Tears blurred my vision as Damien appeared at the mouth of the alley, moving like a storm. My chest heaved with a mixture of relief and lingering terror. He had actually come for me. Someone had come. Someone I trusted.
The sick, twisted man who had cornered me shoved me one last time against the wall before disappearing into the shadows. My body sagged against the bricks, trembling violently. My mind could hardly process what had just happened. My mouth hung open as sobs wracked my body.
"Don't you dare, you bastard!" Damien's voice cracked with rage. He surged forward instinctively, ready to chase, but stopped when he saw me. Shock softened into horror, then pain, mirrored in his amber eyes.
I winced as a sharp throb pulsed in my forehead. I pressed my palm against it and felt the warm stickiness of blood. My body still trembled uncontrollably.
"Jesus, Lia…" Damien's voice was low, strained, his jaw tight. He glared toward the darkness where the man had fled, fists clenched like he wanted to tear the world apart.
"No!" I sobbed, hugging myself tighter. "Don't leave me." My voice cracked. My legs refused to support me properly as I sank lower. The alley felt suffocating. I couldn't be alone. Not now. Not like this.
Damien knelt down, inches from me, but didn't rush. He didn't touch me—not yet. He just looked at me. The way he moved, slow, careful, like handling something fragile, made me realize just how delicate I felt in that moment.
"How…how did you find me?" I whispered through shivers and broken breaths.
"I saw you leaving the football field," he said, his tone soft but steady. "I was leaving the locker room when I noticed you walking. I thought you'd gone to your car, but then… you weren't there. I searched, and then I saw you here, walking toward this alley. I almost didn't make it in time."
My chest tightened. The thought of what might have happened if he hadn't arrived made me feel nauseous. My knees shook as another wave of sobs tore through me.
Damien stayed with me all the way home, driving silently, gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to throw it through the windshield. Every turn, every stoplight, felt heavy with unspoken tension. He guided me carefully inside, his hands hovering near me, unsure if I could bear the contact.
"I need to clean up," I whispered hoarsely. I needed to wash away every trace of that man's touch, every horrifying second of his hands on me. Seven showers wouldn't have been enough. I would burn these clothes if I could.
"I'm calling the cops," Damien said, anger sharp in his voice, though he didn't push. He understood my state better than I understood myself.
I barely nodded, slipping into the bathroom and locking the door. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the cold marble floor. The reflection in the mirror was almost unbearable. Blood smeared across my forehead, my hair stuck to it. Bruises were beginning to bloom across my arms and shoulders, and my lips trembled as I stared at the aftermath of fear etched into my face.
Gagging, I removed my tank top, my skirt, everything that had touched me. My stomach churned violently when I saw the evidence of his attempted violation. The man's words echoed in my head: "I've been watching you for a long time."
I vomited, retching into the sink over and over again. Each heave was accompanied by sobs that seemed endless. My body shivered uncontrollably, wracked with both fear and nausea. I thought I could handle anything, but this… this shattered me.
"Amelia!" Damien's voice rang out from the other side of the door, raw with panic. "What's happening? Are you okay?!"
"No… I'm not," I croaked, barely able to breathe. My throat burned, and my body felt like it had been broken apart.
"Open the door!" he shouted, frustration and fear blending into one. "I'm breaking it down if I have to!"
I froze. My body wanted to hide. My mind screamed at me to lock him out, to push him away. But when the door finally slammed open, there he was. Damien, amber eyes filled with a storm of anger and something softer—something almost like pain at seeing me like this.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around me. The warmth of his body against mine was shocking. Safe. Grounding.
"No! Get off me!" I shouted, thrashing, panicked memories of the alley clawing through my mind. I hit, punched, slapped—anything to make him stop.
"It's okay," Damien murmured, his voice calm and steady. "You're safe now. I've got you. You're not alone. You're okay."
I wanted to believe him, and slowly, the warmth from him began to seep into me. Unlike the predator, he didn't feel threatening. He felt… protective. Like I mattered.
I clung to him, chest heaving, tears spilling freely. My body, so tense moments ago, began to relax—just a little. His presence, his voice, his calm, steady heartbeat under my ear—somehow it began to push the terror back into shadows.
I realized something terrifyingly beautiful. I had never understood how much I needed someone. Needed protection. Needed someone who could stand between me and the darkness. And right here, right now, Damien was that person.
Even as sobs continued, I laid my head against his chest, letting myself be held for the first time in hours that felt like an eternity.
For the first time, I felt a fragile, trembling sense of safety
.
And I hated how good it felt.
.
.
.
tbc 💋🥰