back to the door that had 304 plastered on top while I open my own. I push inside my own room, refilling Sassy's food and water bowl, before stumbling back to my bed. 

I sit down with a sigh of relief before looking towards the large knife that was on my nightstand and belonged to the man who lived in the apartment across from my own.

Damon.

I pick it up before I can change my mind. Holding my breath with the fear of somehow stabbing myself, I was clumsy enough to do that and end up bleeding out on my bed.

I spin it slowly in my grasp as I examine it. It was heavy which I didn't know if was normal or not for knives, but this one was. It was made of long, smooth steel which curved gently at the end with a large, wooden handle that was bumpy all over in contrast.

I hold it carefully in my grasp, my thumb rubbing across the intricate detailing that was placed into the wood, yet I couldn't make out what it was.
I feel around but my touch fails to translate anything into images. I don't stop touching it as I think of the owner.

Damon. I wondered if that was his real name. I couldn't imagine him lying about it after he grilled me to get my own out of me. My eyes narrow remembering how he'd somehow known with ease that I was lying.

I felt a little guilty about it now but it was always better to be safe. My attempts were in vain though, the guy somehow knew I was lying without breaking a sweat.

It was weird. Impressive, but still weird.

A shiver runs through me with the shadow of his hands on me still lingering. He hadn't even touched me, not really. True to his word, not once did he let his skin meet mine.

Still, I'd expected it to hurt more than it did, expected to fall into a state of panic, but I hadn't. Maybe it was because there was no direct contact, but even that in the past made me break down. Yet with him, last night, it was different. It wasn't fine by any means, but it was tolerable...