He locked the doors as I sat in the passenger seat. He didn't even tie me up. Or take my phone. Damien sat in the drivers seat and placed his hands on the wheel, "I'm not going to hurt you. There's a friend of mine that needs help, okay?" I nodded slowly and folded my hands into my lap. He's not going to hurt me. He said he wasn't going to hurt me. I'm going to be okay. Or maybe I wanted him to shoot me. Maybe then I'd feel something. Then maybe I wouldn't feel numb anymore. So I sat there, staring out the window, then to him. Damien didn't seem like the type of man to hurt someone, or at least not a lady. He seemed very tense. He clutched so tightly onto the steering wheel, that his knuckles were completely white, and his shoulders were raised. His hair was already different from when I first 'met' him. It was no longer slick back with gel. Pieces of his raven hair dangled in front of his deep brown eyes, but it didn't bother him.
He almost seemed familiar.
"Do you remember me?" He questioned silently. I looked to him, my body trembling. I was afraid to know what the truth was.
"No. I don't."
Damien nodded slowly and grasped tighter onto the steering wheel and readjusted himself, "Do you remember a manor-" "A manor." I interrupted. A manor. He looked at me for between moment from the road. "A manor." I repeatedly, mostly too myself. "Yes!" He snapped, "A manor! A mansion! Something, do you remember it?!" I closed my eyes. I remember a garden. Lots of flowers. Cobblestone pathway. My throat ached. It burned and pressure wrapped around my throat till my airways were cut off. I gasped and clawed at my throat. And then it went away. Someone was in the garden. A man. He was tallish, brown hair. Small stature. His face. I couldn't see his face.
"There's a garden." I finally announced, "I only see a garden." Damien nodded and relaxed, "That's good enough."
When I looked back out the window, a rather large building rested on the top of the hill. A mansion. The mansion. My head started to ache as we drew closer to the building, along with my throat and abdomen. "Have I been here before?" I asked Damien. He said nothing. My mind swirled with thoughts, thoughts that made every inch of my body ache. Was I going to die here? I think Damien knew what was going to happen to me. He knew everything.
"You lived here once." He mumbled.
My eyes widened, "When?"
We pulled into the driveway. And Damien left the car, coming around to my side so he could open the door for me. At least he was a gentlemen. He held my hand to help me out of the vehicle, then pulled me close to his chest. Damien took a deep breath before he released me. He wiped his eyes and turned to the manor, "This is my home." I smiled softly and continued to walk with him. We stood on the front porch. I was overcome my Deja vu. I've been here before. I held my head and rested against the wall. Did he drug me? No, he said that he didn't want to hurt me. Damien gave me a concerned look, holding out his hands to me. "No." I spoke sharply, "Don't touch me, I'm fine." He nodded slowly and tucked his hands behind his back, then opening the front door. My feet landed on the smooth tile floors. There was a spiral staircase to my right, and a kitchen to my left. The manor was massive. "You live here alone?" I question. "Sometimes." Was all he said. I didn't understand. "Follow me." He gently grabbed my hand. He was trembling, badly. Damien pulled up down the hallway, past the kitchen, and the dining room, the living room, and more. Till we were at the end of the hall. A bedroom.
"My friend is in here. But do not worry," He sighed and looked to the floor, "He won't understand."
When he opened the door, and pushed ourselves inside, it smelt old. Like what an old library would smell like, with all the books an cobwebs. It was fairly clean though. Clothes were tucked away in their drawers, and shoes were in the closet. It was quite stranger for a boy to be sleeping here.
But in the corner of the room, sat a maroon chair. He sat there.
"Jack." I breathlessly called.
Yet he didn't move. He didn't flinch or blink. He only sat and looked out the window. I held myself and looked at Damien, "What's wrong with him? What's wrong with Jack?" "Jack?" Damien frowned turning to me. He was confused by the name. "Oh." He cleared his throat, "Jack is...ill." I nervously bit my nails as I closely approached Jack.
His eyes were dull, almost white in color completely. His skin was cold, and his brain seemed to be dead. Or his heart. "Jack." I placed a hand on his shoulder softly, "Jack, can you hear me?" I waved a hand in front of his face. He had no response. "His heart is broken." Damien sighed, "Shattered, I guess." "Broken?" I echoed, "How is that even possible-" "(Y/N)?" Jack's ghostly voice called, "(Y/N)? Is that you?" I jerked away from him. I felt uncomfortable. Everything felt weird in this manor.
Familiar, yet distant.
"He doesn't know that you're actually here." Damien announced, "It's like he's dreaming. He's not quiet lucid." "How do we fix it?" I trembled. I grasped Jack's hand, staring into his grey eyes.
"Hey, hey! It's alright, I'm here now." "Stop crying, Love"
I sharply pulled away, holding my own chest. "What was that?' Damien shrugged his shoulders and turned away, "A memory?" "You know what's going on!" I yelled, "You know what's wrong with me-" "Yes, I do, but it's nothing I can fix!" I sighed and turned away from Jack, playing with my shirt, twisting it around my fingertips.
"Then what can I do?" I begged, "What can I do to help myself, and Jack?"
YOU ARE READING
Shattered (Antisepticeye x Reader)
FanfictionYou work in a mansion. You clean floors and dishes and bedrooms. There's nothing special about you. You were hired by a gentleman named Mark, he's always been a secretive man, always going on business trips, or having meeting in the dining. ...
