Warnings ⚠: Child Abuse, Rape, Violence, Religion, Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Use of Slurs, Homophobia, Bullying, Mention of Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Actions, Gun Use
Josiah's P.O.V.
-Saturday, October 30th-
I have never once missed someone more than I miss Damien right now .
By morning, it's to the point where I'm really just tempted to leave and go home, to be with familiar people. At a familiar place.
But, I don't think I should.
It's almost a choice between being home and being with Damien again.
Because, if I left... I don't know if he would be okay with that. I think he would be mad.
I'm mad at him for leaving and it wasn't even his choice.
Point is, I do not like being left here with his butler .
It almost feels like I'm being babysat. I hate that.
I'm not a little kid.
I'm not a baby, no matter what Damien says.
I could stay here alone...
I could be anywhere alone. I have been my whole fucking life.
I did not like being forced to eat dinner yesterday.
And as soon as he texts me that it's time for breakfast/lunch, I go into the closet and shut the door tightly.
Damien would be pissed.
I hope this old guy isn't reporting back to him or anything.
I'll be in a lot of trouble then.
The bedroom door opens and he calls for me.
Great. We're doing this again. I hate this.
If I'm quiet, he won't know...
Within a second, he's knocking on the closet door.
Fuck.
I flinch and curl up against the wall.
That sound makes me want to stab myself or something...
It's horrifying.
"May I come in?" He asks after a moment.
I'm not in here.
If I'm quiet, he won't even know.
"No." I reply.
Or not...?
This is why I get into trouble so much. Because I can't control myself.
I run both my hands into my hair and start pulling.
"I made you Pop-Tarts. When you're ready." He says.
I shift a bit to be pressed tightly into the corner.
A minute passes and I don't hear him leave.
He's underestimating my ability to stay in here all day. I could easily stay here until Damien gets back, even.
... Maybe.
I could when I was little.
"Do you need anything?" He asks.
I pull harder on my hair. "Open the door." I tell him.
He wastes no time, opening the door. I glare up at him.
"What do you want from me?" I question sharply.
"I just need to make sure you're okay, and that you get enough to eat." He replies.
I tug on my hair and look down at the ground instead.
"I'll be okay if you leave me alone. Stop coming in here," I order, "Are you reporting back to Damien?"
"No. But you need to eat."
"It's one fucking day. What's wrong with you people?" I mutter.
"We care about you."
The hell...?
I press my head back against the wall and start digging my fingernails into my arm.
This is weird. People are weird.
" You don't know me." I mutter.
"I don't have to. I care about Damien and you mean everything to him. So, I care about you."
Damien has said that, too. That Pierre loves me because he loves me. As if that's how it works.
"That's what he said, too." I say cautiously.
It's like they're all planning something together...
"Because it's true."
Because everyone fucking lies all the time .
I need Damien. I trust him when he's here.
When we just cuddle and talk and even though he gets mad sometimes, everything is okay.
And I can usually trust that he won't hurt me.
"Go away and don't come back up here. Close the door. Goodbye." I tell him.
"I'll leave, but I'm giving you your food first."
"I won't eat." I warn.
That hasn't worked on Damien even once. He always gives stuff to me anyway.
Then I need to waste it, which makes me feel worse.
But eating it would be wasting it, too. I just can't win.
"Well. It will be here. I have orange juice, too. I'll be right back."
I watch him leave and immediately realize that I need a new hiding spot.
I could just go hide in Damien's room. He wouldn't expect me to be in there.
That would confuse him. I'm sure he could never find me there.
I'd go into Damien's bathroom and lock the door and just sit and wait for him to get back. And I won't have to worry about anything.
Or, he has a closet in his room, too. That would work the same. It might work better.
By the time I'm done contemplating, Pierre is back.
He sets things down nearby.
" Hey ," I start, not moving, letting him know I am not going to eat anything, "Don't knock on the doors. It scares me."
He'll be around for a while...
Maybe if he knows, he'll stop.
I don't know why he would, but the least I can do is ask.
"Okay. I'll just announce that I'm here. Damien said you can't see very well...?"
I shake my head. "I can't. But I don't like bad sounds."
"I'll be mindful of that. Your food is on the top of the dresser. I'll be staying downstairs. If you need anything, don't hesitate to get me."
"I can't go downstairs by myself. Damien doesn't let me." I tell him.
"...Okay. I suppose that makes sense. He said you have my phone number. Or you can just yell."
I force a nod and wait for him to leave again.
I'm still worried that he's going to tell Damien I'm not following his rules, but I can't bring myself to care.
I'm scared enough to just want to go home.
I pull the door shut, before sitting in the corner again.
Maybe he's nice.
I don't really want to risk it.
...
A few hours pass by before I decide to go take a shower.
Good idea. It's been a while.
I get up and open the door.
There's no one in here...I think.
I leave the room and go to Damien's room instead, going over to his dresser and stealing an outfit from him.
Nice.
I'm just waiting for the day he snaps at me for this. Stealing isn't okay.
But I'm not giving any of it back until he screams at me and tells me to stop.
I don't know if I'll stop there either...?
What's wrong with me?
I go into his bathroom.
A bathroom...connected to his bedroom...
How?
Why ?
I don't know. This whole house confuses me. It's huge and has like a billion of each type of room.
I bet there's a roller skating rink in the basement. That's what Damien is hiding.
I crack a smile.
He doesn't want me to know, but I figured it out. Because I'm smart .
... I just don't care enough to worry about it. That's why I won't ask him.
It would just serve to make him mad.
Like most of the shit I say anyways...
Dammit.
" Dammit ." I say out loud.
I can't be happy for more than ten seconds without Damien.
At least wearing his clothes and stuff is going to make things easier. Maybe I can trick my brain into thinking he's here.
Probably not. But it'll help a little.
I know it does because of when he gave me his sweatshirt.
It made things easier...
Okay.
I'm going to take a shower, then go sit in his bed for a little while. Maybe I'll do some homework, or study something. Or take a nap.
I didn't sleep at all last night. I need him.
Maybe I'll be able to sleep.
Maybe .
...
The shower was basically just a nonstop panic attack all throughout. As soon as I drag myself out, I realize that I should probably talk to Damien so I can calm down at least a bit.
I sit down on the floor once clothed, sending him a text.
Josiah: are you busy right now?
Damien: im in a park i think. Whats up?
Josiah: I'm hiding from the butler
Damien: you Don't have to hide from him
Damien: OHMYGOD JOSIAH THERES A DOG
Damien: IM PETTING IT
Josiah: I have to hide from him or he'll talk to me
Damien: THE OWNER SPEAKS SOME ENGLISH
Damien: IF MY SPANISH IS CORRECT ITS EITHER NAMED MUFFIN OR HANDTOWEL
Josiah: what kind of dog is it
Josiah: of course your Spanish isn't correct
Damien: a Burmese Mountain. Dog
Damien: i was wrong. Talking to the girl more and she said his name is coffee
Damien: Oh no I fucked up
Josiah: whats wrong??
Damien: haha the girl gave me her number
Damien: whoops. I guess i was flirting sorry
Josiah: you were??
Damien: not on purpose!
Josiah: you guys don't even speak the same language
Damien: can i call you? I miss you.
Damien: What? She spoke some English. I threw away her number.
Josiah: some English haha
Josiah: no I'm busy
Damien: Okay.
Damien: What r u doing
Josiah: hiding in your bathroom
Josiah: im busy crying
Josiah: is that better
Damien: Hey Don't cry. Let me call you
One missed call from Damien Cohen
Damien: please
Josiah: nooooo
Josiah: we can't. I'll say something and make you upset again
Damien: I just want to hear your voice. I got a burrito and im taking it back to the hotel anyway
Josiah: im scared maybe we should talk later
Damien: um i should be home anywhere from 1am to 3am
Josiah: okay I'll stay up and wait
Josiah: and then we can cuddle when you get home
Damien: if you want too
Josiah: I won't need to be scared once you're back
Damien: you dont have to be scared now
Josiah: I just took a shower and I haven't been able to breathe for about an hour now
Josiah: its pretty scary
Damien: just answer the phone. You dont have to talk. I will
Josiah: okay but I'm freaking out right now. Don't take anything I say too seriously
Damien: Okay im calling
My phone goes off again and I answer it immediately.
I hold it up to my ear and take in a shaky breath. "H-Hi..." I murmur.
"Hi. You're inside, right? And in a safe place?" Damien asks.
A part of me is a little relieved to at least hear his voice.
"Yeah, but..." I sigh deeply, "It doesn't feel s-safe."
At all .
I'm just stuck in this big house, not knowing where anything is. And being alone with a stranger.
"You are safe. Just pretend I'm there. Get like one of my shirts or something. You said those help."
"I-I did. I s-stole your c-clothes."
"Good," There's a bit of shuffling noises and then he comes back, "Take a deep breath."
"But I c-can't breathe. You're really m-missing the point h-here."
I turn the phone to speaker and set it down so I can tug on my hair with both hands.
Why does pain make things easier?
"I just want y-you to c-come back." I tell him.
"I'll be back soon. Maybe we can try breathing together. Like, when I say to breathe in , you breathe in with me, and then when I say breathe out , we breathe out? Yeah?"
"It's too h-hard. I... I can't."
My chest hurts from trying.
"I know you can, Josiah."
"It hurts..." I whine.
He doesn't understand...!
"You have too at some point. You're better to do it now than later."
" Okay ." I manage.
I press my hand against my chest. My heart feels like it's trying to run away, or something...
That, in addition to my lungs fucking burning...
I'm dying . For sure. I can't tell Damien though. He would be sad .
"Okay we're going to breathe in on three. Then exhale on a count of three again."
It's not going to do anything.
Numbers won't trick me.
"O-Okay..." I say again.
"Okay. One, two, three." I hear him breathe in and I attempt to do the same.
I can't .
He does it a few more times and I try to follow along, but my mind won't stop reminding me that he's not here and he can't help.
"Damien." I stop him shakily. I rub my eyes hard enough to make it hurt. "It doesn't h-help. I-I'm dying."
I must be. Fear doesn't explain this .
"You're not dying , Josiah."
"But it hurts! I-I don't know...what's g-going on. It's b-been over an hour and I d-don't know what t-to do anymore."
I knew he wouldn't accept it...
"I think m-my body is giving up. I don't think it c-can b-breathe anymore." I say.
"Just relax. What helps you calm down? There has to be something..."
I clutch on to the front of the shirt.
Fuck. I miss him.
I'm dying.
" I'm dying . I have n-never once c-calmed down." I claim.
It's just constant.
Because my body is trying to give up and kill me so everything will be over.
"Well, calm enough to breathe. That's what we're working on."
"I just n-need you here. P-Playing music, and giving h-hugs, and..."
I imagine that we're on the couch hugging and he's just softly singing to me...
For a second, it's pleasant. Then I process that he's not here.
"D-Dammit." I mutter.
"...Yeah?"
"I miss y-you. I...I want to..." I stammer, "Damien. It won't g-go away."
That fucking burning in my lungs...
"I wish I was there. Or that I could do anything over the phone...! I'm really sorry, Josiah... There's nothing I can try, or...?"
He really wants to help...?
"S-Sing?" I ask softly.
"Really? Uh... Okay. Sing what?" He asks.
"I don't know!" I can't think of anything right now.
Anything I think of turns into this is punishment because you're bad. Now you're dying. This is what you get .
"Okay." He starts singing something quietly.
I try to stop and just listen to him.
If I could focus on him, everything would be okay...
I squeeze my eyes shut and start rocking a bit.
After around a minute, I start to catch my breath at least somewhat.
I cross my arms to keep myself from pulling my hair, because he would be mad if he was actually here.
"Damien..." I stop him.
"Yeah?"
"Are you m-mad at me?" I ask weakly.
"No. I'm not mad at you. Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because I'm h-hiding, and n-not eating, and pulling my hair, and I-I don't trust Pierre, and...and... I k-keep wasting y-your time."
The list is endless, and upsetting.
I don't listen .
"Hey, slow down. It's okay. I really wish you would eat, and I don't expect you to trust Pierre right away. But I love you no matter what you do. I wish you would do those things, but I'm not mad."
"But you should w-want to punish m-me..." I mumble.
If he wants me to do things, then there has to be consequences
I don't listen to people. I only respond to physical punishment.
"No. You do not deserve punishment. No matter what you think or what people have told you."
"But then I don't listen." I say.
"You're your own person. I can't make you do anything."
No, I'm not.
I belong to him right now.
"I s-said something bad again." I acknowledge.
When he starts lying to me, that's how I know.
"I just wish you were eating," He admits, "That scares me."
"Why? The weirdest thing s-scare you..." And that's coming from me. I'm afraid of people knocking on a damn door.
Everything about my life scares him.
"You not being safe scares me. Because I love you so much."
"That doesn't make me not safe ."
"Yes, it does."
"No. You just think everything is t-too dangerous for m-me."
"I just don't want to lose you."
"But things I've been doing for m-my whole life won't make y-you lose me." I point out.
After all, I'm almost seventeen years old. I know I'll be fine. I'm careful.
"They can. And any risk of losing you is too big of a risk for me."
" They can't ." I correct sharply.
Not as long as I'm careful.
Not as long as I don't want them to.
" They can , Josiah."
"I don't like your voice when you're mad."
When he's serious...it's so weird .
"I'm not mad . I'm worried . What does it sound like?"
"You s-sound like my dad scolding me. Then he starts yelling. That's why I-I always think you're going to yell." I murmur.
It's horrifying. But if he started yelling, I could just hang up like this.
Then he would be mad later.
Really mad ...
"I won't yell at you," He sighs, "I wish I could hug you."
"I know," I grab my phone and get off the floor, "I'm sorry for making you upset."
He was having fun, playing with dogs, and...flirting with women...
I ruined his whole life.
"I'm not upset. I like talking to you, believe it or not."
I go into the bedroom and drop down onto his bed. I want to say I've never seen him in this bed, but to be fair, I really haven't seen anything in a long time.
It smells like him, though.
"But I just talk about bad things." I point out to him.
I think I'll sleep here tonight. That way I'll actually get some sleep and I can stay up tomorrow night and wait for him.
"Not always. Sometimes, we talk about dogs. And cookies. And dogs named Cookie ."
" Always when we talk about me." I lay down, curling up a bit.
"Not when we talk about how cute you are."
"Yes, even then. Because I start crying because no one calls me cute ."
All of my life, people just tell me over and over again that I only exist to ruin lives. To make things worse for people.
That I'm weak. I can't do anything. I'll never succeed because I don't listen and I talk back. I need help with everything. I need to be controlled .
Then Damien calls me cute . And that's the thing that fucks me up somehow.
"Well. Don't cry, but you're so cute. But not as cute as me."
"I...I want to be the c-cutest. If I was, m-maybe things would be different..." I run my fingers over a blanket, which is unexpectedly soft, "Did you know that p-people finding babies cute is biological, s-so they don't k-kill them?"
"Oh. I was just segwaying into the fact that I'm now the proud owner of purple headphones with cat ears on them. But you are the cutest, and that fact is horrifying."
"Oh. I bet you look dumb." I rub my eyes again.
I left my glasses in the bathroom...
Oh well.
"I left my earbuds at home somehow. They're on my bedside table. But anyway, it was 3:00 a.m. and nothing was open except this one store and it was the only headphones they had."
"That's sad." I say.
Fuck, this blanket is soft.
"Meh. It's kinda funny."
"Is it?"
My heart has started to calm down... I just feel really tired.
"I think it is. Bro, you should see this hotel...." He rambles, as he eats something.
"What's it like?" I ask him.
"Well. It has super tall white ceilings, and expensive as fuck everything. And the building is huge. After my food, I'm going to explore it."
"Oh. Take me with you and tell me about it."
I don't want him to hang up.
As soon as he hangs up, I'll start dying again.
"I can."
"Please." I yawn, pulling that soft blanket to me.
It smells like him, too.
"Your bed smells like you..." I inform him.
"It would be weird if it smelled like someone else
Oh.
Ow.
That wouldn't be weird. It would be horrifying.
"You don't sleep, though." I remind him.
"I contemplate life in it. And sometimes nap. And I used to sleep. Really well."
Used to ...?
Not since I've known him.
"Okay. Do you ever wash your sheets?" I ask.
"Ummm. I don't know...? I'm sure Pierre has at some point."
That explains it.
I snuggle up under blankets.
"It's warm..." I add.
"I'm glad. I wish I was sleeping...maybe I'll try to take a nap."
Maybe I'll try to take a nap too...
I close my eyes. "Are you tired?"
"Very. I'm laying down now."
"Okay. Keep talking. Or singing." I sigh.
If I can just pretend he's here...
"Okay." He starts singing soothingly again.
If only I could actually feel him...
All of my other senses are tricked, though.
I fall asleep soon after.
...
Pierre woke me up a short while later.
My first instinct was to tell him to fuck off , but then I heard glorious words from him;
"I ordered a pizza."
I didn't even care that it was a manipulation tactic, or that I promised myself I wouldn't eat. I want pizza.
I fucking love pizza.
So, he successfully tricked me into coming downstairs...with his help, of course. Because Damien is an ass about the stairs.
I didn't want to talk to him. I just wanted to eat some pizza but he started telling me stories of things that happened when he was a kid. I got too interested.
Now, a while has passed since the pepperoni pizza was already gone. It's been maybe...half an hour?
We're just talking.
I kind of hate it because I don't trust him, but it's also slightly soothing. Just having someone talk to me.
And not particularly needing to respond or pay attention.
I don't know...
It's kind of nice. I could get used to it, I think.
I could get used to Pierre...
That's odd to think about.
I'm still afraid of him, but to be fair, I'm still afraid of Damien.
I think I can survive with Pierre until Damien gets back, though.
I just wish I knew how to survive alone.
End