Opening the sliding back door, the sound of something crashing to the ground makes me jump and contemplate going back outside. It's definitely safer out there.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I take a deep breath and quietly walk in. Loud yells reach my ears and I follow them to Damon's tense form. He faces the wall away from me, his muscles bunched up in his back, his hands tugging at the strands of his hair. His shoulders move up and down rapidly from his harsh breathing.
Slowly walking towards him, I call his name. The last thing I want to do is startle him and have him take his anger out on me. I know he would never intentionally hurt me, but anyone who is upset tends to be out of character.
Calling his name a second time, he doesn't respond. It's as if he doesn't even hear me.
I say his name for the third time when I'm two steps away from him. He still doesn't move, doesn't react. Even with the knowledge that my next move isn't a good idea, I slowly reach my arm out and touch his shoulder.
Memories of when I tried to wake him up flood my mind as he pins me to the wall, his forearm against my throat. The pressure isn't intense, but thinking of how quickly the situation changed makes my mind hazy.
Ignoring the thump in my throat, I look up at his face. It's stone-cold, guarded and unlike anything I have ever seen before.
I thought getting his attention by putting myself in this situation would help and bring him back to reality like last time, but I don't think that is the case this time. I don't even recognize him.
Fear brings tears to my eyes, and I weakly say his name one more time.
Please. Please don't let this be happening. This cannot be real. He would never hurt me.
With his arm still at my throat, I scream for Brandon.
Even with my desperate plea, Damon still doesn't snap back. Where is he? Why is he acting this way? I know he's upset, but it's like an out-of-body experience.
The slamming shut of the backdoor catches my attention.
"Rose! Rose, where are you?"
"Living room." Even with only two words, the fear seeps into my voice.
His footsteps thud into the room and then stop. The air turns thick, thicker than before.
"Rose?"
"I- I don't know what to do. What do I do? I was just trying to calm him down, but it's like he's not even here. Brandon, please."
He mutters words too low for me to hear.
"I need you to listen to me very carefully. I'm going to do the same thing you did and when he lets you go, I need you to run into the bedroom and grab one of his t-shirts. It doesn't matter which one, but make it one of the biggest ones you can find."
"Brandon-"
"Rose, do you trust me?"
I don't hesitate. "Yes."
"Then I need you to do exactly what I said, okay?"
"But, what if he hurts you? I didn't mean for this to happen, I was just trying to help, I swear."
"I know. Now, I need you to help by getting that shirt."
"Okay. I'm ready."
Everything happens in a flash, Brandon touches Damon's shoulder. Damon tosses me to the ground and Brandon takes my place.
Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I run into his bedroom and rifle through his bag. Clothes land on the bed and the floor until I find one of his t-shirts that he wears when other people are around in the morning.
Clutching it in my grasp, I hurry back into the living room, my heart in my throat.
"I have it. Tell me what to do."
Moving his head to move around the pressure in his throat, he speaks quickly but clearly. "Take two ends of the shirt and, without touching him, wrap it around his head. Make sure it covers his eyes."
I hesitate moving closer to Damon. What if I accidentally touch him and he grabs me again? Looking over to Brandon one more time, I realize that I would rather be in that position than Brandon. He helped me, now I have to help him. I don't want to see him hurt.
Walking over, I try to keep my steps as light as possible so Damon doesn't know I'm behind him. Taking the shirt in my two hands, I stretch out the two ends and in one maneuver, cover his eyes and tie it at the back of his head.
Damon loses his grip around Brandon and falls to the floor, cries leaving his lips.
"You can comfort him now. I understand if you are too scared, I can do it if you want to."
Just like last time, I ignore the flight hormones running through my body and tell Brandon that I can do it. He doesn't leave the house, just the room, and goes into the kitchen.
Crouching down, I take his shaking body into my arms. My hands tremble as they go to remove the piece of clothing that settled him down and brought him back to me.
Will he go back to the way he was before if I remove it? Seeing him now, I have a hard time believing that that will happen again.
Reaching around his head, my trembling hands undo the only thing holding his shirt to his head. It falls limply into his lap.
My breath gets stuck in my throat when I look at his state. His cheeks are tear-stained, his eyes red and puffy, nose running, and gasping for breath between sobs. He- He's a mess. A pang of guilt hits me when I realize that I may have contributed to this. Maybe I should have left Brandon to help his brother and stayed outside with his parents.
When another sob racks through his body, I ignore everything my mind is screaming about me and all the feelings warring inside of me and focus on him.
Pulling him closer into my body, I run my hand through his hair, massaging his scalp and temple. I'm sure they are throbbing from how hard he was pulling earlier. My other hand gently scratches and rubs his back in an attempt to calm his breathing.
"Damon?" My voice is as soft as a whisper. "It's okay. You're okay. Everything will be fine. If you want to stay here, no one will be mad. It was just a suggestion. You're okay."
Unsure of what to say next, I whisper sweet nothings in his ear.
The backdoor opens and two voices enter the house. Damon stills then lifts me into his arms. I don't fight or struggle.
Entering his bedroom, he drops me on his bed and lays his head on my chest. My hand continues going through his hair.
"Pl- please don't leave. I- I'm sorry," he hiccups through his sentence, his voice full of tears, anguish, and regret.
"Shh. Shh. I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay." Lifting his chin up to look at me, I repeat, "I'm okay."
Despite the events and being scared around him again, he didn't hurt me. He kept me pinned to the wall, but he wasn't putting enough pressure against my neck to hurt me. I think it was more to scare me from touching him. In other situations, it may have worked, but I know him well enough to know that he would hate himself if he ever did anything to me that left a mark or made me look at him differently.
A few more minutes pass before his breathing starts to slow and his tears start to dry on his cheeks. He plasters me against his body, his arms trapping me there. Is he afraid I'm going to leave?
My body relaxes when his breathing returns to normal. He stops moving and just lays there. Peeking down at him, his eyes are closed.
Is he sleeping?
The moment the thought enters my mind, Damon moves us so I'm laying on his chest.
I guess not.
"Are you okay?" I ask, breaking the silence.
"Are you?"
I ignore the deflected question, tightening my arms around him. I answer with a simple "yes."
"I'm sorry for hurting you again. You know I don't mean to, right?"
"I know."
I rub his chest as he continues. "I know it's not an excuse, and I don't want to make up any excuses, but that wasn't me. I wouldn't ever lay a hand on you. The first time I did it, that wasn't me either. The truth is, after everything happened with the company, I was happy that I was able to save the family business. I went on with my daily life. One night I went to a bar downtown with my friends, and girlfriend at the time. I received a phone call and went outside to answer it. Thinking about it, the phone call was a set-up, a way to get me alone outside.
"I was hanging up the call, a little tipsy when a black escalade, similar to the one that followed us a couple of months ago, pulled up in front of me. Two men jumped out and shoved me into the car. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't have time to react. The CEO of the company was sitting beside me. He put something over my head so I couldn't see where they were taking me.
"For months I lived in the dark. I didn't know what was going on, who was in the room with me if there was someone in the room. The only time I could see anything was when I ate. I started tracking the time by when they fed me. Each night, right after I would fall asleep, someone would come in and they would beat me, whip me, torture me. I thought I was going to die.
"One day, I don't know how, but I managed to escape. I was trying to loosen the ropes around my hands since I first gained consciousness after we arrived wherever they took me. They finally frayed enough where I broke out of my bands and since I knew the guard's shifts, they would all pay me a visit when it was their turn to watch, I left when they were switching and no one was at my door. I didn't know how to get out, but it wasn't too difficult to figure it out. The more voices I heard, the closer I was to freedom. I waited until I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Using whatever strengths I had left, I fought the guard and took his clothes, leaving him in my cell to spare me more time.
"I walked up the stairs like I was meant to be up there, but the whole time I was shaking. No-one stopped me and I left the premises. I kept to the woods so they wouldn't be able to easily spot when they found out I escaped. To my luck, there was a car driving down the road. They said they would give me a ride and I was back home. I was gone for a month. It doesn't seem like a long time, but when you're in hell, one month feels like a hundred lifetimes.
"I know that this doesn't excuse me putting my hands on you, but I swear it's not me. I would never hurt you."
Opening my mouth, I attempt to respond to everything he just told me. I can't believe he went through that. He is so strong and brave. I don't know how he manages to wake up every morning and live his life.
"I don't want you to say anything. I just wanted to tell you. I know you were scared of me, but I don't want you to be. I will never intentionally hurt you, I promise."
Choosing to stay silent as he wants, I snuggle into his chest and we both slowly drift to sleep, his hand playing with my hair, my hands drawing little patterns on his chest.
The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is his snoring. I smile knowing that he is going to be okay. That we are going to be okay, as long as we stick together and have each other's backs.