^^this edit perfectly represents how Ash feels about his stepfather (source is desnos on tumblr)
Also off topic y'all but my school sucks so bad. I hate it there 😭😭
Do you ever feel like you're so sad you're numb? You can't move. Can't do anything. After crying myself to sleep last night, I lay in bed, blankly staring at the wall. I still have that horrible pain in my chest, it throbs with it as my mind forces me to relive Daemon snapping at me. It emphasizes every word he said, telling me how much he must hate me.
I know he said he didn't mean it, but how could he have said it and not meant it? What did I expect when I did the worst thing possible: bring up his dead mom when he's drunk. I don't know why I did that. I was desperate for connection. I wanted to be someone he could confide in. Kind of...like how you'd rely on a mate. I wanted to be that for him. But Lylah's talk about us possibly being mates just got to my head and I went too far. I'm the worst. I know that.
When I think about how happy we were, how good our relationship felt, I feel like shit. I spoiled it. Why does it feel like everything's going wrong? And that I seem to be the cause of it all. What is it about me that drives people away?
I recall the memory of a few weeks after my mom died. I was locked in the cellar as usual, because my stepfather didn't want me bothering him and his friends while they drank. Last time they'd been over, I'd burst out crying when one of them twisted my arm in the process of forcing me to sit on his lap.
Needless to say, I wasn't allowed to be out while they were over for a few weeks after that. Of course, that was before they came up with the idea to use me as their human ashtray. I was fun for them. As I got older and my body developed, instead of being annoyed by my crying, they started to like it. They found pleasure in hurting me just to see my reaction, whether it was crying or shielding myself in fright. They thought of it as a game, and I was the prey. My stepfather never let them go too far. The worst damage to me was reserved for him.
Almost got sidetracked there. What I was saying was that I was locked down there, right? I was only 10 at the time. It goes like this:
My stepfather comes down after a few long, agonizing hours. I plead for him to let me out. I tell him I'll promise to play outside and won't bother them at all. But he ignores all of that. He looks me straight in the eyes.
"You miss your mommy?" he asks.
At the mention of her, my eyes get wet. I tell him yes. I really do miss her so much.
He kneels in front of where I sit, grabbing my face roughly in one of his hands. "You know why she died?"
I nod my head. Mommy was sick. She had an illness she couldn't fight.
My stepfather laughs dryly. "Ah, you may think you know. But the real reason she died is that she couldn't stand being here with you anymore,"
I blink in confusion. "T-that's not true. M-Mommy loves me. She said!" I tremble as his grip on my face tightens. He could crush my face. He could if he wanted, using only that one hand.
"Mommy was a good liar, wasn't she? You dumb runt. Why would she love you? You're worthless. Even your daddy left ya, didn't he?"
"She loves me! She loves me!" I insist. "She said daddy did too!"
My stepfather yanks my face toward him. "You poor little thing, actually believing that," he coos. "You really are pathetic, aren't you?"
"D-don't know what that means!" I squeak, hoping he won't hit me.
"It means that no one wants you. No one loves you. But don't worry. Everyone else in your life will leave you. But I won't. I'm going to keep you locked up forever. Or maybe I'll be nice and put you where your mommy went,"
"D-Don't wanna die," I shake my head. Because mommy didn't go to a wonderful place in the clouds like everyone said at the funeral. I saw that wooden box she was in getting buried into the dirt. There was a flat gray stone above it with her name on it, too. 'Minerva Willow', the tombstone read. And next to her stone was a little one. It had my name on it. Is that what Alpha Ferix means when he says he's going to put me with mommy? Is he going to bury me next to her?
"But you don't get to decide that, do you?" he sneers, eyes glowing in malice.
I can only cry in response. He beats me extra hard that night, the worst he's ever done since I started living with him. I decide it's not safe to talk about mommy and daddy around him anymore.
And that's where my fear is rooted. The fear that those I love are going to keep leaving me. The fear that my stepfather was right. I know he twisted events, manipulated them. But I was so young and gullible I found myself believing them. And even though I'm older now, it's hard to sort the real and the not real things he told me. Because the things he did to me stay with me. They may blur and distort in my mind, but they are always there.
Having recalled the terrible memory, I feel nauseous. Usually when I feel depressed I try to think about Daemon, but now even that's not possible. I sniffle, pulling out my phone to text Lylah. I don't open the dozens of messages from Daemon. It would be too painful.
Her last text to me is asking how everything went with Wren. I disregard that. I don't want to tell her I found that photo with my face scratched out. It's too humiliating. How I really thought going over there would fix things when he so obviously despises me.
Lylah
Me: I ruined everything with him
Her typing bubble immediately pops up.
Lylah: With Wren???
Me: no
Me: Daemon
Lylah: GIRL WHAT
Me: I feel miserable
Lylah: IM COMING OVER ASAP. WILL BRING ICE-CREAM AND TISSUES
I smile weakly, appreciating that she's here for me. But nothing can overpower the looming sadness inside me. The second Lylah arrives she asks if I'm okay I run into her arms, desperate to be consoled. She holds me tight, cooing words of comfort. When I'm finally in a condition to speak, she asks me what happened. I don't tell her the full story, not wanting to breach Daemon's privacy even further. Just that I was pushing him to tell me what was wrong when he was clearly very upset and he snapped at me.
"I'm gonna break his face!" She declares once I'm finished. "Anyone who hurts my bestie is gonna get it!" She fumes, jumping up and pacing around the room.
I sniffle, still looking like a lifeless lump on the bed. "I miss him," I start to cry again, burying my face in the mountain of tissues she brought.
"No, none of that," Lylah comes back over to me, putting her hands on her hips. "He doesn't get to be missed after what he did,"
"But I'm the one who—"
"Ash. I say this in the nicest way possible but you do not perceive things how they actually are. You think everything is your fault when it's not. This is not your fault. You wanted to comfort your fuckin man and he curses and shouts at you. That's not—" she bangs a fist into her palm, "That's not okay!"
But she's not done. "If my girl did that I would've slapped her! On god. I know that's the difference between me and you but seriously, Ash! You can't just be so passive about this,"
"T-Then what do I do?"
"You promise me that if he shows up here begging for forgiveness you're not going to give in. He needs to think about what he's done."
"Really?" I ask.
"Yes," she nods, "You have to make him suffer for at least a week."
"A week?!" I exclaim. No. That's too long.
"Yes. Now repeat after me. 'I did nothing wrong.'"
"I-I did n-nothing wrong," it feels foreign on my tongue. It doesn't feel like a true statement at all.
"And 'Daemon's a shit bag',"
"I c-can't say that Lylah,"
"Er...okay. Then, 'I'm not gonna forgive him'" she urges.
"I-I'm not going to forgive him,"
"Got it?"
"Yeah..." I don't know if I really do, though. I always feel like I'm the one who needs to be forgiven when something like this happens, not the other way around.
Lylah tells me I need to do something therapeutic to calm down and suggests a walk to the park. So I reluctantly roll out of bed. I go to the bathroom and rinse my face with cool water, nearly wincing at how tender it feels. The whites of my eyes and the rim of them are so red it's obvious how much I've been crying.
My leg is sore from the gash on it from scraping it against the stairs. It looks bloody and red and makes me queasy. From experience, I know large lacerations can turn into disgusting infections so I force myself to clean it with some rubbing alcohol despite my utter lack of motivation to put effort into anything. My hair is all tangled too but I don't bother with brushing it. I throw on a hoodie stained red with hot Cheeto powder. In conclusion: I look like a mess.
When I re-emerge from the restroom Lylah gives me a once over, raising an eyebrow. "Hun you cannot go out looking like that. You gotta look good to feel good,"
"Nothing will make me feel good," I groan, slumping back down on the bed.
"Not even ice cream? I brought your fave. Choco taco."
I kind of perk up at that, looking to her eagerly. "Ah ah ah," she shakes her finger at me. "You let me brush your hair and put on some clean clothes first. Then you get the taco,"
So I give in. Drowning my sorrows in a chocolate taco seems like the perfect thing to do right now.
*
We walk around the park eating our ice cream. Lylah keeps stopping to do squats because she 'wants her ass to look good for Yvonne.' Her carrying out her usual behavior helps me distract myself from how depressed I am. I try to enjoy the peace of the moment, too, but my eyes are so sensitive right now, burning from the sunlight. I probably should have brought sunglasses.
"Hey do you think my butt looks bigger?" she asks me, turning to give me a full view of her behind.
"How would it already be bigger after a few minutes of squats?"
"Are you saying it's small?!" she gasps in offense.
Oops. "N-No it's perfectly, uh proportional," I reassure her. I already feel tired. I just want to go back home and mope now that I've finished my ice cream.
She just sighs and continues walking with me. After getting our prescribed about of sunlight according to the WebMD article Lylah read, we head back to the house. It's not too far from the park. Everything going fine, I'm even starting to feel a little bit better. Until we reach the house and see a certain person standing in wait.
The second we approach, Daemon turns toward the sound of us. His eyes immediately land on me, a desperate look on his face.
"Oh boy," Lylah mutters under her breath.
He comes toward us and I freeze, not able to move. "Can we talk, Ash?" he asks.
I can't speak. I just stare at him with wide eyes, trying to recall what Lylah told me to do in this situation. Lylah looks at me, seeing that I'm frozen.
"He doesn't want to," she tells Daemon.
Daemon ignores her. All his attention is trained on me. He looks worse than yesterday, deathly dark circles under his eyes.
"Baby, please. Let me talk to you,"
I find myself slowly shaking my head, almost doing it involuntarily as I grip Lylah's arm for support. I can't face him. I can't even look at him without the hurt of what he said coming back to me.
"Ash," Lylah whispers, "Say something,"
I swallow nervously, locking eyes with Daemon who looks apprehensive of my answer. My heart clenches as I look at him. The wound is still so fresh. "N-no," I say.
Daemon's shoulders slump in defeat. He looks on the verge of begging me to hear him out, but he clenches his jaw in resistance. I start to walk away, leaving him dejected. But Lylah isn't done. She jabs a pointed acrylic nail at his chest. "You don't deserve him," she glares, then turns back to me. We go inside the house, and I don't look back at him.
We look outside from my window a few minutes later, spotting Daemon sitting on the steps of the porch, fists clenched as his head is bowed. I feel a pang of sympathy for him. Did I hurt him?
Lylah closes the blinds, blocking my view. "Don't feel bad for him. He lashed out at you knowing full well how sensitive you are. He knew, but he did it anyway," she huffs.
"But I-I want to go to him," I say, despite barely even being to face him just now.
"No, Ash. You can't! You have to show him it's not okay for him to treat you like that!"
Lylah's decision on the situation is set in stone. I can't change her mind so I don't argue anymore. I don't know when I'll be able to see Daemon again.
*
Lucien tells me the next day that Daemon was sent off on a mission so even if I did decide to forgive him, I couldn't. I ache for him. I miss him. I even resent Lylah for holding me back that day.
Yet I'm still hurt by what Daemon said at the same time. It's a battle between blaming myself and also being bitter at him for saying it in the first place. I just wish I could reverse everything that happened.
I'm so depressed I get to school late every day, running on barely any sleep. I don't talk to Jay in any classes anymore, and he moved his seat. That just makes me more upset. In math, I lay my head down on my books, bored out of my mind by the work we're doing. He was the one that made this class fun. I stare sadly at his back. Tears well up in my eyes before I remember I'm in school and I quickly wipe them away with my sleeve.
When I've successfully erased the evidence of my tears, I look up, jolting when I see Jay's watching at me. I quickly turn away. Shoot. Did he see me crying? That's so embarrassing...
I rush out of class to avoid him. The next few days I find him doing the same thing. He's observing me. I don't have the energy to care this time. I spend most of my time in my classes sleeping to try and drown out the misery I feel. I shouldn't have let Daemon leave on the mission without talking. Why did I do that?
At lunch, Lylah tells me she's going to sit with Wren. I don't join her. I tell her I wasn't able to make up with him yet. Since I have no other friends, I spend my time sitting alone in the hallway while everyone eats in the cafeteria.
I try to draw a bit but my hand aches from how cold it is today. It always aches when temperatures drop, because the bones never healed properly. I look out the window at the end of the hall. The skies have been dark and stormy all afternoon, matching my mood.
I pull my hood on, just sitting there with my back against the lockers. I stare straight ahead at the ground. I hate being like this. A ball of misery. I'm about to get up and wander around some more when I see a pair of Jordans standing in front of me. The wearer of the large shoes is obstructed by my hood, but the second he speaks I recognize it.
"Ash?" Jay's voice questions.
I quickly pull back my hood, looking up at him. "O-Oh. Hi Jay," I manage a weak smile. I'm...a bit surprised. Why is he suddenly speaking to me again?
"Why are you sitting here alone?" he asks.
"I-I'm just giving my friends some space. Wren's not very happy with m-me right now,"
I don't expect it when he lowers himself to the ground, sitting down next to me. "Did you guys fight? Is that why you've been so down the past few days?"
So he did notice. I guess I could be more discreet about how depressed I am. "Kind of...it's also because--" but I quickly stop myself. If I say it's because of what happened with Daemon that would be insensitive since I rejected Jay for him...
"What?"
"N-Nevermind," I say, shaking my head.
Jay looks contemplative for a moment. "It's because of Daemon, isn't it?"
My eyes widen and I look at him in shock. "H-How did you—?"
"The guy you like. It's him, right?"
I bite my lip. "Yeah...how did you know?"
"It wasn't hard to see. When you went missing after the game he was so angry. He wouldn't let anyone touch you. He almost killed Henry, for Christ's sake. He had that air of protectiveness that no one dared cross. And you...whenever he was brought up in a conversation you'd light up. It was so damn obvious, yet I pretended like it wasn't. I held onto the hope that I still had a chance,"
"S-sorry Jay," I don't know how else to comfort him. The memory of how Daemon saved me just makes me miss him all the more.
Jay shrugs. "I'm over it...I think."
"Oh," I say dumbly.
"So Daemon did do something?"
I hesitate. Is this okay to tell him? Well, he did ask. So eventually I nod my head. The mention of it already has me tearing up so I quickly wipe my eyes. I miss Daemon so much, yet I'm still so hurt.
"I don't get it, Ash. Why do you like someone that makes you cry like this?"
I sniffle, shaking my head. Because he's Daemon. That's why I like him. Because no one else is him.
Jay suddenly grabs my hand, an urgent look in his eyes. "If--If it was me, I'd never make you cry,"
Why isn't he giving up? I thought he said he was over it. "I'm s-sorry but I don't—"
"You don't see me that way. I know. But if you ever change your mind...I'm here," he puts my hand over his heart, clasping it tightly. The pulse is quick beneath my fingertips.
"I need—I need a friend right now, Jay," I weep. Not someone whose only interest in me is romantic.
"I can be that. I promise I can be that for you," he says sincerely. "If I can keep you in my life, I'll be anything you need me to be,"
He pulls me into a hug and I gratefully hug him back, letting my tears flow. He's a big guy and his arms fully envelop my small frame, but it doesn't compare to Daemon's embrace. But it's nice even to be held by a friend. I'm sorry I don't see you in that way, Jay. And I'm sorry that I'm indulging in the comfort you can provide anyway.
We stay like that until the bell rings, getting weird looks from people passing by. So he gets up and holds a hand out to me, helping me up too.
"Walk you to class?" He proposes, grinning at me. I nod gratefully. I'm glad we made up.
*
Going home from school I feel a bit better, but not really. Even though making up with Jay was a good thing that I'm glad happened, the other negatives in my life overpower it. I'm attempting to do my homework after staring at it blankly for half an hour when I hear a knock on my door. Assuming Lucien's just come home, I say, "Come in!"
The door opens slowly and I scramble to stand up from the bed. Because it's not Lucien. It's his son. Daemon looks worn down and scruffy, obviously having just gotten back from his mission.
"I know I'm being a fucking pain, but I just--I couldn't go home without seeing you," he says, his voice raw and vulnerable. I feel a whirlwind of emotions as the words leave his mouth, yet all I can do is tear up at the sight of him. "Daemon," my voice trembles when I say it. I put my hands over my face, turning away. How do I face him now?
I don't have to think long about how to deal with the situation because then he's embracing me from behind, pulling me against him. "I'm sorry, Ash. I'm so sorry," he murmurs, my back to his chest.
It's like the strength has left my legs and I sink to the ground, Daemon going with me. One touch and I'm weak, realizing how much I've missed the warm cage of his arms. "Daemon..!" I say his name with anguish. "I-I shouldn't have let you leave like that. I'm sorry for turning you a-away," I start to cry, the regret of everything flooding in.
"Don't apologize for anything. I'm the one who fucked up,"
I shake my head, sniffling as he pulls me in even tighter. "It's okay,"
"No, it's not. I was shit to you." he buries his face in the crook of my neck, kissing me tenderly there. "I'm so sorry,"
I take in a few deep breaths, hiccuping and trying to calm down as he just holds me, his grip tight yet not painful, just enough to show me that he doesn't want to let me go. I don't want him to let me go, either. My hands come to grasp his strong arms that wrap around my shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.
He takes this as a sign to loosen them and when he does, I turn, throwing my arms around his neck. "I forgive you," I say softly. He wastes no time crushing me in his embrace again, pulling me fully into his lap.
He doesn't say anything so I pull back to look at his face, tenderly caressing it with my hand. "I missed you so much," I whimper, more tears rolling down my face. He goes to wipe them away with his thumb, then gently brushes the hair out of my eyes.
"The redhead's right, you know. I don't deserve you," he says quietly, his brows creasing in sincerity.
"No," I shake my head. "She's not. I'm the one w-who doesn't deserve you,"
Daemon frowns. "Why would that be?"
"Because I'm s-so stupid sometimes. And I frustrate you. A-And I'm a burden that you never asked for. I f-feel guilty that you even have to d-deal with me," I admit.
He brings his forehead to mine, his expression pained. "That's not true baby. None of it. And I'm a piece of shit for making you feel that way,"
I look at him a moment before I start to cry again. How am I supposed to believe that? Does he really not see me as a burden?
"Shit," Daemon pulls my head under his chin, gently stroking my back up and down. "I didn't mean to make you cry more,"
"'m sorry," I sniffle, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly in my hands.
"No more apologies," he kisses my forehead. "Don't feel bad for having fucking emotions. It's better than keeping everything inside until you explode at the worst moment. Like I did,"
We're quiet for a while after that, my head resting against his chest as I try to ground myself.
"Why do you do that, Daemon? Why do you keep it inside?" I finally ask.
He's quiet for a moment. "Because...it's hard to talk about. I have this feeling of dread when I think about how people will react. How they'll think of me once they know."
I can relate to that all too well. That's why I've never told anyone about what my stepfather did to me. Because I don't want them to think of me as an unstable freak. To pity me.
"I-I get it. You don't have to tell me what happened if it's uncomfortable for you,"
"No," Daemon immediately dissents, "I want to give you an explanation. It doesn't excuse me lashing out like that but...I at least want to tell you why,"
"You can trust me. I'll never judge you," I reassure, snuggling up against him.
He takes a deep breath, absentmindedly stroking his hand up my arm. "Okay...The day you came to the packhouse. It was the anniversary of my mother's death. Rose's death."
TBC. Next chap we will look into Daemon's past!!