Chapter 96 Alternative title: the First Devastation. (I'm not pulling my punches here! We're really in the thick of it now...)
I LOVED reading everyones theories for the previous chapter! Gosh, I almost wish that I thought of some of them first!Please nevver stop sending them to me, its honestly so exciting and I love hearin gyour thoughts. Some of your questions will be answered in this chapter, only to be replaced by even more questions. Sorry about that, but please enjoy! xx
.
.
.
.
.
In other years, Damian slept relatively well after the Imperial Ball. On his return from completing his Imperial Scholar duties (laden with the regret of not asking anya to the Ball, again), Emile and Ewen would welcome him back to the dorms with open arms, board games at the ready, and there they would play until they would pass out on the floor. Every year, they woke to the sounds of Matron getting them into trouble, shouting at them for missing breakfast, or for not looking after themselves, or for having an unauthorised sleepover.
It wasn't a bad way to be woken. He'd had worse.
Because this was, in Damian's opinion, by far the worst way to be woken by a country mile.
His stomach already filled in dread before he had even reached the common room, somehow knowing what he was about to see.
In front of everyone.
The gunmetal grey tone of the suit stood out to Damian, because somehow, he had a memory of Jeeves telling him that Donovan considered that his best suit.
Damian steeled himself as he watched two police officers lead Donovan into what was clearly an armoured vehicle, as a broadcaster spoke over the top in a sombre tone.
"Now for the main story this morning. Donovan Desmond, the long-admired leader of the National Unity Party, has been arrested this morning following allegations of improper use of party funding, including the funding of top secret human experimentation projects. Records show that dozens of children were kept as test subjects, and were subjected to hundreds of cruel experiments. According to the material shared to the courts, children of all ages were experimented on, including some as young as two years old."
The air in the common room shifted, and it was like every person had gasped at once, sucking all of the air out of it.
It constricted his chest, and Damian couldn't even close his eyes to forget the images in front of him.
This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.
"In a covert, coordinated strike against our government, and against the officials leading at the top, it appears that copies of these documents have arrived on the doorstep of every court in Ostania. Not only that, but the CEO's of Ostania's three biggest newspapers have reported various break-ins at sites across the country, with anonymous activists changing the first page story, only hours before the delivery vans took the newspapers to their designated households.
"This unexpected development has sent shockwaves through both political and social circles, as the extent of Desmond's alleged role and the ethical implications of the experiments continue to be unveiled."
The camera cut from the newscaster and went to a live journalist on the scene.
Damian took a sharp breath and immediately, every head in the room turned to him
He didn't want to watch the rest of it, but he did. He needed to see it happen.
"Mr Donovan Desmond - can you tell us any more about the allegations? Are they true? Any word from your -"
'Mr', not 'Lord'.
Dozens of microphones pushed their way into Donovan Desmond's face, and Donovan blinked slowly as what looked like a hundred thousand-watt light bulbs flashed at overlapping intervals. Surely it was blinding him, but he did not look even slightly dazed. Perhaps years in the political spotlight had already desensitised him to the relentless cameras.
An excruciating second passed where Donovan stared into the camera, and sweat prickled on Damian's neck. What did his father have to say about all this? Was he going to say anything at all? He knew how lawyers normally advised against such things, and one of the few pieces of advice he had ever gotten from his father was when he was just nine years old: to always say 'no comment' to the press. No matter what.
Donovan kept his gaze into the camera, and the corner of his lips twitched into a malevolent smile.
"Is this what you wanted, my dear?"
It was all he said before a hand landed on his shoulder and pushed him into the car, while the shouts of the paparazzi reached a deafening crescendo through the microphones. Damian couldn't make out a single word that was said after that.
Shortly afterwards, the picture cut back to the news anchor, reading the rest of the story from their cues.
Bile rose in his throat, and Damian honestly thought he was going to be sick.
Anya pinched her lips together as she saw everything unfolding on screen. Behind her, Yor nursed a large glass of water, and massaged her temples, but she shortly moved to sit down with Anya on the sofa. Yor put her hand on her daughter's shoulder in attempted reassurance.
Cut to a police officer putting handcuffs on Donovan's wrists, and leading him away from the camera.
"Donovan Desmond - can you tell us any more about the allegations? Are they true? Any word from your -"
Donovan looked directly into the camera.
"Is this what you wanted, my dear?" he sneered, before being pushed into the entrance of a car.
His words punched her in the chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.
Hello, my dear.
Without a doubt, without knowing anything else, Anya immediately knew that he was speaking to her . When they spoke, all he did was taunt her. He asked her if she could protect him, and she wanted to say 'yes'. She really did. But deep down she knew that he would only get hurt, and that there was nothing she could do to stop it. Donovan's fate was written. It was inevitable.
Looking at the story in front of her, Anya knew that Donovan was right, because how was this protecting Damian?
You are just like the other parasites of society. Using my son as a pawn in your game.
Oh, that stung, for reasons that she didn't ever want to admit out loud. Clearly, he thought that he had won, but Anya couldn't let herself give him that final victory, even if they appeared to be fighting different battles.
Tears rolled down her cheek.
"Poor Damian," she whispered. "I have to call him, I have to help him-"
"He might want some space," started Yor, but Anya shook her head, knowing that she needed to talk to him no matter what, and she retreated to her room.
She didn't know what to do. She stared at her phone lying on her desk, picked it up before she could talk herself out of it.
Do you want to call?
She typed, before clicking it shut. Something dark sank into her chest.
He didn't reply.
Becky watched what was unfolding before her with wide, worried eyes.
"The released documents and front-page story have described Donovan Desmond's financial contributions to the human experimentation project in great detail, to the extent that officials have been forced to take action and initiate a lawsuit on behalf of the public."
Ten minutes earlier, Martha had woken her from her sleep, careful not to disturb the others in the house before her mistress would wake naturally.
"Miss, I think you need to see this."
Becky got up groggily, and made her way over to one of the drawing rooms, where they had a TV playing the morning news.
At first, Becky could not believe what she was seeing. Then, when the image before her became clearer, and she managed to clear more of the sleep from her eyes, she began to feel truly sick.
Tears sprung into her eyes, and without quite meaning to, she reached for Martha's hand.
"Oh goodness…"
She was thinking of Damian. About how it must feel to be at the centre of something so incredibly awful and out of his control. And she thought of Anya, who would no doubt be standing by Damian's side throughout it all.
"In a statement issued today, Desmond's lawyer vehemently denied the allegations, describing them as "unfounded and misleading." The lawyer emphasised that Desmond is prepared to cooperate fully with the legal process to prove his innocence and restore his reputation.
"In addition to the release of numerous documents to both courthouses and newspapers across the country, a list of names has also been released which details the names of SSS officials involved in the cover-up of the project. Protesters have taken to the streets in a public outcry of anger for this dangerous and unethical turn of events. Cathy Carstairs is live on the scene. Can you hear us, Cathy?"
A professional-looking woman holding a microphone, and in the background were dozens and dozens of protesters with signs.
Becky recognised the background as the government office.
"Thank you, Mark. As you can see, behind me I have a gathering of very enthusiastic and passionate protestors. Many people have signs, but it appears that everyone is presenting a united front on the issue."
The camera panned to some of the signs as she spoke:
Say NO to NUP!
Protect the children NOW!
Donovan Desmond is going DOWN!
DON'T TAKE MY MONEY FOR TAXES YOU PIECE OF %!$£!
Some of the words were blurred out, but Becky could guess what they said.
Two seconds later, the implications of what she was seeing hit her in full force.
Human experimentations on children. Subjected to hundreds of the most torturous procedures imaginable.
Before that, I was Test Subject 007.
Becky raised a hand to her mouth.
"Oh, Anya," she breathed again, and tears ran down her cheeks as the pieces started to fit horrifyingly close together. "You can't be serious…"
"As Mr Desmond is detained by police, he leaves behind a wife and two children to grapple with the aftershock of this unprecedented tragedy. Demetrius Desmond, thirty years old, is at the centre of the media storm alongside his father, given his rise in politics, following in his father's footsteps. Demetrius faces intense media speculation about his connection to his father's alleged actions, while Damian Desmond is in his final year at school, only just entering adulthood amidst the tumultuous circumstances that surround his family."
"Boss…" said Ewen quietly. "I thought they can't mention people's name or names of the family on broadcast."
"Yeah!" Ewen joined in. "Surely this is against the law or something right? This is going to blow up!"
"I'm eighteen," said Damian, and a wave of horror went through him. "I'm legally an adult. They're allowed to share this information."
Both Ewen's and Emile's jaws dropped.
"WHAT?"
Ewen fumbled with something to argue with. "But - you're still a student!"
"Of a prestigious academy!" Emile joined in.
"It doesn't matter," Damian's mouth went dry as he said it. "I'm eighteen. So in the eyes of the press, I'm fair game."
His hand shook, and for a terrible moment, he thought he was going to be sick.
No, he really thought he was going to be sick.
Everyone knows , the voice screamed in his head.
He didn't know what to do, because for once, the anxious voice in his head was right.
All the newspapers. All the channels. His father's face was on every single one of them.
And so was Demetrius. Photos of Demetrius showed - ones where he was indeed standing behind their father, at press conferences, and when they were travelling between meetings. Damian had never been photographed next to his father at public events, so he was lucky enough to escape the scrutiny in that regard, but it wouldn't be hard to access his school photos if the press really became that desperate.
Oh god. Damian's hand shook even more. Everyone knows. Everyone in the entire country saw his father being arrested live on television, read the articles and documents that had been published in the newspapers and released to the courts.
Everything. Everywhere.
Which meant that not only did the entire country know (and he wouldn't be surprised if it was published internationally), but his friends knew. His classmates. His teachers.
Everyone at school would know about his father's deed, and no doubt all would wonder about Damian's own proximity to it all. Half of his class had been shadowing their parents for years. Did they think that he would be the same? How does anyone come back from something like that?
Even worse, none of them knew that it would all affect Anya too, not just him. None of them had any idea that he would never do anything like this to hurt a person, especially because someone he loved had already been hurt by the Project. He would do anything to protect her and make sure that she would never be targeted again.
Damian closed his eyes. I'm not ready for this.
But the world did not care that he was not ready. It was far too late. It had already happened - and there was nothing that he could do to stop the tide of information from swallowing everything in his life. Damian's world just had an earthquake, and his father was the epicentre.
There was one clear second of silence when the broadcast ended. The next segment of airtime had started, but no one paid attention to it.
The sound of a phone ringing broke the silence, and then suddenly, all at the same time, a cacophony of shrill rings pierced the air as every phone in the vicinity rang with all-encompassing urgency.
Damian stood entirely still as people flurried around him to answer the phones. Phones in the students' rooms, the phones in the Matron's and Housemaster's offices, even the phone in the common room.
Emile reached it first.
"Elman speaking," he spoke quickly into the receiver, and then glanced at Damian worriedly. "Er, sorry. Don't know anything. Bye." And then he slammed the receiver down.
"Who was that?" Damian couldn't help but ask, and Emile looked guilty.
"Er.. press."
Damian rolled his eyes. "Figures they would try and get unsuspecting statements from pupils."
Ewen and Emile exchanged a glance.
"Also…" Ewen started.
"Parents," said Emile.
Damian blinked in confusion. "Eh?"
Emile looked shifty. "My mother called just before it aired. She got the papers first thing."
"Oh."
"Mine too," Ewen admitted, and winced. "I think their butler saw it first and obviously you're our friend so…
"They called us pretty much straight away." Emile finished.
Damian nodded distantly. "Right."
Tension weighed in the air, filling it with an invisible fog that burned Damian's eyes and choked him. Even worse, Ewen and Emile could sense it too, and they shared a worried glance that only made Damian feel more on edge.
"Listen, Boss…" said Ewen, and he sighed in such a resigned way that Damian's hairs stood on end.
Please don't , he found himself silently begging. He had no idea what Ewen wanted to say, but there was no world in which it was a good thing.
" Do you know anything?" said Ewen cautiously, and Damian jumped.
"About… my father?" Damian looked at them in surprise. Now they wanted answers, too?
His father's voice entered his mind. You cannot ever truly trust your friends.
Something gnawed inside his chest. He couldn't afford to think that his father could be right, but at the same time, he had known Emile and Ewen since before the beginning of school. He knew them better than his own family.
They knew him better than his own family. They would believe him. They would know that he had nothing to do with it… right?
Damian stayed very, very still as he examined them both. His brothers, with whom he had been through so much, both looked at him with open curiosity. They heard the news, they had been contacted by their parents, and still they stayed with him, wanting to hear the truth from him for themselves. That had to count for something, right?
Damian sighed, and his shoulders sank.
"I didn't know," he confessed quietly. "Until last week."
Damian didn't even have time to read their reactions before he immediately jumped to defend himself.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell either of you. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want you to - to see me differently, I didn't want anything to change - I didn't want - this -" he took another deep breath. "But I had no part in any of it - I swear!"
"We know, Boss," said Ewen calmly.
"We know what your dad's like," Emile added.
"Yeah," Damian tried to loosen his shoulders.
They did know. They had seen him through the years. They saw him after the Imperial Scholar's ceremony.
Once again, Damian tried to shake that memory out of his mind, and tears stung his eyes.
"You're going to have to be really careful," said Ewen. "The papers are really out to get your dad. They might come for you, too."
"But - you both know what my parents are like," Damian tried to hang on desperately to that thought. He couldn't believe this. Did people really believe that he would have anything to do with experimenting on humans - because of his father? "You know neither of them have spoken to me in years."
"We know," they both sighed.
A silence fell over the boys.
The darkness twisted up in Damian's gut.
"I can't deal with this," he sighed, and he rushed to his room to grab his coat. "I'm going for a walk."
"Wait, Boss - the segment's not over yet-"
But Damian ignored his friends and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He kept his head down as he left through the main entrance of Cecile Hall, coming into the main courtyard of Eden College.
It was far too quiet. Only a few hours past the crack of dawn, and there was noone outside the buildings. Presumably all still glued to the television, watching the drama and scandal of his life unfold. Damian sighed, watching his breath in the air, chose a random direction, and started walking.
He kept his head down while he walked. One foot in front of the other, he did his best to keep focused just on the simple task of walking, and all the while, his mind buzzed with so many thoughts that it was unbearable. It was safer to lock everything away for the time being, behind a cage, so that he didn't have to look at anything, or even think about it.
He just needed some time to himself to process things. He needed a moment to collect himself. He needed peace. He needed space. He needed -
A flash in his eyes.
Damian raised his hand to shield his eyes, but it was too late as what felt like hundreds of flashbulbs had gone off at once.
He peered between his shadowed fingers, horrified to see the dozens of paparazzi pressed up against the iron gate of the school. The one thing separating him from their horde.
"Damian Desmond!" Several paparazzi called out his name at once, and several microphones were thrust into his face through the bars of the gate, journalists doing their best to press through it with all their might.
"Do you have any comment on your father's arrest-"
"Were you involved in the project that experimented on-"
"Did you ever shadow your father's work in-"
Damian stepped away, sweat beading from his forehead.
"Er-" said Damian, completely frozen.
And somehow, one question managed to pierce through the cacophony, and shake Damian to his core:
"What are your next steps as the new successor of the Desmond Group?"
Damian choked on his breath. "I - what? "
Damian literally felt like a deer caught in headlights. For once, he understood that metaphor from the core of his being, because he wasn't just caught in them. He was trapped. The pavement beneath him had turned to glue, sucking his legs to the ground with such force that Damian couldn't picture how he could ever escape. Flashes of bright lights dazed him over and over, and Damian couldn't help but remember the image of those clinical white lights, relentlessly boring into his skull.
He was almost back there. White light imprinted on his vision, on the back of his retinas, and no matter how many times he blinked, it was inescapable, it was blinding, it was -
A stern voice from behind him.
"May I remind you all that this is a school property, and that our authority reserves the right to prosecute trespassers."
Damian spun round to see who had just saved him, and saw Professor Henderson in his running gear, standing tall. His monocle reflected the flashing lights of the journalists' cameras, and Damian wondered how on earth he could keep his eyes open from the visual assault.
"In this difficult time," he emphasised the word, as if to remind the journalists that it was, indeed, a difficult time, "we respectfully ask for privacy for all of our students."
He gave a stern glare to the camera-wielding journalists through his monocle. "Once again, anyone found breaching the Eden College confidentiality clause, or trespassing, will be prosecuted swiftly by our lawyers."
As if to punctuate his speech, Professor Henderson laid his hand on Damian's shoulder, and guided him away.
Damian felt dazed as Henderson pressed a firm hand on his shoulders, miraculously pushing him forward, and he briefly tried to look back at the horde of cameras, before Henderson brought his attention back.
"Do not say a word," said Henderson quietly, almost out of the corner of his mouth. All the while he kept his gaze straight, holding himself from looking back at the journalists as Damian did.
"Journalists have quite a nasty habit of twisting one's words. Any time that you see them in or around school property, you report to a member of staff immediately. Is that understood?"
Damian nodded quickly, but he couldn't say anything. His mouth had completely dried up - partly from the shock of being ambushed by flashing cameras and overwhelming, invasive questions, and also because of the sheer wave of gratitude that rushed through him.
They walked on in silence, and once they turned the corner of the school, the clicking noises of cameras faded.
Damian thought back to the words of the journalists, turning them over in his mind.
What are your next steps as the new successor -
It couldn't be possible. It had to be some sort of mistake.
But…
Demetrius had been carrying… something. An envelope, the kind that usually held important documents. And he had seen some of the key shareholders at the Imperial Ball - he was even assigned to talk to a few of them.
That couldn't be part of the reason that his father was there… could it?
And why name him heir? Why now? If Demetrius had been shadowing him through the years, it made more sense for his brother to retain that title, but there must be some reason that his father had decided to change that.
Perhaps if Demetrius had misstepped, or made a mistake, or…
No. That was unlikely. Demetrius did not make mistakes - he was perfect, the model student and ideal son that his father had always wanted.
So why…
It didn't make sense to remove Demetrius as heir, unless…
Damian felt like a rubber band had been wound tight around his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs.
Did Donovan… did his father… know?
Damian blinked.
He was wearing his best suit.
He had to have known. There was no other explanation. He'd had enough time to arrange that all the assets be transferred into Damian's name, likely because it was the only way to protect them from being seized by the courts. It wasn't because he wanted Damian to be the heir - it was because he knew that Demetrius worked too closely with Donovan to be trusted, and Damian was the only other option. He was the second choice.
But if he knew that his time was up - why didn't he run? He could have used the time to arrange an escape, and shift the assets into offshore accounts, out of Ostanian jurisdiction.
What was his father thinking? Would Demetrius know?
Damian distantly noted that Professor Henderson was not taking him straight back to Cecile Hall. Instead, he seemed intent on walking with him in quiet companionship, giving Damian both the peace and quiet that he needed, and also the protective presence required to shoo away stray journalists.
"Thank you," said Damian after a while, once his chest had stopped constricting so tightly.
Professor Henderson seemed taken aback, and he looked sharply at Damian. "Whatever for?"
"I -" Damian didn't know how to explain himself. "I don't know what happened back there."
Damian tried to think back to it. He was walking out of the dorm, not sure where he was going, not even paying attention to his surroundings, and suddenly he was ambushed, and he couldn't even do a single thing to escape.
"I just… froze," he said, the surprise prominent on his face.
Professor Henderson's eyes softened, and he gave Damian a kind look. He smoothed his features carefully before he spoke once more.
"If I can offer any reassurance, it is that scandals do have a habit of dying down after some time."
Damian nodded distantly, not quite taking his words in, but appreciating him all the same. He couldn't feel anything at all, because everything was far too much for his system to handle. It just couldn't be real. There was no way that all of this was real.
"However," Professor Henderson added, looking a little apologetic. "Now that it is the end of the school term, I'm afraid that you won't be able to take refuge behind the school walls for long. Is there a safe place that you can go to?"
"A safe… place?" Damian mindlessly repeated.
Professor Henderson nodded. "I can only imagine how stressful this must be for you. It is important for you to be somewhere where you can feel supported, and if things get… difficult for you once again," he emphasised the same word, maybe feeling a bit embarrassed, "you could be in a better position to hold your ground."
Damian looked down pensively. He honestly had no idea what he could do. Feeling safe just didn't feel like an option at that moment in time.
Professor Henderson once again sensed that Damian needed some quiet time to reflect, and gave him just that, while also keeping a subtle eye out for anyone who would try to intercept Damian's were early risers at the school, and of course because it was the end of term, chauffeurs started to arrive to pick up some of the boarding students to take them home. Damian could vaguely feel some of their eyes on his back, but with Professor Henderson by his side, they did not interrupt them. No-one dared to interrupt an authoritative presence, especially when he was escorting the son of Donovan Desmond around the school.
When Damian did eventually make it back to Cecile Hall dorms, marginally less stressed than he was during the broadcast, he did not even remove his shoes, jacket or scarf before he strode up to the first phone he could see.
Since the earth-shattering broadcast that morning, the common room had thankfully mostly emptied out, with only a few people scattered about, either watching the rest of the programs, or reading in the corner. Damian guessed that they wouldn't be collected to go home until later in the day.
Damian dialled a number, and Jeeves answered on the first ring.
"Desmond residence."
"Is Fa - Demetrius there?" said Damian immediately. He needed answers and he needed them now , otherwise he felt like he was going to explode.
"Ah," said Jeeves apologetically, and already Damian's hopes sank through the floor. "I take it you have not seen the news?"
"Uh-" said Damian, thinking back to the news and whether or not it mentioned Demetrius. "I think I saw most of it." Did he miss something?
"I'm afraid Master Demetrius has been taken in for questioning."
Well shit .
"Oh," said Damian, now unsure what to do next. He needed to let everything out, and somehow Demetrius seemed to be the only person in the world that understood what was happening, that Damian would actually be able to talk to, but if he was taken in for questioning by the police - who was left? Who could Damian turn to now?
Anger and confusion had been building in him at an exponential rate, but without having an outlet to release it, the thoughts rattled around inside him with nowhere to go. The pit in his stomach became denser, like a pressure cooker waiting to explode. It would not take much to push him over the edge.
"Well-" Damian tried again, but he was completely stuck. He doubted that Jeeves would have the answers that he was looking for, but he had no idea where else to go, because how many people knew that Demetrius was a telepath? How many people knew the truth of what his father was up to?
"If I may, Lord Desmond," said Jeeves quietly. "With the - er - changes in the line of succession, you would need to attend to the residence."
"Don't - don't call me that -" Damian choked on the words.
Lord Desmond was a title that had never belonged to him, and would never belong to him. It was his father's. It was his brother's. It wasn't right .
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Damian rubbed his eyes.
"Just call me Damian, please. Or something else. Anything else," Damian waved his hand in front of him for emphasis, forgetting for a second that Jeeves could not see him from the other end of the line. "And what do you mean 'attend to the residence'?"
A brief silence, as Jeeves absorbed the information.
"Very well… sir," he eventually decided on, and a shiver of revulsion went through Damian's spine.
Well. It wasn't the worst title. Marginally better than something that belonged wholly to his father.
Jeeves continued: "With your father unavailable, and your brother no longer the heir to the estate, you are now responsible for the Desmond name."
The Desmond name.
It was all he ever wanted at some point. It was a symbol of his father's recognition, something that he had strived for, for longer than he could remember. Instead, at Jeeves' words, Damian was filled with nauseating horror.
He wanted to say so many things:
I don't think I can do this.
You've got the wrong person.
There must be some kind of mistake.
But even Damian had more sense than to say any of those things out loud. As much as it caused him pain, Damian was a legal adult - which meant that something like this - being given a responsibility that was entirely beyond his grasp - was terrifyingly possible. And real.
"You must come to the residence so that you can attend the-"
Damian stopped listening as something else occurred to him.
If Demetrius was truly telepathic…
… then he couldn't go home.
Not again.
Not ever.
Not as long as Demetrius could read minds.
And for the first time, Damian truly understood Dr Forger's worry about him knowing the truth about all of them.
If he went home, what would stop Demetrius from seeing everything in his mind? What would stop Demetrius from figuring out all of the Forger's identities? What would stop him from reporting them? Getting them arrested by the SSS?
Damian tried to control his breathing, to make sure that the sound of his realisation didn't come across on the phone.
He had to protect the Forger's secrets. And if that meant avoiding his brother from now on…
"I'm not coming home," he said instead, trying to keep his voice even.
"Sir, your mother is very worried."
Damian just about managed to keep his mouth shut before a string of expletives exploded out of him. He doubted that she was worried about him .
Still, he ought to at least pretend to care. From her point of view, her husband had just been arrested. Her eldest son had been taken in by police for questioning. She had no control over the finances at all, because that responsibility was somehow, inexplicably, given to Damian . Begrudgingly, Damian had to admit that there was every possibility that she was actually having a worse day than him.
"How is she?" said Damian through gritted teeth.
"Well," Jeeves sighed like the air had been dragged out of him. "She's-"
As if on cue, there was a crash in the background.
"- not taking it well," Jeeves finished awkwardly.
Damian dragged his hands over his eyes. He didn't have time for this. He couldn't manage his mother's emotions and his own.
"When Demetrius is released, get him to call me," he said, and then as an afterthought added: "I'll be staying with the Forger's."
It was a lie, but Jeeves didn't have to know that.
Damian huffed as he put down the phone, and then stalked to his room.
In the meantime, George Glooman lifted his eyes from his book, watching him walk away with interested eyes.
He looked down at his notes.
Anya Forger = Alien?
George's shoulders slumped in resigned disappointment, and he crossed it out. Three times for good measure.
He had to admit, 'human experiment' made so much more sense.
.
.
.
.
.
Sometimes, I think I must be absolutely insane for writing this story.
I think this chapter is the turning point for the story to become much more serious, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate each and every single one of you for joining me on this journey, for reading and being willing to experience the insanity of this fic with me. It's going to get worse over time - so, in the meantime, I want to thank you in advance for your patience. I promise that your patience will be well rewarded with equally insane payoff.
I am possessed by this story and I wont rest until I have delivered it to you - all I ask is in return is for you to hang in there, and to trust the process!
Next chapter Wednesday!
We are going to see whats going on with Loid and Anya - its a slightly quieter chapter (partly to give all of your emotions a break (and my emotions! jesus)) but it is also necessary and important.
Take care of yourselves, guys. Drink water, unclench your jaw, bring your shoulders down. Love you all 💖