The book was old, its edges worn by time, and it emitted the scent of yellowed paper, like a secret forgotten for centuries. Damien placed it on the table carefully, his fingers brushing the cover, as if he feared lifting the veil of oblivion surrounding it. I stood there, before him, my heart pounding harder with each passing second. At that exact moment, I knew I was crossing a threshold into a world I could never have imagined.
"Do you want to know the truth?" Damien asked, his voice hoarse, almost desperate. "Then listen. And be ready to understand what you're about to discover."
He opened the book, his hands trembling slightly, but the cold air in the room seemed to envelop him, like an invisible presence ready to receive his confessions. The first pages were covered with handwritten notes, almost illegible scribbles, but in the margins, I could read a clear message: memories drowned in dark waters, moments frozen in pain and vengeance.
"I never wanted anyone to know," he said, lifting his eyes to mine. "This book, it's my soul. And it's not pretty to look at."
I sat down cautiously, my hands gripping my knees, waiting for him to speak. I had no idea what I was about to learn, but a part of me, that curious and insatiable part, knew it was the only way to go further. I had to understand. For him. For me.
"It all started a long time ago," Damien began, his voice dropping lower, more intimate, as if speaking to himself. "Long before I became what you see today. I was another man, a normal man… a man who was loved."
He closed his eyes for a moment, lost in his memories, before slowly turning the pages of the book as if performing a ceremonial ritual.
"My family… they were everything to me. But love can be a weapon, Élise. And sometimes, the wounds we inflict on those we love are deeper than the ones we could imagine."
A shiver ran through me. I still didn't understand, but the tension in the room was becoming more and more palpable. Every word he spoke seemed heavy with pain, regret. I didn't dare interrupt him, not wanting to break this fragile moment, but the questions were piling up in my mind.
"I lost my sister," he whispered, almost as a breath. "She… she was my light. But one day, she disappeared. Taken by people I could never stop. And this book, it's my quest. My quest for vengeance for her death."
I held my breath. Silence fell again, heavy with meaning. I knew that behind every word from Damien, there were years of suffering, invisible struggles. But I still didn't know how I could help him. I didn't know what he expected from me.
"I became what I hated," he continued, his gaze empty of all emotion. "A man obsessed with revenge. A man willing to sacrifice everything to get what he wanted. I let that quest destroy me, Élise. I let it invade every thought, every action."
He placed the book on the table, his eyes fixed on the open pages as though they held the key to his existence. "You see, what you see here is not just a book. It's a manifesto of everything I've lost. And I can't go back."
The words were heavy, laden with the pain of a man who had lost not only a sister but also his soul. A deep sadness washed over me. I wanted to tell him that he could still change, that he could still make it out. But a part of him seemed convinced that redemption was an illusion.
"And me, Élise," he suddenly said, lifting his eyes to mine, "I brought you into this world. You entered my life without knowing how much it was already contaminated. I can't offer you what you expect, not in this state. And yet, you refuse to leave."
A chill ran through me at his words. "I won't leave," I replied with a strength I didn't know I had. "I won't leave until I understand. But I'm not here to save you, Damien. I'm here because I see in you something more than vengeance. I see the possibility of another path."
Damien looked at me for a long time before suddenly standing up, his face marked by visible torment. "You think you can change what's irreversible? That you can fix a broken man, Élise? You're too young to understand that."
"I'm not young," I replied, my voice firmer. "And I know you carry deep wounds. But I also believe wounds can heal, even the oldest ones."
A flicker of surprise crossed Damien's gaze. He stepped slowly toward me, his eyes still full of mistrust, but also a strange fascination.
"Do you really want to help me?" he asked, almost sarcastic. "Do you really think you can heal a man who has nothing to offer but ghosts and darkness?"
I stood up as well, crossing the space between us. I placed a gentle hand on his arm, a simple gesture, but one full of meaning.
"Yes, Damien. Because I see more than ghosts. I see a man who still has the capacity to love, even if he doesn't believe it."
The silence that followed my words was heavy, but also filled with a new understanding, an opening that perhaps would lead us somewhere. Damien stared at me intensely, as if he had just discovered a side of himself he had long forgotten. Then, in a moment of vulnerability, he leaned gently toward me, his lips brushing mine in a fleeting kiss.
It was both a tender gesture and one full of pain, a silent promise, but also a mute admission that, despite everything he had been through, he wasn't completely lost. The kiss broke as quickly as it had come, but it left a warmth that still burned in the air.
He slowly pulled back, his gaze still intense, but now there was a different spark in his eyes. "Maybe you're right," he murmured, his voice softer. "But it'll take more than words to break the hold of this past."
I knew that this was just the beginning. Damien's darkness wasn't going to dissipate so easily. But at that precise moment, I felt that I had opened a door he couldn't close.