CHAPTER 46

Damien's POV

"Lisa, what the hell is this?" She jerks back in panic as a result of my repeated yells at her.

She wrecked my appetite for food after I went all day without eating anything.

She says, her eyes closed, "I'm so...so.. sorry."

She is doing this because she is aware of how much I detest clumsiness. I don't mind that water is all over me, but in addition to my lack of appetite, my meal has been spoiled.

I haven't been able to eat much for over two days, and I'm wondering when my appetite will return.

I spin back in rage and go to the closet. I should get clean. I wasn't going to take a shower; I was too weary and hungry for that. I wanted to eat and then turn in for the night, but I won't be able to until I take a shower.

I head to the restroom after grabbing the towel. I take a big breath and let it out when the door is closed inside because I feel bad for yelling at her.

Perhaps instead of asking Lisa to bring me food downstairs, I ought to have rung the bell in the room to summon the maids. Or I might have just gone downstairs to eat on my own. Perhaps none of this would have occurred.

I take another deep breath before unbuttoning and removing my sleep top. Before shutting off the shower, I remove my shorts as well.

I close my eyes and breathe in heavy sighs of relief as the hot water pours down on me, starting with my head and then moving to every area of my body.

My recent days have been challenging. It felt more like returning to my cave. the guilt shell.

I didn't see the need to be cheerful or smile. Before Lisa entered the scene, Gabriel was always there to make me feel better whenever he sensed how I was feeling.

He often offers to come over to my place because I don't go to clubs anymore, and we talk into the night, but now that we are both married, we have stopped doing all of that, and I miss him.

I long for the somber Gabriel. not the fun-loving one.

He has the perfect phrase to lift my spirits. He has the perfect idea of how to cheer me up.

While I sometimes like my misery, there are other moments when I wish I could put a stop to it. I wish I could stop feeling so guilty.

I use my hands to wash my face without using soap before going on to massage my other body parts.

I finish up, turn off the shower, and that is when it strikes me.

I've been sobbing.

While the tears have always been there in the shower water, they are now constant because the water is no longer running. They are heated and loaded with traumatic tales and memories that I wish I could forget and atone for.

I wish I could turn the clock hands back in time. I'd want things to be different. I wish I could be more truthful and understanding. The lady in my room right now may still be Helena and not Lisa r if this hadn't occurred.

Perhaps we would have had more children, as we had always desired. Perhaps I wouldn't despise kids the way I do.

Just perhaps. Possibly, the outcome might have been different.

I knelt down as a sharp pain inflicted throughout my whole body caused me to yell out in anguish and let more tears roll down my cheeks.

I do not want this.

I want to stop feeling guilty. I want to recover. I'm sick and tired of feeling bad. I'm worn out from it all, and all I want is to be able to forgive myself for what I've done and find inner peace.

I get up and turn toward the mirror in rage. Only the monster who killed his fiancée and their unborn kid is looking back at me.

My breathing becomes labored, and the tears don't stop. My hand is up, and I slam it against the mirror, shattering it into bits that puncture my flesh.

I want everything spoken.

I don't give a damn about being exposed as I repeatedly strike the wall with both fists as my rage reaches its peak intensity while driving my damaged fist into it.

The wall is painted in bloody crimson, giving me a flashback to what transpired.

Her eyes were open, but blood was pouring from her skull. the manner she made an attempt to speak to me. How she fought to keep me close before passing away and leaving me shattered.

I admired her. I didn't want her to pass away. We had a lot of plans. We wanted to have as many children as we could.

We gave it our all to get things to function. She was cordial. I was obstinate. She was sympathetic, but I wasn't. I wasn't genuine, but she was. She was lovely, but I was evil until the very end.

I wail and press my face against the scarred wall, sobbing bitterly like a little kid robbed of his loveliness.

For two years, I haven't shed a tear. It's been two years since I last experienced such misery. Thought I was stronger than I really am.

I have only been acting as if I am in complete control. I've just been acting as if I can control my feelings.

I scream once again, pressing myself even closer to the wall, hoping that it will suddenly open and swallow me whole so that this may stop.

When the door creaks, I suddenly realize that I'm not alone in this room. I'm not alone. Since Lisa is present, she must have heard everything.

I give up and calm down while exhaling hard and wiping the back of my palm over my eyes as I cry.

To wash everything, I turn to the shower and turn it back on.

a blood.

the sobs.

The pain.

the agony.

the hurt.

I massage the other hand that is hurt with the healthy hand. Because of the piercings, it aches a lot, but I had to wash the blood away so Lisa wouldn't notice.

To remove any traces of my brief fit of rage in the restroom, I also splash water on the wall.

I finish taking a shower, turn it off once again, and wrap a towel around myself before leaving.

Damien, are you all right? I went out and met Lisa. She must have been wondering why I was shouting in the restroom as she paced back and forth.

She rushes to me, so I don't say anything and continue walking to the closet to look for another set of pajamas.

You're bleeding, right? She yells and clutches my hand as her eyes are on the verge of bulging out of their sockets.

This is when I realized that rinsing the blood off was ineffective. My hand has been dripping with blood ever since I exited the restroom.

I yank my hand away from her grip. I'm all right.

She screams again. She takes my head and looks at it, "There is blood on your forehead." She said, "What have you done to yourself?"

Despite my attempts to remove her hands, she still appears to have a firm grip on me. She is inspecting it like a mother would a child's wounds.

I finally shake her off and scream, "I'm fine, Lisa," in a loud voice.

"Goodness me!" She stumbles back, and as I turn to look at her, I see that she is crying. My brows crease.

I hurriedly put on a short and removed my towel to clean the blood she said was on my forehead, assuming that the sight of the blood was what was making her cry.

Have I also hurt my forehead? Perhaps that happened while I was hitting my head on the wall.

Although there was blood, other than in my hands, I didn't feel any discomfort there.

Before I can give a word of assurance to Lisa, she jumps to the door and sprints out.

I sigh loudly.

Maybe she can't stand the sight of blood.

I wasn't in my right sense by doing all of that shit thinking it will take the pain away. It will only make me feel worse. This was the same thing that happened when she died.

I didn't feel better.

Now, I don't feel any better.

I'm just happy I hurt myself because it makes me feel better. as retribution for my errors.

When I cleaned my forehead with the towel once again, it became smeared with blood.

I tell myself that I need to contact the doctor.

To learn what I can do to halt the bleeding, I will probably have a video chat with the doctor. It's not good.

My hand ached terribly. I take a fresh sheet and pull it over my head before carefully making my way to the bed and grabbing my phone.

I'm exhaustedly sitting on the bed when a sudden wave of dizziness hits me. I started to have a little headache.

Later, it starts to bang.

I sigh and let go of my phone while still holding my head between the two hands.

How did I damage myself? At the same moment, the door opens up once again, and I query within.

When I glance up, Lisa is racing back in with a package of first aid but no shoes. I have severe dizziness once again and land on my back.

"Damien!" She rushes to the bedside next to me as I hear her call. She makes me shiver. "Damien!"

I hesitate to respond because I fear that death is coming to take me away, just as it did with Helena.

I should have earned this, right?

I have something I want to say to her. I wanted to warn her not to weep, but as soon as her tears fell on my face, my lips parted in amazement and my eyes naturally started to slowly shut.

"Damien, please continue! I apologize. Lisa sobs while having tears fall from her eyes.

The last sound I hear before succumbing to the darkness that permeates every cell in my body and spirit is this.