AN: So everyone, here is my latest chapter :) It is pretty dense, mostly Damian talking about how he's feeling. I hope I don't bore all of you, but I needed to share his feelings with you, and I thought that a therapy lesson may be the best way to do it! His thoughts are kind of all over the place right now, I hope you follow :P
Also, I don't know if any of you caught this, because nobody commented on it, but I implied that Damian is not religious in the first chapter. That was intentional- although Damian isn't religious in this story, he is in real life! Just so you all know.
Later on in this story, there is a dream inside a memory... pretty weird, huh? I'm sure you are all very smart and can figure it out!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Anything that happens to them in the story is a total work of FICTION! I am not affiliated with Glee or The Glee Project, and I am not making money off of this story!
Damian fiddled with the strings on his hospital gown as he sat in a wheelchair. An old man sat on a couch in front of him, notebook in hand. It was Damian's first therapy session, one of many to come in the next two years. Everyday for as long as he was in the hospital. He was not looking forward to this. Spilling all of his thoughts and fears to this doctor seemed like a stupid thing to do. But Lindsay told Damian again and again that he should be as open to his therapist as possible. Lindsay's mom- Damian's aunt- was a pyschologist for very young children, mostly preteens, so Damian figured Lindsay knew what she was talking about. So he had promised to try not to hesitate to tell Dr. Jake anything.
His therapist, Dr. Jake started the session off with a seemingly simple question.
"How are you feeling today, Damian?"
How am I feeling? No words to describe how I'm feeling. Damian thought as he looked up out the window.
"I don't know..." he murmured. Dr. Jake nodded thoughtfully, tapping his pen on his chin.
"Just try and tell me what you're feeling at this very moment, Damian." he requested. Damian took a deep breath.
"I feel... nothing." Damian said. He gave frustrated sigh, feeling words well up in his throat. "I feel like all the good times have been sucked away, and all the bad times have been numbed down to a fuzzy smudge. I feel like an empty, broken shell. Everyone, you, and especially Cameron, wants to understand. But I can't share with them, I literally can't. I have no words, no emotion. Nothing at all."
"You never feel any emotion. That can be dangerous, Damian." Dr. Jake said gravely.
"Well, I don't feel emotion until I go to sleep, and then everything comes blasting back at me, all at once." Damian's hands were shaking slightly.
"I can't stand the pressure, the sudden emotion I feel after being so numb. It's too much... I can't do anything. I can't cry, I can only scream in terror. All I can do is feel. Feel the bad and the ugly. One part of me thinks it feels good, in a way, because I'd rather feel horrible than feel nothing at all. But the other part of me is begging for relief. But when the relief finally comes, I feel numb again. I can never win." Damian buried his head in his hands. Once he had started, it was hard to stop talking. It was liberating, being able to a stranger about his problems without worrying about how it would affect that person. Dr. Jake was nodding again.
"The on and off emotion is confusing me. Reliving memories has never been easy for me, but now it kind of makes me disoriented, mentally. I'm not sure what's reality and what's part of my imagination."
"When did this last happen, Damian?" Dr. Jake asked.
"Two days ago. I was... y'know... having another panic attack. Or at least on the verge of one. Something reminded me of.. the knife that he always used. It confused me. I kept thinking that maybe he was hiding... hiding inside Cameron. A voice in my head told me that that was impossible... that Cameron was Cameron, and Cam would never hurt me. But the other voice in my head kept telling me that it wasn't Cameron, it was just a person that looked like Cameron.
I couldn't tell what I was supposed to believe, what was truth and what was a lie. It made my head spin, and I really wanted to pass out, or scream, or cry, or jump out of bed, or just tell the voices to shut up. But I couldn't. And then Cameron reached out and held my hand, and I asked him to sing a song. I knew that if Cameron sang, I would know what was real and what wasn't. After he finished singing, I knew it was still him."
"How did you feel after he sang? Better?" Dr. Jake asked.
"Yeah. Much better. After he finished singing that song, I felt at peace- the voices stopped yelling, and I felt content, y'know? Protected. It brought a nice memory back..." Damian trailed off, sighing thoughtfully.
"Which one?" Dr. Jake prodded.
"The time we met- at a singing convention. We weren't supposed to meet each other, actually. It was a total mistake that brought Cameron to me. But in a way, it wasn't a mistake. It wasn't a mistake, because how could it be? Meeting Cameron brought me such good things. Support, encouragement. Like a big brother. I feel like...it was fate that brought Cameron to me. As Cameron would say, God had a plan. I met my best friend. I'd never had a best friend until then, but it- it felt good. It made me happy. For a couple minutes, at least."
Damian sunk into silence. Dr. Jake watched him carefully. The leaves on the trees outside the window rustled softly in the breeze.
"Who do you trust most, Damian?" Dr. Jake asked thoughtfully.
"Cameron." Damian said without hesitating.
"What about your parents?" Dr. Jake asked.
"Well, I trust them, too. But they're always away from home, even out of the country, and I usually didn't talk to them. It wasn't too bad, but sometimes I wanted a family member to talk to. Like a big brother or sister, or even a little sister or brother... I got lonely being the only child. But I always knew I could count on Cam when I couldn't reach my parents. If I was feeling down, he would cheer me up. I could ask him for advice, for feedback, for encouragment.
Like, a couple years ago, my girlfriend was pushing me for a sexual relationship, and I didn't want that. And she said things one day that really hit me hard. So I Skyped Cameron about it, and he talked me through it, and he made me see what I wanted to do - I broke up with her the next day. That sort of thing- I felt I could call him up at anytime when something was sucky.
And now, Cam visits me in the hospital every single day, willing to give up his time to be with me. He comforts me in a way no one else can. He's the only one I can really talk to, he knows exactly what to say when I'm angry, he holds my hand when I need something to grab onto. He even strokes my hair when I need comforting. When Cam's around, I feel like I can pick up a tiny piece of emotion again. My parents don't do that for me, sadly enough. Maybe they could if they were around more, but they aren't."
"You said earlier that you feel confused about reality. Does Cameron know about this?"
"To an extent. He knows I have these panic attacks when something reminds me of the past, and he knows I kind of lose my sanity a little afterwards... he always tells me stories about his life, school and stuff, until I calm down a bit. But nobody- except you, I guess- knows about the voices. Cameron doesn't need to know that I'm so messed up that I hear voices arguing in my head. Cameron doesn't need to know I'm weak." Damian said, with a trace of bitterness.
Damian fiddled with the hem on his hospital gown, carefully picking at the little threads. Dr. Jake pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned back in his chair.
"Damian, you are not weak. You are much, much stronger than most of the patients I have. I mean, you are strong enough to leave your bed, for one, and also, you have enough strength to talk about how you feel, and you have enough strength to describe your panic attacks to me. Not many people can do that, especially during their very first therapy session. From what you have told me today, you aren't weak, but you feel... out of control, yet almost detatched." Dr. Jake said.
"Yeah." Damian said.
"Moderate emotion is non existent right now, it's always extreme." Dr. Jake suggested.
Damian nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it's either really mad or really sad or really tired or really happy or really thoughtful or really irritable or really frustrated."
Dr. Jake nodded. "You need to find a way to express yourself. Drawing, writing, talking to someone about your emotions. What do you like to do, Damian?"
Damian shrugged. "Sing, I guess. But I can't sing anymore. I can't sing physically, and I can't sing emotionally. I don't feel the song when I sing anymore. I only feel the song when Cameron sings. Or Lindsay, maybe, but she hasn't sung for me after I've come back.
"Well, Damian, I have an idea." Dr. Jake reached into the desk and pulled out a blue notebook. "Everyday, write down a couple words or lyrics in this. It can be one word describing how you feel, or a song that you think expresses what you feel. Even try writing your own songs. And maybe... you can have Cameron sing them for you. I mean, from what I've heard, Cameron makes up your entire support system." Dr. Jake said.
"Yes. He's my rock, Cam is. But I don't think I can do this."
"Damian, you have to try letting him into your world a little. Tell him how numb or terrified you feel sometimes. Tell him about what confuses you. I'm sure it will help, Damian, writing down words and lyrics and hearing them being sung. Just try it for a week."
Damian stayed quiet, tracing the spine of the notebook.
"Maybe..." he said softly. "Maybe."
Damian flinched as he heard the door close with a loud bang. He lay on the floor in the corner, shivering and whimpering, eyes closed and arms wrapped tightly around his body. Pain was shooting up his leg, and he could feel blood trickling down his thigh and pooling on the floor around him.
A thin stream of moonlight shone through the small window near the ceiling and dust sparkled in the tiny rays of light that streamed down, casting a deceptively gentle glow on the blood-stained floor. Damian opened his eyes slightly, and found himself mesmerized by the light like he had been so many times before. The light represented the Outdoors. The Past. The good that still existed out there, just past that window. The window that was too high and too small to escape through. No hope, no chance of ever breathing air on the other side of the window ever again.
Damian closed his eyes again, breathing lightly, fading out into half sleeping state. Still aware of the pain shooting through his right leg, but not really feeling it, because he wasn't in the attic anymore, trapped by the pain. Instead, he was floating in the sky, past the stars and the moon, back to New York or back to Ireland, where his friends and family greeted him with smiles. The pain in his leg was a minor now, numbed down to a small throbbing. His mum and dad, Nael, Lindsay, Cameron. Everyone. Damian could taste all of his favourite foods, and he could see all of his favourite faces. He could see his dad dancing with Lindsay, and Nael making faces at the little kids. He could see his mum smiling and talking to Aunt Mikaya, and he could see Cameron with his guitar, singing his songs. Damian smiled at his parents and they smiled back. Lindsay motioned for Damian to join them, but he shook his head. He wanted to talk to someone else. Damian walked over to where Cameron was sitting cross-legged on the porch, a paper plate balanced precariously on his knee and a plastic cup sitting next to him.
"Hey, Damo!" Cameron smiled, waving his plastic fork at Damian as he approached. "Why are you limping?"
"I don't know. It just kind of hurts." Damian said as he sat down next to Cameron, his feet dangling off the edge of the porch.
"Does it hurt a lot? Are you okay?" Cameron asked worriedly. Damian waved his hand, shaking the pain off.
"Yeah, it's nothing. What've you been up to?" Damian asked.
"Not much, Damo. Just the usual. I wrote a song! Want to hear it?" Cameron picked up his guitar and started to strum. When he opened his mouth, a beautiful string of Irish melodies came out. Damian raised his eyebrows in surprise. He didn't know Cameron knew any Irish at all. But that was okay, because the song was the most gorgeous thing Damian had ever heard. He stared at Cameron as he continued singing, glasses perched on his nose and a small necklace around his neck. As the song drifted to an end, the crickets started chirping and they were suddenly alone in the yard. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of crickets and grass rustling.
"Hey, Cam?" Damian said, his voice breaking through the silence.
"Yeah?" Cameron said, turning towards his friend.
"I missed you."
"I've missed you, too. Where have you been?"
"Somewhere bad."
"Really? Where?" Cameron asked with a bit of fascination.
"I'm not sure, exactly. Just somewhere bad."
"I'm glad you got out of there." Cameron said seriously.
"Me, too." Damian said just as seriously.
"You never stopped trying to escape?"
"Nope. I never gave up hope." Damian assured him. Cameron considered Damian's words for a while.
"That's good. You should never, ever give up, because I don't know what I would've done if you didn't come back." Cameron said.
"Right. But sometimes I didn't know if I could come back." Damian admitted.
"What do you mean? You just said you never gave up hope." Cameron said, slightly accusingly.
"Yeah, I didn't. But I thought it may be impossible to get out. That there was absolutely no way, even if you had hope." Damian explained.
"Well, you did it. It was possible. Nothing is impossible. You just have to stay strong until you find the way." Cameron said.
"Right. Everything is possible. I just had to find a way." Damian agreed.
"So how did you get out?"
"I don't know. I think someone came and got me."
"Really? Who?" Cameron asked curiously.
"I'm not sure... I mean, I think I know, but that doesn't make sense..." Damian said slowly.
"Who do you think it was?" Cameron said.
"Well, I'm pretty sure it was you, Cam." Damian said.
"Impossible! I would've remembered a thing like that!" Cameron scoffed.
"Well, I don't know. I thought we decided that nothing's impossible." Damian reminded Cameron.
"Oh yeah. Yeah... maybe I did rescue you..." Cameron frowned slightly at the moon.
"I think you did. They had strong hands, like yours." Damian said.
"I might be strong. But so are you. Maybe you rescued yourself." Cameron told Damian.
"Yeah. Maybe."
They talked for the rest of the night, sitting on the porch, watching the moon travel across the sky. Just before the sun rose, Cameron stood up.
"I have to leave now." Cameron told Damian.
"Really? Are you sure?" Damian whined.
"Sorry, Damo. I'll call you later, okay?" Cameron said.
"I don't want you to go." Damian said. Cameron hugged Damian tightly, and then pulled back.
"Close your eyes, Damian." he said. Damian hesitated. "Please, Damo? Close your eyes. I'll be back." Damian finally sighed and closed his eyes. He felt Cameron's hand resting on his shoulder.
"I'll be back." he said before he left. "I'll be back."
Damian slowly opened his eyes to the sight of the attic. The pain in his leg was back and Cameron was gone, and ray of sunlight had replaced the beam of moonlight shining through the window. He sighed, and dragged himself up to his hands and knees, slowly crawling across the floor and into the opposite corner where his 'bed' was. Damian felt different. Heavier yet lighter than he had before. His head seemed to hurt less and he could feel energy ever so slowly seep back into his tired limbs as he cleaned the cuts on his leg as best he could with a little of his precious water and the tip of his bloodstained shirt.
Cameron said he would be back, Damian reassured himself as he finished cleaning his wounds. He'll be back. Damian wrapped his leg up with his jacket- the one he had been wearing the day he was taken, and one of the only things he owned anymore. He settled down on the floor, trying to ignore the flashes of pain in his leg. You can't give up hope, Damian. he thought, Cameron told you to never, ever give up hope. The real Cameron would tell you that, too, and you know it. Can't give up, because you might get out of here tomorrow. You never know.
And everyday after that, Damian would always tell himself that.
Don't give up.
Maybe tomorrow.
You never know...
AN: So, did you follow the whole dream inside a memory concept? I hope so! (It's sort of like Inception! Maybe I should write a dream inside a memory inside a memory inside a dream :P)
Now, I hope you were moderately satisfied with this chapter, because it was pretty hard for me to write. I've been working on it for about three weeks now... yeah. Except for the memory sequence. That was written and edited in about two hours :P However, if you didn't like this chapter, that's okay, because it was slightly uneventful. But the next chapter...
Next chapter, Damian has a major break down about something. *lovetheangst* On the bright side, this is followed by him seeing his parents on Skype, and they bring some pretty good news :)
Please review! I love them reviews! Seriously, even a smiley face or a frowny face will do!