Revelations [Part 2]

The normally lovely smell of the house is amplified by a thousand, a smell sweet enough to rouse me from sleep. It's so damn nice that it has me on my feet almost immediately. Slowly, I make my way around the couch and into the kitchen where the smell is strongest. I can't help but smile at what I find in the kitchen. I find what looks to be a freshly showered Damon, hair still dripping. He's without a shirt and only wearing shorts which seem to cling to every muscle in his legs. He's pulling what looks like chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. My favourite. Well, it was when I actually used to eat.

He turns to face me as he places the cookies on the cooling rack on the counter. How he even heard me is beyond me. I weigh minimal, my feet are silent on really any type of flooring.

"Morning, sleepyhead." My stomach jumps into my throat. Morning?!

Spinning around to the window I find that, sure enough, the sun is beginning to rise.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I have to go."

"What? No, no. Hold up!"

He grabs me, spinning me around, his hands letting go of me and flying at my face. A squeal comes out of me before I can stop it, my eyes slamming shut and my body jumping away from him. Immediately, his hands vanish and my legs are giving out. I use the wall to slide down to the floor. When I open my eyes again I find him staring at me in pure shock. Every fiber in my body wants to run but I don't dare move. I thought he was safe. I don't want him to be like them, I want to be safe with him of all people. It took me until recently to realize it but I don't want to die. I just want the pain to stop. I don't want to leave Lily an orphan or kill the baby inside me now. I want to be safe.

Damon looks confused, he looks outright lost. I don't understand why after what he just did. He takes the rack of cookies and sits down where he is, crossing his legs and setting the rack directly between us.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he says, his voice unnaturally quite. A bead of water drips from his hair, hitting his chest and rolling down it. Several beads fall as he reaches out to me, a cookie in hand.

"They're your favourite, right? I changed the recipe a little. They're awesome warm, the chocolate is nice and gooey." I contemplate it for a minute, wondering if he would really try to hurt me with food. Seeing my hesitation, he takes a bite out of the cookie before handing me a new one. Reaching forward, I take it quickly. I take a bite of the cookie and it tastes absolutely amazing. He was right about it being gooey. I don't remember them being this good. Tingles stretch the whole way up my jawline, my taste buds not used to having such sweet, yummy things.

"Does it taste good?" He asks the question quietly as if he's . . . as if he's insecure about it.

"Yes," I assure him, slowly munching down on it. I almost smile. Munch down. I remember clear as a bell the night that I made fun of the way Damon was chewing his hard candy and he, like the smartass he was, informed me that you actually can't munch down, only up.

"I didn't get to ask, what's with the hair change?" I shrug, not knowing what exactly to say, or how I could possibly answer that question. He hands me another cookie seeing as I've weirdly already finished my first. I gladly take the second one. It tastes as amazing as the first and having something in my stomach eases it's aching. I love food, especially chocolate chip cookies, so it still quite often upsets me that I can't eat it much anymore.

"You know you can stay here, right?" My brows furrow together as I continue chewing, the warm chocolate making my mouth gooey and sticky.

"I don't understand."

A look of determination crosses his face, he isn't nervous to say, "Don't go back to your place, don't go back to work. Consider staying here, please. Whether we're strangers, partners, or friends. I don't care. Just stay here. I can protect you here, from anyone."

I shake my head at him, the urge to run right out the front door swiftly returning, "I'm fine."

His eyes somehow harden and soften simultaneously, "And under the make-up?"

My stomach jumps back to my throat, "What?"

"Under all the make-up, all the concealer and the clothes, is your skin pale or purple?"

I shake my head again, "You don't know what you're talking about." Sighing, he grabs a wet cloth from the sink and sits back down. Seated in front of me, he proceeds to rub the cloth over his left cheek and down his neck. He continues rubbing away down his chest, all the way to his belly button. With the concealer rubbed away a big, ugly, burn is revealed. It's completely healed over, into a more red-ish, purple color. Almost like what you'd expect a red wine stain to look like. Something deep in my gut rumbles, my magic suddenly thrumming inside my veins, eager to be released. Everything goes quiet, all except for a crackling, the thrumming. I can actually feel it rushing through my blood.

My fingertips begin to warm so I hurriedly hide them before he can see them taking on a violet tinge.

"What happened?"

"My dad," he sighs, "And a bucket of acid."

"Why?"

In an attempt to remain calm and keep my magic at bay, I basically stuff the rest of the cookie in my mouth and grab another. I focus on the taste of the chocolate as I listen to him speak. He takes another for himself, picking at it and clearly not enjoying the turn in the conversation.

"It wasn't aimed at me. He loved me, was never violent or even mean, you know that." He shrugs, no longer looking at me. "It was meant for my mom. He didn't like that she was pregnant again, believed that she was having an affair and the kid couldn't possibly be his."

He drops the cookie and grabs another, picking all the choc chips out of that one too. Meanwhile, I've finished my fourth cookie and am reaching for another, scooting closer to him. He's hurting. I don't like how it makes my insides feel.

Picking up a cookie with my free hand, I hold it out to him. Scotting closer to me, he smiles and takes it. Now that there is silence and no more distractions, I begin feeling sick. So I put down the cookie, only now realizing I've eaten too much. My stomach rolls over and over and not long later I'm hurtling for the bathroom. I grip the toilet seat hard enough for my knuckles to hurt as I heave into the bowl. Vaguely, I feel Damon's hands holding back my hair, his warm hand rubbing my aching back. He's like a hot water bottle, but more.

More and more comes out of me until finally, as it always does, blood comes up. By the time I've finished, and nothing more will come out of me, I slump back against the bath. I don't have to be shaking to know that I won't be able to stand anytime soon. Damon takes my face in his hands, his own face concerned, scared.

"Have you done that before? The blood?" When I nod, he curses, asking more questions, "Can you keep anything down? Food? Water?" I shake my head, the room swinging as it pounds.

"Is there anything else I should know?" I place my hands on my stomach, not enough energy to form words, barely enough to keep my hands where they rest.

"What?"

He presses his hand against the middle of my stomach, his face going slack and his eyes glazing over as if he's not really here. I have no idea what he does or how but he figures it out. He curses loudly, and I couldn't struggle if I tried as he picks me up, puts me in his car, and drives.

*_*_*_*

"Thank you," I say, smiling at the nice nurse. The woman smiles, touching my shoulder and leaving. The second she's out of the room, Damon speaks.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now? Who's doing this? Or do I have to guess the rest too?"

I would have thought his words were mean had I not been watching him smile just a little. He's trying to lighten the mood. But he's being serious too. I stare at him, without the energy to lift my head from the angled bed. I don't need to lift my head to know I look like I'm on death's door. So thin and pale, and where I'm not pale, I'm purple, blue, yellow, or blistered bright red.

"My step-dad, and Jake."

Just saying that feels like such a huge weight off my chest, like I can physically breathe easier now.

Damon's face is one of shock. I don't think it ever occurred to him just how much Jake changed after mom died. And no one would ever suspect Maxwell of doing such heinous things.

I know what question is coming next before he even asks it. "What about your mom?"

No tears spring forth, surprisingly. I'm completely in control of myself for once.

"Maxwell killed her." His face drops further and he leans forward in his seat, reaching for my hand.

"What does," he pauses, swallowing hard, likely contemplating whether he wants to know the answer to his next question or not. "What do they do to you?"

I don't want to tell him now. I'm not sure I'll ever want to tell him. So I only give him the first thing that comes to mind, "The baby is my step-father's."

We sit in silence for a little while as he mulls over what I just said. He opens his mouth time after time, going to say something, and then doesn't. I can almost see his thoughts on his face, see the gears turning in his head. I'm not sure I want to know what he's thinking, or what he'll say next. However, I force myself to stay silent and let him process what I said and every bit of information that comes with it.

Eventually, "He forced you?"

"Him and Jake, yes."

He lets go of me, leaning back in his chair, away from me. His hand rubs the faint stubble on his face and I watch him take a few deep breaths, his lips moving as if he's counting.

Trusting him almost completely, I have no qualms telling him, "Jake fathered my daughter. She's four."

His brows shoot up faster than I've ever seen and his mouth opens and closes like he's a fish out of water.

"For real? I've never even heard of her or seen her or anything. You really have . . . That's why you're working for Don, isn't it?" I nod to his questions, not able to help the little smile that appears on my face.

His face, however, suddenly drops, "Wait, where is she? She's not with them is she?!"

He starts up out of his chair and I find myself wishing I could sit forward and grab him, "I'd never leave her there. She's been with a family friend for a few weeks."

His face relaxes, except for a frown, "But that's your kid. How can you be away from her for so long? That's so hard to do." He sounds like he knows the feeling as well as I do, but I don't question him. I just agree. It is definitely hard, one of the hardest things I've ever done.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat and taking my hand again, "Tell your friend to bring her here. I'm sure she'd love to see you again, and you her."

Smiling, I scoot over in the bed, feeling close to nothing with whatever medication is in the IV in my arm. My body feels heavy more than anything.

"Will you lay with me? You're very warm."

A smile returns to his face and he gets out of his chair, cracking his back and neck as he does. The cracking echoes through the room, making us both laugh. He then very carefully settles onto the bed with me. Giving him some blanket, I turn onto my side to face him. He lies on his back but doesn't take his eyes off me. Gently slipping his arm around me, he pulls me into his side.

"You're staying with me from now on, you and your kid. Don't try and argue with me about it."

"Lily."

He smiles, "Well. You and Lily are going to be staying with me from now on. That okay with you?"

I snuggle further into his warmth and that seems to be answer enough for him. As I do, a knock sounds at the door. Damon lets go of me, sitting up and pulling the hood of his jumper over his face. To try and mask the burn scar would be my guess. He looks incredibly different without it concealed. Not a bad difference, but a difference nonetheless. Into the room walks a young and very pretty doctor. She looks like she feels a bit awkward when she sees us, however quickly looks past it.

"Miss Humphreys?"

Sitting up as properly as I can, I give her my full attention. She glances warily between Damon and me, unsure of whether she should speak with him here. But he deserves to know everything and more.

"It's okay," I tell her, glancing at Damon, who's face is concealed between wearing the hood so low and staring at his lap. I understand. That feeling. The shame, the anger, the black cloud of sadness that won't ever leave. I understand wanting to hide and become invisible, to pretend it's not there and that everything is fine.

The doctors shoulders ease up at my comment, "Okay, I'm Dr. Matthews. If it's alright with you, I'd like to perform a proper examination of your genitals, as well as your thighs. Correct me if I'm wrong but these seem to be the areas that need the most attention?"

Beside me, Damon's breath hitches ever so quietly, clearly not having expected that information. So I say to the doctor, "There's not much to see. I'm broken. I can't be fixed very easily."

She stares at me almost sympathetically, I hate it. It feels horrible. I already know I'm a victim, I don't need to be reminded of it.

"We don't know that for certain, Miss Humphreys. We don't see injuries like this very often so there isn't a default solution. I'd like us to come up with one to help you."

I shake my head, "I'm not interested."

Damon looks up at me, revealing his face to the doctor. His eyes are ringed with silver and his gaze is intense enough that I have to look away from him. I refuse to get my hopes up that they can fix the mess down there. I'm not going to hope for it. It's not going to happen. Even if I thought they could fix me, I don't have the funds for it. It's not high on my list of priorities.

"What about the burns? I'd really like to help with that, I could-"

I shake my head, interrupting her, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just . . I know they're just about healed, there isn't much I can do to prevent scarring now. There's no point messing with them, you know that."

Her heart begins hammering faster as her chest expands with a breath, "Alright. Well, I'd like to keep you in here on antibiotics and pain relief, just for observation for a few days. If that's alright?"

Damon looks directly at Dr. Matthews, "That's perfectly fine. Thank you for your help."

Taking that as her dismissal, she smiles awkwardly and leaves the room. From the corner of my eye I watch Damon flick off his hood and look back at me. A second later his fingers are grasping my chin, turning my head to look at him properly.

"What did they do to you?"

Tears slip down my face at the thought of it, at the thought of how painful it was, how much I didn't deserve it. Not that. No one deserves that. But I wipe them away just as quick. I'm so sick of crying.

"You don't want to know that," I tell him, my voice trembling wildly as I fight with myself to not start sobbing.

His hands cup my face, his eyes staring almost through to my soul, "Trust me. I really do."

I try to take a deep breath and the motion just brings a sob to the surface. I remember it vividly. I was barely conscious when it happened but it was so painful, so so painful.

"Do you remember the last time I was here? With you? How Maxwell and Jake made you leave, and I could . . I could barely talk or move and I couldn't even think." His eyes fade into that dark basil green and I know he's angry, but not with me.

"He made Jake stand guard outside and he . . ." Sobs wrack my body enough that speaking is an effort.

"He used his pocket knife, the one me and mom gave him, and he mutilated me. He butchered me. Not even Joshua, not even Joshua of all people, want to touch me."

He sits in silence and I can't help but continue talking. I can't help but keep crying, letting everything out.

"I'm not gonna die anymore and now I'll never be able to experience anything that feels good, having this baby will be a nightmare, if I can even deliver anymore. Even you, you would get one look at it and you'll never touch me again. He made me disgusting, he ma-" Damon's grasp on my cheeks tightens, his thumbs now resting over my lips to get me to stop. He stares me dead in the eyes as I continue crying.

He tells me, "I would never think of you as disgusting. I will fix this, all of it. I am here. And he is going to rot in hell for this, and every other thing that he and Jake have done. They will pay, you hear me? I'll make sure they pay for everything."

He leans forward, wrapping me in his arms and pulling me into him. He holds onto me as I cry, stroking my face, playing with my hair, and whispering the sweetest little things.