☀LIBIA (FIND MY CONFIDENCE)☀
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Chapter Eleven.
He found himself lifting his hand and stro-king her dark hair, running his f!ngersthrou-gh the slightly tangled mess. His eyes followed the movement of his hand, as if it were not his doing. Finally, he knew the answer as to why he couldn’t get her off of his mind.
She’d held his thoughts in her hands the day that she ran away from him after clas-s.
And his love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Libia arrived home, she looked up at Damon. “Thank you. Even though I got we-t, I had fun,” Libia shrugged with a slight smile.
Damon smiled back. “I’m glad, Babe,” He k!$$£d her cheek. “If you nee-d me, I’m a phone call away,” He reminded her.
She nodded, smiling. “I know.”
He watched her go, hoping against hope that she didn’t get sick. It was now cold out, and she was wearing shorts and soaking we-t. He could only hope.
Libia entered her home, letting out a breath of relief when silence greeted her. No one had told her father just yet, and her brother and mother didn’t seem to be home.
She let herself relax, and then a sneeze wracked her b©dy.
She cursed throu-gh her sniffles, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she walked back to her room, gr-abbing a towel before walking into the bathroom and taking a h0t shower.
***
A week later.
Libia sat waiting for her brother to arrive home, refusing to let her heavy eyes close until his warm pres£nce was in the house. After that night, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep peacefully in an empty home. She always had nightmares of someone attacking her in her sleep. Her brother didn’t know this, of course. He as-sumed the first night he’d found her watching TV in the living room that she was worried about him. She didn’t offer any explanation, just hvgged him and set off to be-d without a word.
The Breakfast Club pla-yed on low volume, Libia remembering her brother’s words to her.
I’m going to a p@rty, Libs. You don’t nee-d to wait up for me tonight.
She worried about what those words meant. Did that mean he wouldn’t be home that night? If so…would she have to endure her never ending nightmares alone? She sniffled, wiping her slightly runny nose with yet another tissue. She’d gotten a minor cold from her night with Damon, but she was getting over it now.
Her mother took a double shift because the hospital was short on nurses, and she was the only one willing to take it. She nee-ded the money more than the others. So her mother would be working nonst©p from eight tonight to twelve tomorrow. She’d be dead on her feet when she finally c@m£ back home.
Libia bit her l!pas she looked at the clock below the TV. It was alre-ady one in the morning, and Ben wasn’t home yet. Libia couldn’t stay awake much longer.
Sighing, she blinked back the tears stinging her eyes and stood up, ma-king her way into the kitchen. She glanced out the front window for headlights, or even the silhouette of her brother coming up the sidewalk. There was none. ru-bbing her arms with her l!pbetween her teeth, Libia opened the fridge and gr@bb£d a water. She settled down in a stool, and was about to twist the cap off, when there c@m£ a knock.
Libia’s eyes brightened, and she jumped up from the stool, her water forgotten. She eagerly ran to the door, but when she unlocked it and threw it open, it was not who she thought it was going to be.
Damon stood, a little wobbly, as he looked in at Libia. Libia tilted her head, frowning. Her eyes moved over the bruises he had all over his face. “Damon, your face!”
There was ten seconds of silence. Damon stared into her caring, but confused eyes, and his strength crumbled. He staggered forward, and she caught him in her arms as he wra-pped his own weakly around her. He was shaking as she lowered him to the ground, and the heartbreaking g@sp that left hisl-ips struck Libia as she realized he was crying.
Libia was so alarmed that she couldn’t speak for a second. “Damon,” She whispered, lost, “What happened…why are you bruised?”
She smelled the faint smell of alcahol on his clothes, and the way he held her told her that this was a man whom nee-ded nothing but comfort.
“I am ashamed of you, you son of a bit-ch. How can you be such a dissapointment? Just like your Aunt!” He suddenly sobbe-d out. “That’sss what they ssaid to me. In front of my brother…in fffront of everry one!”
Libia’s eyes were wi-de as they stared blurrily over his shoulder, ru-bbing his back. “Who said that, Damon?” She whispered.
“Mom…Dad! I c@m£ home…fffrom the tattoo parlor. I was-s visiting Cas-s…they found cigarettes in my backpack…kicked me out,” His s£ntences were slurred and his words caught in his breath.
“Cigarettes?” Libia whispered to herself.
“They kicked me out…called me a worthless low life. My dad…my dad kept hitting me…and hitting me…”
“Shh, you don’t have to talk about it. It’s alright. Come on, Damon. Let’s get some ice on those bruises, hmm?”
He let her help him up, and she pu-ll-ed back so she could put a hand on his cheek, gently moving his face back and forth to as-sess the damage. His eyes refused to meet hers, downcast to the floor. His broken expression broke her heart. “Come on.”
She led him into the kitchen, having to support him some as he stumbled, drun!k.
She set him on a stool, and he put his head in his arms on the counter.
She prepared the ice pack, the silence filling the kitchen. She pu-ll-ed the ponytail holder from her hair to wra-p around the ends of the rag to hold them together, and her hair fell around her shoulders in the usual, unkempt waves. Damon moved sluggishly, as he lifted his head, setting his chin on his arms to watch her. His eyes blearily studied her raven hair, blinking slowly.
“You can stay for the night. That’s why you c@m£, right?” Libia asked as she turned around to look at him.
He blinked again, unsteadily using his arms to push himself back up. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. “I…I don’t…,” He scratched his head. Why had he come?
He remembered taking his eleventh sh0t, his friends cheering on some competitive game of pool going on around him while he himself wallowed in his own pain. And then while he was sitting there, he caught a glimpse of a girl with black hair, and his mind went to Libia. He’d made a resolve to see her…but why? The next thing he knew, he was walking from the bar, stumbling in the direction of Libia’s home.
Libia gave a concerned frown. “Come to think of it, I didn’t see any head lights. Or even hear a motorcycle. How did you get here?” She asked, ma-king her way towards him and having him turn his chair so she could take care of the bruises.
He didn’t answer as she got up on the stool in front of him, shifting so she sat on her knees. She was now level with his face, as she pressed the pack to his cheek. He noticed her attire for the first time. Soft-looking shorts paired with a tank t©p that showed off her perfectly-healing tattoo.
“Damon?” She asked, her voice soft.
Her eyes shifted from the icepack to his, and her breath staggered. His eyes were filled with tender de-sire. His nee-d for her was muddling his alre-ady befuddled mind. Carefully, he took the icepack from her hand, setting it to the side. He reached for her, and she willingly leaned toward him, her eyes caught in his, completely un-der his spell.
He pu-ll-ed her off of the stool she was on, and onto his l@p, and her legs straddled him. “Babe,” He whispered, his voice desperate, before he slid his hand to the back of her n£¢k, and pu-ll-ed her face to his, smashing hisl-ips to hers.
She returned his enthusiasm with her own. Hisl-ips tasted like tequila, but she was too lost in his t©uçh to care. He groped his hand down her side, sli-pping it un-der her shi-t as his f!nger ti-ps grazed back up, causing a shiver to wrack throu-gh her.
She pu-ll-ed away from him, opening her eyes to look up into his. “Why?” Was all she was able to ask.
He cu-mpped her face in both his hands, staring uncertainly into her big, innocent eyes. Could he really tell her what he felt for her?
Libia found the turmoil in his own eyes confusing, as she reached up to put her hands on each side of his n£¢k. “Damon, what do I mean to you?” This question had been on her mind since that k!ss. She was tired of searching her own mind for the answer.
He pressed hisl-ips into a thin line, before leaning down and pressing his face into her n£¢k. His father’s words repeated in his mind, and he shook his head against her skin. If she knew who he really was…she’d hate him. “I can’t…plea-se, Libia…just be with me tonight,” He mumbled.
For a few seconds, she stared down at his blond head. The man was in pain – that much was clear. It killed Libia to think of what his parents had done to him. Her eyes filled with tears as she whispered, “Let’s go sit on the couch, okay?”
He didn’t say anything, but he let her pu-ll his face from her n£¢k, and slide from his l@p. She took his hands, helping him up from the stool and leading him into the living room. She fli-pped on a lamp so a small bit of light illuminated the room, and sat him down on the couch, which she’d covered with comforters. He pu-ll-ed her into his l@p again, burying his face in her n£¢k and inhaling her scent.
“You’re not a low life,” She murmured, pla-ying with the strands of his blond hair.
He didn’t answer, pressing hisl-ips into a thin line.
“To have your parents call you that…is an indication that they have no idea who you really are.” She whispered, her other hand lying limply on his che-st, feeling his steady heartbeat.
His eyes squee-zed ti-ghter, as he wanted to flin-ch at her words. Why did he think he ever deserved this girl?
Still, he stayed there, holding her ti-ght to his che-st, breathing her scent, knowing that this would probably be the last night he was going to do it…for tomorrow…he’d tell her. Tell her everything. And she would cast him away, just as his parents had done.
He held her closer, pressing a tender, lingering k!ssto her n£¢k. “Baby,” He whispered.
He pu-ll-ed his head back to look into her eyes, as she brou-ght her hand up from his che-st to cu-p his cheek. He melded hisl-ips to hers, pu-lling her closer. Tears filled his closed eyes, at the thought of losing her, but he didn’t let them fall, pressing hisl-ips ha-rder to hers as she turned in his l@p until her legs were on either side of his. His ton-gue ran the length of her bottoml-ip, and Libia willingly opened her mouth. Damon groped his hands down her sides, taking the hem of her shi-t and lifting it. She gro-an ed softly when his f!ngerti-ps trailed back up, circling around to the small of her back and tracing tantalizing circles there.
Libia had never been this intimite with a man. She’d re-ad about it hundreds of times, and wondered what it would be like, but she never expected the effect it had on her. Her stomach was bubbling with bu-tterflies, her hands had a mind of their own as they slid around his torso, clutching at his muscular shoulders with nee-d and the unmistakable feeling of lvst.
One of Damon’s hands slid into her hair, before carefully combing his f!ngersdown the black locks, causing sparks to ignite inside Libia and tingles to race down her back. She shivered almost violently as she m0@n ed in plea-sure.
All the while, Damon held her almost desperately, clinging onto every sound, every sweet movement of her b©dy against his. The way her hands clutched fistfuls of his shi-t, or the loving, slightly clumsy way she moved herl-ips against his, inciting tender love and overpowering de-sire all at once.
How could he let her go after this?
When he pu-ll-ed away, Libia p@n-ted for breath, her eyes fluttering open to stare into his, but he pressed his face into her n£¢k again, as if ashamed to look at her. “I’m sorry, Libia,” He suddenly mumbled.
She was so confused. Was he doing this because he was drun!k? Or was there something else he wasn’t telling her?
Never the less, she didn’t ask him about it, only whispered words of comfort, shifting so she sat comfortably in his l@p and running her f!ngersthrou-gh his hair. She knew the alcahol had something to do with it. He wouldn’t be showing this side of him if he were sober. He’d be hiding it. Protecting her from a side of him he didn’t want her to see. But a big p@rt of it had to do with his family – his past. Just what happened to him?
***
She couldn’t remember how his head had ended up in her l@p, as he la-id stretched out on the couch, slee-ping peacefully. She only remembered humming softly to him as he buried his face in her stomach, running her f!ngersthrou-gh his hair. Now, her eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling. She shifted, sitting up, realizing that she was still on the couch, but Damon’s head was no longer in her l@p. She began to look for him, but found him sitting with his forehead in his hand, at the end of the couch.
“Hey,” She yawned.
He didn’t answer her, his eyes closing at the sound of her voice.
She paused in the act of stretching when he didn’t move, nor aknowledge her. “Damon?”
He took in a shaky breath, gathering himself. “I…have to tell you something, Libia.”
She hesitated, before sliding onto the cushion next to him, settling on her knees. “What is it?”
He clenched his other hand into a fist at his side, hisl-ips pressing into a thin line. He took in a de-ep breath in throu-gh his nose, his fist squee-zing ti-ghter as he opened his mouth…and something completely different than he had intended pas-sed hisl-ips.
“I can’t see you anymore, Libia.”
Even he had to flin-ch at the words. Where had that come from?
Libia blinked, and then laughed slightly. “What?”
Still, he decided that his br@in knew better than his mouth.
“I said I can’t see you anymore. So…,” His fist squee-zed so ha-rd that he could have sworn he drew blood, “Don’t look at me…,” ti-ghter still, “Don’t talk to me…,” ti-ghter, “And don’t…try to help me again!”
Veins in his hand bur-st he squee-zed so ha-rd .
Libia sat, dumbfounded, as he abruptly stood. “This will be the last time we speak. Ever.” He tried desperately to hide the rou-gh edge in his voice.
“Damon…,” Libia whispered, dre-ad filling her heart.
Had this all been some game, just like Johnson? Had she really been pla-yed – again? Although this time, instead of feeling humiliation, her heart shattered into a million pieces. Damon…had been special to her. She’d…she’d fallen in love with him!
Damon made the mistake of glancing back at her face as he strode from the living room. She clutched her hand to her che-st, eyes filled with tears, face…crumbled.
His breath caught, and he strode from the room.
Libia flin-ched ha-rd as the front door slammed, signaling that he’d left…without another word.
A sob bubbled up, and she stood, running to her room.
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