Chapter 13: The Words of Silence

Élise

The silence that had settled in the room felt as heavy as the air on a moonless night. My heart pounded loudly, each beat resonating in my ears, amplified by the intensity of the moment. Damien's words, so full of mystery and pain, hung between us, suspended like an unspoken threat. He hadn't given clear answers, but his eyes... his eyes said so much.

I knew I wasn't ready to turn back. The book I had touched a few moments earlier seemed to call to me, like a silent summons. I knew I couldn't escape what was hidden inside, just as I couldn't ignore the strange connection between me and Damien. Part of me wanted to run, but another, stronger part, urged me to move forward, to understand.

I gently placed the book on the table, but Damien didn't take his gaze off mine. He seemed to be waiting for me, as if I was supposed to ask a question or offer a reaction he had already anticipated. He appeared to be struggling with something inside himself. His face remained impassive, but I could see his hands trembling slightly. A shiver of unease ran through me. I wasn't sure what I felt for him anymore. Was it empathy? Fear? Or something much more dangerous, an irresistible need to discover the unknown, to face the darkness at his side?

"You don't need to know everything, Élise," Damien said in a hoarse voice, his words almost breaking in the silence of the room. "You're not prepared for what comes next. And you… you're too fragile to understand."

His words, though harsh, weren't without tenderness. There was a sort of vulnerability in his voice, a truth he seemed to want to hide from me. I looked at him, my gaze determined, my heart beating faster.

"I'm ready to understand everything, Damien," I replied, my voice firm but slightly trembling. "Because I already see the shadow you carry, and it's too late to run from it. If you want me to leave, just say it. But don't leave me in ignorance."

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching for something in me, as if trying to probe my soul, to discover a truth I didn't even know myself. Then, with a resigned sigh, he slowly turned towards a wall in the room, where a large, dark painting covered almost the entire surface.

"Do you see this painting?" he asked, pointing to the imposing piece of art. "It represents part of my past, a chapter I never wanted to reopen. But now… I suppose it's time for you to see it too."

I slowly approached the painting, a strange chill running down my spine. The scene on the canvas was disturbing: a solitary figure stood in a dark landscape, overwhelmed by threatening shadows. The atmosphere of the work felt heavy, saturated with buried secrets. The air in the room grew colder, as if the art exerted a tangible influence on the space around us.

"You're right," Damien murmured, his eyes fixed on the canvas. "This painting speaks of my life before all of this, before the gallery, before you knew me. A life marked by mistakes and choices I will always regret. But there is something even darker than this painting, Élise. Something I can't erase, even if I try."

I slowly turned my head to look at him, my eyes filled with compassion but also curiosity. "What do you mean, Damien?" I asked, my heart pounding with new unease.

He approached slowly, his face now more closed off, colder. "I don't want you to get swept up in all of this," he said in a quieter voice. "The past cannot be fixed, no matter how hard you try. But you, you are different. You don't know what you're getting into."

"I know you've suffered," I replied, my voice soft but firm. "But that shouldn't be a reason for you to lose yourself. To hide."

Damien stopped suddenly, a brief flicker of disdain crossing his eyes. "You don't understand, Élise. What you see, this façade, it's all I have left. Everything I am after losing what mattered most. I'm the one who chose solitude, isolation, because it's all I deserve."

A heavy silence stretched between us, then I took a step forward, breaking the distance that separated us. "Maybe what you deserve isn't solitude, Damien. Maybe you deserve to love again."

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes filled with an infinite sadness, then slowly, he turned away.

"You say that because you don't know everything," he whispered. "You haven't yet seen the extent of the darkness that haunts me. You want to help me, but you don't even realize what you're asking."

I moved closer, my heart racing. "I don't want to help you, Damien. I just want to understand you. And I want you to stop running."

He slowly shook his head, as if everything I was saying made no sense in the world he had built for himself. But there was something in his eyes, a spark of hesitation, as if deep down, he knew this confrontation was inevitable.

"You want to understand? Then you'll have to know everything," he said, his words now heavy, like a promise or a warning. "And when you know, you won't be able to turn back."

He then turned towards the bookshelf and took an older book than the others. The pages seemed almost ready to disintegrate under his fingers. "This is the story that shaped me, Élise. And maybe it will explain to you why there is no going back."

I moved closer, observing the book in his hands, aware that this moment marked a turning point. From this moment on, nothing would be the same. It was too late to pull back. I was already too involved in Damien's story, and there was no way to return to the surface.