?LIBIA (Find my confidence)?
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Chapter Nine.
Damon sat in the back seat, Libia slee-ping, curled up close to his side. Two of his friends had called a cab, but the other three were in with them. Neil drove, while Leo and Dennis sat silently, soberly beside them.
“Hey man, I’m glad she’s alright, at any rate.” Neil said, noticing the ba-rely-contained anger in his friend.
Damon ti-ght£ñed his grip on Libia, and she cu-mddled closer to him in response. “Yeah,” He replied, unable to think of another answer.
The car fell into more silence, as they arrived at Leo’s house on the way to Libia’s. Damon couldn’t get ahold of either of the Fields’ from Libia’s contacts on her phone. He hoped they were home.
“Hey, I hope she’s really okay, man. Sorry about this,” Leo told him as he opened the door.
Shaking his head, he grit his teeth, “Don’t tell me that. I’m not the one with bruises all over their face,” Damon ground out.
Sighing, Leo nodded. “Right. Keep me upd@t£d, though. I mean it. I want to know if she’s alright.”
Damon gave a long sigh, softening his tone. “Thanks man. Sorry. I will.”
Leo got out of the car with one more goodbye to the others, walking leisurely up to his house.
When they pu-ll-ed away, Neil sighed. “I’ll drop you off next, Damon, seeing as Dennis is out.”
Shaking his head, Damon looked over into the pas-s£nger seat. Neil was right, Dennis was pas-sed out cold.
Libia stirred in his arms, mumbling something incoherent before settling back down again, this time with her face pressed into Damon’s n£¢k, her breath tickling the skin.
“How did you get involved with this girl?” Neil asked him quietly.
Looking up, Damon raised an eyebrow at his friend from the rear view mirror. “What do you mean?”
Shrugging, Neil replied, “She just doesn’t seem like the kind of girl you’d go for. Your usually into the wild types,” Neil’s eyebrows raised a fraction in the mirror, “She doesn’t seem very wild to me.”
Damon sighed. “She’s not exactly wild, but she’s not exactly tame either. She’s tra-pped in a goody-two-shoes family. I wanted to help her out of that. Also…she’s different. And before you go calling me on the corny line, it’s true. She’s innocent, and sweet. Sweet as hell. I guess I nee-d a little innocence in my life,” Damon shrugged.
Neil snorted quietly. “Yeah. God knows not a single bone in your b©dy is innocent.”
Damon glowered at his friend from the rear view mirror. “Just shut up and drive.”
Neil laughed, but did as he was told.
When they arrived at the house, Damon noticed that all the lights were on. In the curtains, he could he a silhouette pacing.
“Uh-oh. You said you couldn’t get ahold of them, right?” Neil asked him.
Damon shook his head. “Nope,” He sighed, “I just hope her brother doesn’t jump me before I can get an explanation out.”
With that said, Damon shook Libia gently. “Hey, we’re here, Babe.”
“Hmm?” Libia c@m£ awake, groggily looking around. She sat confused for a moment, before she met Damon’s eyes. “Oh. Alre-ady?” She mumbled, glancing tiredly out the window.
Damon, despite himself, let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Alre-ady.”
“Okay,” She whispered, letting Damon open the door and help her out.
She swayed slightly, too tired to hold herself upright. Damon caught her, and chuckled softly as he st©pped by Neil’s window. Neil unrolled it, peering out at him. “You can go ahead and drop Dennis off. I’ll call my brother to pick me up,” He told him.
Nodding, Neil waited for them to get around the car and on the sidewalk, before he pu-ll-ed out and drove off. “Ben isn’t going to be happy,” Libia mumbled, leaning her temple on Damon’s shoulder as he helped her walk.
Damon shook his head, wra-pping an arm around her w@!st and practically picking her up, seeing as her feet dragged anyway. “Why should he be? I wouldn’t be surprised if he never let me see you again,” He told Libia.
Lifting her head, Libia frowned at Damon. “He’s going to worsh!pthe ground you walk on, Damon. What I mean is that he’s not going to take the news that I got attacked easily. Neither is Mom. You know it’s not your fault,” Libia told him in a scolding manner, setting her hand on his bicep and squee-zing for emphasis.
Damon shook his head, but murmured, “Sure, sure.”
Sighing as they reached the front door, Libia reached out and pressed the doorbell. “Don’t you have a key?” He asked her.
She shrugged. “I don’t feel like finding it.”
He un-derstood that.
The door flew open without delay, and there stood Ben, seething with worry and anger. “Where have you been? Do you know how- Libia, your face!” Ben rushed out, noticing the bruises she sported.
“I’m alright, Ben. Really-”
“She was attacked. On her way home, two lollygags thought it was a good idea to jump her,” Damon cut in before Libia could chicken out with some lame excuse.
Libia winced. She knew how her brother would react.
And she was right. Ben seethed with anger. His hands clenched into fists, and his b©dy began shaking. He let out a roar and his fist went flying, smashing into the wall beside the door.
Suddenly, their mother appeared in the doorway, calm and collected. She gr@bb£d ahold of Ben and dragged him away, calling back, “Go in the kitchen and get settled. I want the full story when I calm him down!”
He was unsurprised by Libia’s brother’s reaction. Ben took it better than Damon did. Damon completely blacked out with rage. He stepped throu-gh the threshold, holding Libia securely to his side, although she was more alert now. He sat her down on a kitchen stool and turned her chair to face him. Lifting her chin so her face was tilted in the light, he examined her bruises. “Where are your rags?” He asked her.
“Third droor down by the sink,” She replied softly.
Words couldn’t explain the shock she felt when he briefly pressed hisl-ips to her marred cheek, so warm and soft that she wanted to close her eyes and relish in it. But he pu-ll-ed away, and she watched as he turned and opened the droor she had directed him to, pu-lling out a large kitchen towel and opening the freezer. He filled the rag with ice, bunching it up in his fist to create a make-shift ice pack, and approached her. He carefully pressed it to her swollen cheek, his serious, but tender gaze colliding with her wi-de, innocent one. He pressed his hand to her other cheek, and a soft smile finally showed itself, although it was small.
“I’m glad you’re safe, Libia.”
She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks, but she doubted it was noticable, seeing that her bruise throbbe-d anyway.
The coolness of the ice began to seep throu-gh the cloth, providing relief from the pain.
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be safe, Damon. Remember that,” She told him, settling a hand on his che-st, over his heart.
Damon dropped his hand from her cheek, and she from his che-st, as they heard her mother and brother ma-king their way to the kitchen, speaking quietly.
Damon kept holding the icepack over her cheek, taking her chin to turn her head and asess the damage done to her by Johnson and Bailey earlier that day. His eyebrows furrowed and he sighed heavily. That one really was his fault. If he hadn’t joined the football team, he would have been there with her. As soon as he got the time, he was dropping out and taking up gym clas-s again.
“Oh! Are we inturrupting something?” Damon dropped his hand, turning to see her mother standing in the doorway. It amused him slightly to find that her eyes were hopeful.
Libia almost gro-an ed in embarras-sment, as her gaze moved up to Ben, who stood there with his che-st puffed out, brotherly mode showing proudly as he scrutinized Damon like a predator watches it’s prey.
“Of course not, Mrs. Fields. I’m just tending to Libia’s bruise,” Damon said smoothly, causing Libia to look at him.
“Don’t call me Mrs. Fields. I’ll feel old. Call me Sadie,” Her mother told him.
“Sure,” He told her.
Libia put a hand on his, which still held the icepack. He looked at her, and she indicated that she could hold it herself. He nodded, a little reluctantly, and gently pu-ll-ed his hand out from un-der hers.
“So what’s this about Libia being attacked?” Her mother asked, pu-lling out a chair at the kitchen table and turning it to face them as she sat down. Ben followed her lead.
Damon sat beside Libia, facing away from the counter so he could lean his elbows on it. “I tried calling you to tell you what happened. I couldn’t get ahold of either of you before her phone died, and I had no way of contacting you otherwise – I didn’t have your number. Two hours ago, Libia got off of her shift early and began walking home. I was at the sto-re with a few friends at the time and noticed her leave. nee-dless to say, I got worried. I had planned on following after her to walk her home, but by the time I found her, it was too late. They were obviously drun!k, the two that had attacked her, and they were looking for a good time I suppose. I got there just in time to see Libia being pushed into a tree and then…” He trailed off, and then let out a hesitant laugh, “I don’t remember what happened after that. I blacked out. Libia told me that I beat the living hell out of them, but I don’t remember. All I remember is one second I’m standing there watching this guy treat Libia like some-,” He cut himself off, his fists clenching briefly and his eyes closing as he contained his anger, “And the next,” He continued, opening his eyes, “I’m standing over them while they l@yon the concrete, out cold. My fists are bloody and bruising, and Libia is calling my name,” He finished, shrugging.
The room was silent. Libia’s breathing was slightly shaky as the memory she’d tried to keep at bay c@m£ back to her. She didn’t like to think of the outcome if Damon hadn’t been there.
Noticing her anxiety, Damon quic-kly reached out, taking her free hand and enclosing it in his. Their eyes met for a long moment, before Libia’s breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. She gave him a weak smile of thanks.
“Oh god,” Sadie said, suddenly feeling feint.
“Mom?” Ben reached for her as she leaned over, her elbows leaning on her knees.
Libia sprung from her chair in worry, setting aside the ice pack, and hurrying to where her mother sat, hunched and shaking.
She leaned down in front of her, taking her shoulders in each hand. “Mom?”
“My baby!” The calm front she had been putting up crumbled, as she reached out and pu-ll-ed Libia into her.
“Mom, I’m okay!” Libia as-sured, alarmed as she squee-zed her mother’s shoulders in emphasis of her words.
“But you might not have been! You might have been…k-killed! Violated! My little girl!” She pu-ll-ed her ti-ghter to her che-st, causing Libia to pu-ll her mother out of her chair and onto the floor so she could hold her without Libia snapping in half with the f0rç£ of her arms.
Libia now had the strong front pu-ll-ed up. She’d had practice with hiding her emotions before, when their dear grandfather died days after their grandmother did. They’d been a second parent to Libia, but she had to be strong for her mother and her brother, knowing that their normally boisterous personalities were also very, very fragile. Sometimes a person could be so naturally happy, that when they fall – they fall the ha-rd est, and shatter. Libia had seen it when her grandparents died, and she had seen it when her dad left her mother. Both times, she’d been the rock holding the family together. This time was no different.
So, she gently rocked her mother, rebelling against the tears that wanted to come. Beside them, Ben sank to his knees, gently setting a hand on his mother’s back. Damon could only watch the change he saw in Libia. She looked years older than eighteen. Her face serious and far from the fearful, sobbing girl he’d held in his arms just hours before. It struck him to realize that Libia was used to this. She was used to being the mother figure of the family. She also looked weary, and it was no surprise, either. He wondered how long she’d had to be the parent in the family. How long she’d had to be strong and mature for those who couldn’t be. She must have been tired, to take on such a responsibility.
***
It was hours later that Libia was standing on the doorstep, her shi-t stained with her mother’s tears, in front of Damon. Damon was waiting for his brother to pick him up, seeing as they’d gone to her home in his friend’s car. Neil, she remembered that he’d introduced himself. She could ha-rd ly remember the other’s names, as the few hours after the attack were spent in an exhausted haze on her p@rt. She only remembered Neil’s name because he’d mentioned that he was Damon’s oldest friend.
They stared at each0ther in the limited, orange light of the corner street post, clashing with the silvery light of the moon. She could ba-rely see his eyes as he was turned away from the light, darkening his face, but she knew he wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t either. How could she?
“Thank-” She began, but he cut her off.
“If I have to hear “thank you” one more time, I’m going to puke,” He muttered.
She knew he was serious, but she was unable to st©p a laugh from escaping. “Fine, then what do you want? There is no way that I can pay you back for what you did. I owe you my life. At least let me try and thank you somehow,” Libia said, shrugging.
Even in the darkness, Libia could see Damon tense, and wheels began turning in his head. She tilted her own, wondering what suddenly had him thinking so ha-rd .
“You know, there is something…,” He trailed off, taking a smooth step forward.
Libia looked up at him. Now that he was blocking the light behind him, she could see his face better. His eyes twi-nkled with mirth, and it was refreshing to see something other than that serious gaze that he had on, trying to hide the anger that he still felt, but failing. She saw no anger, now, just intent.
“What is it?” She asked him curiously.
“Isn’t the damsel always supposed to repay her knight in shining armor with a k!ssor some stupid $h!t like that?” He asked.
Libia paused for a moment, before snorting. “Was that supposed to be ro-mantically witty? Because adding ‘some stupid $h!t like that’ kind of ruined it,” She informed him.
And then it sank in, and she looked sharply up at him. “What did you say?”
He gr!pp£dher face in both of his hands. “This will be enough…for tonight,” He murmured, before leaning down, capturing herl-ips with his.
She g@sped, and then her eyes fluttered closed. Was this…for real?
One of his hands gingerly sli-pped into her hair, cradling the back of her head.
Yep. This is definitely real. She thought, as the familiar feel of hisl-ips moving slow and steady on hers, and the stubble that tickled her chin caused bu-tterflies to take flight in her stomach, and she shivered. Her hands reached up, cradling his cheeks for a moment, feeling the prickly hair that framed his perfect jaw, before sli-pping into his hair. Her stomach rippled with de-sire, and pas-sion, and the nights events melted into the background. His other arm wra-pped around her w@!st, pu-lling her snug against him. She felt varying emotions pool in her stomach, and floun-der throu-gh her thoughts. Confusion as to what this meant, excitement and nervousness, as to what this might mean, and finally, the flower blooming in her heart grew tenfold. Ten new buds sprung to life, and began blooming. She was in love. Undoubtedly.
And this scared the hell out of her.
They both heard the car pu-ll up at the curb, but Damon refused to pu-ll away. Instead, he backed away, pu-lling her with him until they reached the edge of the porch. Finally, recluctantly, he re-leased herl-ips. Could this have only lasted a few minutes? It felt as if it had lasted years, and yet she nee-ded more. Staring up at him, eyes wi-de, emotions on displa-y, she basked in the way he smiled down at her, their faces close enough that their labored breathing mingled together.
“See you tomorrow, Babe,” He whispered, running his f!ngersthrou-gh the length of her hair.
Mindlessly, she nodded. “Okay.”
He loved the way her dazed eyes looked in the moonlight. They shined with so much emotion, that letting her go would most likely kill him. Her hands were still in his hair, and he didn’t think she realized that one of them was moving in a soothing rhythm, stro-king his hair as if he were her pet. And at that moment, he was. He was putty in her hands, and she wasn’t even aware.
Even though his brother hadn’t called to him yet, he knew he was impatient. Damon had to comfort himself with the knowledge that he would see her tomorrow, in order to finally re-move his arm from around her w@!st. The dissapointment in her eyes was enough to drown him. He couldn’t help but drop a k!ssto her forehead in reflex.
“See you tomorrow,” He repeated, and then added in a softer, huskier tone, “Baby.”
The f0rç£ of that single word could have dropped Libia to her knees, if she hadn’t been frozen in surprise. With one last wi-nk in the darkness, he turned and began walking to where his brother waited in the car. Libia knew her cheeks were flaming, as her eyes watered from the heat, but she blinked away the meaningless tears, watching him open the door and glance back at her. Even from here, she could see the hvge, boyish grin he had on his face. A reflexive smile split her face in return.
“See you tomorrow,” She replied softly, even though he’d alre-ady gotten into the car.
“What are you smiling at?” Jack asked him when Damon closed the door.
Damon knew that his brother wasn’t happy with him for waking him up at four in the morning, but Damon couldn’t care less. He simply shook his head, his eyes trained on the black haired beauty still standing on the porch as Jack pu-ll-ed off.
***
When Libia awoke the next morning, her bruise was throbbing again, only this time with more f0rç£. gro-an ing, she sma-cked her hand down on the alarm a few times, before it finally turned off. She rolled over, staring at the ceiling as she tried to blink the blurriness from her eyes.
Beside her, her brother and her mother sle-pt soundly still, her mother cradled soundly to Ben’s che-st. It was almost comical, this big, twenty year old man cudd-ling the tiny woman that was their mother to him like a teddybear. But Libia also found it very, very sweet. He almost looked like the little boy she used to know, in his sleep. Her mother used to cudd-lehim the same way when he’d had a nightmare, which he was prone to. Carefully, she sli-pped from be-d, pu-lling the covers up over them both. They deserved to sleep a little longer. They’d insisted on slee-ping in Libia’s be-d with her like they used to do on stormy nights back home. It gave Libia comfort.
She went downstairs, picking up the remote for the TV so she could watch from the kitchen while she made breakfast. She turned it on, and was surprised to find her own face staring back at her. An old yearbook ph0to from two years ago. Libia was smiling hvgely in the picture. It was after she’d gotton her br@ces off, and she couldn’t have been happier. But right now, she wasn’t happy. Far from it. She was mortified. Splashed across the screen in colors much like police lights, the headline of the news story re-ad LOCAL GIRL JUMPED GOING HOME FROM WORK.
She turned up the sound as the reporter c@m£ on screen. “-Recieved news that the girl was alledgedly jumped on her way home from her job. Witnesses say that she was two blocks away from the grocery sto-re which she works, when two as-sailents approached, one in front, and one behind. One distracted the girl, while the other sneaked up and gr@bb£d her…,” Witnesses? What witnesses? As far as Libia knew, there was no one there but herself and Damon. And how did they get her yearbook picture? Those were all left at her home town!
She turned her attention back to the TV, teaming with embarras-sment. “-We were told that another man, apparently a friend of the girl, caught the as-sailents in the act of attempting to r@p£ the girl, and attacked,” Libia stepped back as another picture c@m£ up on screen. A slightly younger version of Damon stared back at her, eyes bored, no smile evident.
“The two as-sailents are in custody at this time, and we have been informed that the girl got away unharmed.” Two pictures, side by side, flashed up onscreen. The two men that had attacked her, their faces bashed in and bloody, their eyes swollen shut – both of them.
Libia winced. Geez, Damon. How can you not remember doing that?
She sank down on the couch, her appetite forgotten. Who could have reported this? How could they have gotten the story together so quic-kly – the pictures, the witness accounts, the police reports. How the hell could they have done it so quic-kly?
Libia picked up her phone from the coffee table, unplugging it from the charger, and finding Damon’s number with ease. She typed the message in a daze.
Did you see it?
It was seconds later that he texted back.
Yep.
Shaking her head, she said,
I’m not going into school today. I’m taking a sick day.
A minute later, she got a text back.
I don’t think I’m going to either. How about we don’t go to school together?
Libia smiled, shivering as she remembered their most recent k!ss.
I thought you’d never ask.
Tbc