Chapter Twenty-Four
—
Damian scowled at the floor as the driver placed his bags just inside the entrance of the suite and closed the door when he departed. He'd refused to cry in his presence, but now, alone, he felt the burning sting gathering in the corners of his eyes and he blinked furiously. It hurt a little in his throat, like he'd swallowed something too big and it had gotten stuck.
He wasn't supposed to be back here. Hopes had lifted off the ground like a baby bird taking flight for the first time when he was with the Forgers, when he thought they could protect all of them and he was living in that apartment for that very short time. The fear of. . .what his father could do with him, use him for, had set again in his bones. The things Demetrius had told him. . . he didn't. . .he didn't want to experience what Demetrius had experienced. Was that a possibility? Their father had done it to Demetrius, why not Damian?
The baby bird was dead.
When the boy deigned to scan the room, it was with a sniffle and a quiet sob masked with seething contempt, and with no little amount of frustration burning like a fire in his chest, using up the oxygen.
This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be safe. With the Forgers. Hiding away until Donovan wasn't a problem anymore.
Interpreting emotions as anger was natural for Damian and he didn't know how else to feel that didn't make him feel vulnerable, which made him more angry anyway.
He took that anger as he grabbed his bag's handle and let it drag against the floor behind him, throwing it unceremoniously into his room with athudthat should have felt satisfying, but didn't. This room should have remained empty. Neither he or his bags were supposed to come back for a while yet. He proceeded to fling open his friends' doors with an aggression that might've scared Ewen and Emile if they were there.
They weren't. They must be finishing up with breakfast by now.
His chest shuddered once as he inhaled wetly, shoving down the disappointment of his friends' absences.
It was fine. He'd see them in class.
Damian bitterly retrieved his schoolbag from his room and stepped out into the hallway.
It was strange, making his way out without his friends to accompany him.Everythingwas strange. Everything was wrong. He wasn't waking up in the dorm and getting ready for the day with Ewen and Emile, he wasn't eating breakfast with them, he wasn't even meeting Forger at the bus.
He shouldn't have left her at the house. Was she okay? Nothing would happen to her while he was gone, right? Dread and anxiety curled tightly in his gut at the thought. When would he see her again? How long would she stay there? How long 'til he could visit home to make sure she was alright? He didn't like the idea at all that she was left there with his father, but if Damian had made a scene or insisted he stay home. . .only bad things could come of it.
Hopefully, she was okay.
Damian hated this. The worry and the stress and the waiting for somethingbad to happen. There had been a chance things would be better before the Forger's got hurt. He had even liked staying with them, they were warm and comforting. Mrs. Forger made him feel safe as much as she terrified him, and Mr. Forger was reassuring and confident that he could take care of them. But then. . .
Now they were gone and Damian didn't know what to do—
He growled fiercely at the bubbling emotions threatening to consume him.
He was just so angry.
-—-
Something was wrong.
Again.
It was a small, un-worrying suspicion at first when Damian failed to show up for Anya's bus and Ewen and Emile didn't know why. It was a slightly bigger, edging-on-real-worry when Anya didn't come off the bus and Damianstillhadn't showed. And it was a solid, anxious paranoia when Damian trudged into class looking like he might shove a pencil in someone's eye if he wasn't so tired.
Anya didn't miss school. Not unless there was a good reason for it and those reasons were usually less than ideal situations that tended to be hazardous for her health.
Which Damian seemed to be involved in lately.
"Desmond." He didn't give her the funny look she'd expected for stopping him by his sleeve, and instead stared down at her where she sat at her desk with that same angry tiredness. "What's going on? Have you heard from Anya?"
His face did a strange thing then, his careful scowl twitching and breaking into something too distressed, vulnerable, for Becky's liking. But then it was gone, his scowl deepening if that was possible, and he avoided the question entirely to make his way to his seat.
Class was long. Becky squirmed impatiently for the ticking clock to finish the hour, anxiety building each time Becky looked beside her to find Anya not there. The teacher droned on forever, failing again and again to keep Becky's attention as the image of Damian's face flicked through on a loop.
It had to be nothing. It had to be. Becky couldn't deal with Anya disappearing for another six weeks. Wondering if she was okay, or hurt, or whatever had happened to her.
No, no, no, she couldn't do this to herself. She was jumping to conclusions, Anya was fine, she was fine, she was fine. It was normal to skip school sometimes. It was normal to—
Damian's face wasn't normal.
Things ill and uncomfortable began to twist her gut, infecting her heart with palpitations. The looks she gained from her teacher for incessantly tapping her pencil barely registered on her radar.
When lunch came around, Becky set her tray down with a loudclack!Damian, Ewen and Emile startled in their seats.
Becky sat. "What do you know? Spill." She glared at the boy who glared right back. It was missing something, though. The hardness was quite so hard, and his frown deepened when he ducked his head to poke at his food.
"Forger's parents were in an accident." He mumbled.
"What?!" Her accusative attitude melted away in cold dread as Becky and the two stooges shouted in unison, that stupid pit of worry compounding and curling in her stomach. "What kind of accident?! Are they okay? Where's Anya?!"
"They're in the hospital in a coma. Forger is—she's staying at my house." Desmond scowled into his food, implying he wasn't happy with that.
"Wh—a—a coma?! How?! What happened?!"
Damian's scowled somehow deepened evenfurther,as he played with his food. His eyes looked suspiciously wet. ". . .dunno." He mumbled, incidentally becoming the worst liar ever in existence.
"Well—but—" Becky's heart beat unevenly and words were harder to speak cleanly. She didn't know how to confront Damian about the lie right now. All she could think about was Anya. "Why is she atyourhouse?" She tried to keep the volume down even as her voice broke.
"Umm. . ." Desmond looked up from his food. "Her family and I were together when. . .the accident happened." His face twitched, his expression growing increasingly murderous with his next words. "Father decided to host her for now." He growled softly and stabbed at his food.
Becky was left speechless as she processed, quiet and still where she couldn't seem to make herself sit, words strangled in her throat before she could speak them. She didn't know what to make of it all. There was plenty Desmond wasn't saying, she was sure. What had happened to the Forgers?! Mrs. Forger was so strong and Loid was. . .well, he was perfect! This was too much, too, too much. Bad things kept happening to Anya, and Becky was always aware of it too late. Things like this couldn't justkeep happening,could it?
She fiddled anxiously with her fork, watching him, finally settling on something to ask, something she desperately needed to know. "Is she okay?"
Damian paused in his stabbing to glance up and the anger quieted on his face, somewhat, to give Becky a considering look. "Physically, yes, but. . .not really." He mumbled again, back into his food.
Becky worried at her bottom lip and slowly eased into her seat to poke at her salad. That crease in her brow she had lately wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
—
"—pect a light drizzle in the afternoon followed by clear skies. The evening shows a sixty-percent percent chance of heavy rain with Thurs—"
Click.
"—Local ninety-one year old man stuns all by taking fifth in annual marath—
Click.
"—olice have yet to confirm the cause of the explosion and who is responsible. Tenants who reside close to where the explosion took place, claim—
Click.
"—oothes irritated skin and calms inflammation. Phenolux lasts for hours and provides the relief you need. Call XXX-XXXX now and—"
Click.
"—We're gonna get in trouble!"
"Shh! Do you wanna get cau—"
Click.
"—op the gun and put your hands where I can' see em!"
"Let us go or I'll sh—"
Click.
"—an was found dead at the hospital this morning and a boy missing. One witness claims a w—"
Click.
"—tects the enamel and fights plaque like a champ! Max won't be getting any cavities when he uses—"
Click.
"—ore about that. What was going through your mind when you handed down the—"
Click.
"—rophorus vespillo, or Carrion Beetle, feed on the raw flesh of dead animals and fungi. It's home, to the east of the Rocky Mountains, is—"
Click.
"—e don't see you in the public's eye very often. That's quite the feat considering who your fath—"
Click.
"—dd the garlic, salt, and pepper next, along with the all-purpose flour. Now, stir until smooth. Keep the—"
"Wait! Wait! Go back! Wasn't that Demetrius?!" Ewen told Emile. Damian's head snapped up from his homework on the coffee table.
"What?" Damian asked, everything in him stilling.
Click.
"— you decide to come down here, today? It was quite unexpected."
"It is! Boss, I didn't know your brother was going to be on tv!?" Emile exclaimed.
"Um. . .I'm here to talk about my father."
Nerves sparked in Damian's chest and his feet jolted him to standing, dropping his gaped at the screen.
What—?! What was Demetrius doing?! How did he get on tv?!
"This is so cool!" Ewen said.
Damian wasn't so sure about that quite yet. He didn't respond and stared at the black and white image of his brother sitting with the show's host.
"Oh? Well, I'm sure we'd all like to hear. Donovan's political stances and his work are rather well-known, so are you here to talk about his personal life? Not much is known about it."
"Yeah. . .there's a reason—"
Damian blinked and the show was gone, cut out to glitchy static. He and his friends glanced to each in surprise and confusion before turning back to the tv.
"Whaaaat?" Emile whined. "What happened?"
Growing apprehension like a tumour slowly taking over Damian's gut and slithering dread like a slime sticking to his pores and making his skin feel too tight, sank an awful, cresting thought into his brain.
This was Father's doing.
Damian's fingernails dug into the back of his other hand and he watched the screen with bated breath.
What had Demetrius been about to say?! What was happening?! Was it about the lab? His father wouldn't have intervened like this if it was anything good! What would happen to Demetrius!?
It was unheard of for him to appear on tv. Even when he received requests from reporters for interviews about the family, his goals that they expected to be in politics, his impeccable grades, imperial status, and such. After everything Damian had learned, this just didn't seem right. It gave him a bad feeling.
Maybe it really was just a regular malfunction. He really hoped it was.
Damian didn't want to think about how his father might retaliate, either way. Getting Demetrius on air definitely wasn't their father's doing while they were on such bad, unpredictable terms, and was definitely breaking some sort of rule.
Damian's heart hammered steadily, eyes fixated on the screen, waiting for it to come back, to change, to tell him whether Demetrius was alright or not. His friends waited all of two minutes.
Ewen sighed. "It's not coming back, change the channel, Emile."
"No!" Damian snapped to them, lunging for the remote before Emile could touch it. With it firmly in his grasp, Damian anxiously turned back to the tv, ignoring the startled expressions on his friends' faces. They must have said something, but Damian wasn't paying attention. The screen crackled and fizzed, not even showing the "Technical Difficulties"postcard that occasionally popped up on news shows.
Silence and the increasingly distressing buzz of glitchy black and white pixels met Damian's prayers that it would stop. To show him Demetrius. His brother had never done something like this before. Been on tv or in the news. Damian was now realizing howcompletelyhis father had ensured it stay that way and to keep Demetrius out of the media as much as possible.
"Welcome back, Ostania,"
Damian blinked, inhaling sharply and deeply as the sight of his brother reappeared in the armchair, looking as stoic as ever and only slightly ruffled. Not even, really. A few strands of hair were out of place, though not messily. It lay just so un-uniform enough that one could say it had been styled that way, but Damian knew better. It had beenperfect-perfect before the show cut out.
Something had happened. But Demetrius was okay, he was okay, he was there.
"We apologize for the disruption, there were some technical difficulties, but we're nothing if not persistent. We're here again with Demetrius, and we were talking about your father, I believe."The lady turned to Damian's brother who nodded."We hear a lot about politics and world-views from Mr. Desmond, but really, there's so much we don't know about him."Sally casually rested her chin on her fingers, emitting a disposition of friendly interest as if she and Demetrius were long time friends."So, Demetrius, are there any skeletons hidden in your father's closet?"
"No. Most of them are in the ground."
Damian's jaw went slack, feeling to be in the same position as Sally when she startled slightly and sat straighter.
"What?" Damian's friends said. "Boss, what is he talking about?" Damian managed to dumbly shake his head a bit for his heads, though he couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen.
"I'm sorry. . .what?"The lady said.
"Hm?"
"They're in the ground?"
"Yes?"
"You mean. . .family members that have passed?"Sally obviously hoped it was true. Damian watched wide-eyed, not sure what was happening, absorbed by the conversation.
"Oh. Them too, I guess."
Damian exhaled sharply, one hand gripping his hair. What was that even supposed to mean?!
"Uhh. . .what do you mean by that?"
"You asked about my father's skeletons."
"Yes, but—"Sally sent a glance to someone off-screen"I meant figuratively."
"Right."
"So. . .you were speaking figuratively as well?"
"No."
Damian's heart thudded, feeling sick. Demetrius was talking about the lab kids, wasn't he? Damian tried not to think about the things his brother had told him too much, such as all the deaths he'd alluded to. He couldn't believe he was saying these thingson air.
"I see. . . "The lady said somewhat uncertainly. "Is that what you came to speak about?"
"No. . . um. . ."Demetrius shifted to interlace his fingers together and rest an elbow on his chair-arm. "Or. . . well, sort of, I guess. My father has a lot of secrets and that's one of em', but I probably don't know the half of it. The ones I do know, he doesn't like me sharing."He glanced to something Damian couldn't see.
Damian tensed up, alarmed. What was. . .what was Demetrius doing?! Father was going to be so angry!
"Oh. . .and what doesn't he want you to share?"
Damian slowly turned his head a little side to side in horror as he realized where Demetrius was going with this, wishing Demetrius could see him. Wishing he could tell him to stop before he made everything so much worse for himself.
". . .Boss?" His friends asked quietly, seeming to sense that something was very, very wrong.
"Um. . ."
No, no, no, don't do it, don't do it, what was Demetrius doing?!
"He's involved with illegal institutions that conduct. . .um. . ."Demetrius' voice gradually quieted. Damian's heart beat harder. He stared harder. "human experimentation. . ."
"UAH?!"Ewen and Emile made confused, incredulous noises at the screen.
Damian made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, hands clawing down the sides of his face. There was hard thumping against his ribs and his insides ached.
Sally looked just as stunned, but kept her voice steady.". . .And what makes you say that?"She asked quietly."Do you have proof of this? Have you. . .seenthis?"
Demetrius was quiet for a long moment. Damian could do nothing but watch, tense and waiting for him to respond. He wasn't sure he was breathing.
"Yeah. . ."His brother finally answered, more softly than he had spoken yet, and Damian exhaled and inhaled in quick succession."I saw it."
-—-
Sally's face had gone still, frozen in rapt neutrality, doing her darndest to maintain her professionalism. Her thoughts told Demetrius she had half-expected him to say "no". Or to claim that someone had told Demetrius this, or that he was working off of assumptions.
Demetrius swallowed, looking down at his hands to pick underneath his thumbnail.
His brain screamed and railed at him. He couldn't believe he'd just done that. His exterior remained fairly relaxed, but inside, he tried to keep the bile down. His hands shaking were only subtle by how tense he held them. The pressure of his heart pounded into the back of his throat, threatening to break and crack and waver his voice if he spoke.
"Your. . .fathertook you. . .took you toseethis?" Sally's voice pitched faint and high, crumbling her facade of calm.
"Mm." Demetrius hummed, not trusting his voice yet. Sally kept quiet, understanding he was thinking, considering how to inhaled deeply and lifted his head to meet her gaze. He swallowed again, attempting to dissipate the thick wetness that compromised his vocal cords. Was he really going to do this? This was such a bad idea. He was ruining his own life, his anonymity to a degree, the bits of normalcy he had clung to. But he couldn't back out now, it was way too late for that. What was the point of coming this far, of hoping to get his father arrested, if he didn't follow through?
Demetrius propped his arm up to rest the side of his head against his fist and began. "When I was three, my father brought me to a lab—"
Sally's brows rose, flags immediately popping up(besides the obvious ones). Donovan had told anyone who'd asked about Demetrius, that he'd been sent abroad with a nanny. Sally didn't interrupt.
"—out in the middle of nowhere. From what I understand, it's purpose was to enhance a human's natural abilities." It was sort of a lie, but he had to redirect them away from the truth, somewhere. His face twitched, contemplating what he was about to share. Details would be needed. He couldn't gloss over too much of it if he wanted this to work. What did the law consider adequate testimonial to warrant an arrest? Demetrius wished he could have looked it up. That would have been a suspicious thing for the agents to catch him doing in a library. He supposed he could've asked one of his classmates. "They experimented on kids."The younger the better,"is what Dr. Verick said all the time. They theorized that adapting would be easier for children. A lot of it was just prepping and maintenance. Their focus was on the brain and altering it to fit their needs, but it caused other bodily functions to weaken and break down from the strain. So, to compensate, the scientists mutated and enhanced organs and bones to be more robust that could withstand the serums and chemicals that would ultimately boost our brainpower and bodies.
"I believe it is all in preparation to start another war, though I can't be certain." Sally's brows lifted in shock and her mouth opened, but he kept going before she could say anything.
"Not many survived. Especially when a subject is used specifically for hosting said enhanced body parts, and harvested later. I saw them do it once." Demetrius looked down, unseeing, at his hand in his lap, remembering the organ Demetrius had watched one of the doctors pull out of a still living, breathing body in his hand, to implant inside of Demetrius later. He pushed down the bile that rose up at the memories. "They cut a liver right out of a kid to give it to someone else. Then his pancreas. Another one had their intestines removed. They died."
Sally's face was pale, eyes wide in an almost unsettlingly focused way. The reaction was already far more than he had expected, seeing as he was cutting out a lot. So Demetrius kept going. The attack had unexpectedly gifted him their rather easy belief and he wasn't going to waste it. He had never spoken about this out loud before. Never told anyone. Thought about it as little as possible, to shove memories down that he didn't think he'd ever be able to speak, to expose the traumatic things to people who might be a little less horrible than his father. Amidst the nauseas panic clenching his heart in a chokehold was the bit of freedom that. . .he could say it now. Maybe this wouldn't happen ever again. Maybe he could prevent it. Speaking it aloud was oddly therapeutic as it was terrifying.
This was personal to him and he didn't like how exposed it made him feel. Why was he still talking? Maybe this was enough.
"When I first arrived at the lab, I met some of the kids and they were generally healthy. Three months later and one of 'em couldn't walk or talk due to brain damage. A couple couldn't remember their own names. The lucky ones ended up on an autopsy table. If you were especially unlucky, you'd survive the prepping and have your skull sawn off so they could poke at your brain."
Sally leaned forward on her desk, her loose jaw tightening as it rested in her hand. She looked disturbed. Green, even. That was good. That was good, wasn't it? Was that a normal response to have? That's definitely what Demetrius needed if he wanted to get out of this unscathed. Which he didn't entirely expect, but at least his father would be arrested. At least Damian and Anya would be safer.
"My father helps to fund the labs and is directly associated with them." Demetrius watched his free hand, picking at his thumbnail again. He blinked, taking a breath that weighed heavy and stifled. He lifted his gaze to meet Sally's. ". . .Do you think this is enough to get him convicted?" He asked cautiously.
There was no response at first. Sally's thoughts were silent. Her wide eyes bore into him like she might change the reality of everything he'd said if she just stared hard enough. It made Demetrius anxious and his gaze flicked here and there as he waited.
After a moment had passed, her hand twisted in place so her thumb hooked under her chin.
"Demetrius. . ." She said softly, opting to ignore his question. "Are you implying that. . .you're one of the subjects?"
Demetrius' heart skipped. He focused on breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, the blood pumping steady and quick through his veins, and not the multitude of eyes on him, the cameras, the lights—they were too bright, too illuminating, he wanted to hide from them—the swarm of indistinguishable thoughts barraging him, or the—
Okay, he was focused on them a little.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
". . ."
". . .was that unclear?"
Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, because Sally suddenly wasn't in her chair anymore and her heels clipped steady and loud as she rushed off the set. Several others followed suit, fleeing the room. Demetrius stalled and blinked, slowly taking his weight off the back of the chair as Sally disappeared.
Demetrius had debated a lot with himself if he should out himself like this. It was stupid and reckless and made himself a target, not to mention made his skin crawl. But he was Donovan's son, and if he could make his father's situation even worse with this admission, it would be worth it. He hoped. He began to regret it the instant it left his lips, spilling the words into existence, to the public, when the flight response he got back made his insides coil tightly in apprehension.
He stared at the spot Sally had left his sights, flummoxed.
. . .
. . .
The silence was deafening. There was a certain type of creeping eeriness that filled in the absence of conversation as he sat there, waiting for her to come back, explain what had just happened. Without her, the space felt stifled and pressured with the couple dozen eyes pinning him to his seat, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His temples pulsed and his throat rolled with nausea. He tried to swallow it down and clenched his jaw and hands.
He didn't understand what he'd done wrong. The soft hum of Sally's thoughts somewhere were confusing and fast and gave him a headache to try and decipher.
He felt. . .sadness.
And rage.
Anddisgust.
Demetrius drew in a long, tense breath at the intense emotions flooding from her and the room's occupants and he had to shut them out. Stop listening.
They weren't directed athim.
It gave Demetrius the courage to look at the director who stood speechless in the back. ". . .What happened?"
The man returned his gaze, though seemed at a loss for words. He had a funny look on his face. Demetrius supposed that if he, who could read minds, didn't understand her thoughts, then how could he expect anyone else to?
Sally returned before the director could figure an answer.
She sat down in her seat. The creeping eeriness didn't go away.
"Sorry about that. I needed. . .a moment." Her voice was slightly hoarse and she cleared her throat. She looked a little pale.
Demetrius furrowed his brows and didn't otherwise react.
At least she didn't seemed disgusted with him. She wasn't angry athim.He could tolerate her sadness as long as she was still on his side. Heneededthese people on his side. If they weren't, what did it say about the rest of society?
"I think that's definitely enough to get him arrested. But we'll need real evidence for a conviction."
Demetrius' tongue went dry and his eyes fluttered, his lungs clogging up. His chest grew tighter and he swallowed to prevent an embarrassing noise.
"Do you have something like that?"
Demetrius' heart dropped like a bird shot out of the sky. The proof he had were scars he didn't want to show, telepathy he didn't want to expose, and the labs that the police could search, find said proof, and probably wouldn't share under the weight of his father's money. Was there even evidence of his father's involvement? Donovan was a well-known politician, he wouldn't risk compromising himself by leaving clues.
". . .I know where the labs are. . .but I don't trust the police to be honest with their findings. . ." Giving the locations to the labs had always been part of the plan—the kids there needed rescuing—but proof of Donovan's involvement was a whole other matter.
". . .I see." Sally said quietly and leaned back in her chair, thoughtfully. "Well, it's not unheard of for a reporter to investigate crime scenes personally." She glanced to the cameras. "Hearing this, it would very self-incriminating if the cops denied us access. In fact, I'm sure we can find a judge to ensure their cooperation." Sally answered with prim solemnity, clasping her hands together on the desk. Her voice remained strong, as did her posture.
Demetrius could only stare at her.
"If what you say is true, that would be enough, yes."
. . .
It was. . .enough.
The words danced in his head with a rush of. . .something.His younger self couldn't have dreamed of reaching this point for how much it would hurt when he didn't get it. When the hopes would only be squashed over and over and over again.
He took a deep breath through his nose and managed a short nod, desperately holding himself together so he wouldn't break down crying.
It still had towork.Donovan wasn't arrestedyet,and he was live on tv. Not here, not now.
"I have a few questions if you don't mind."
Demetrius paused. He's said what he'd wanted and he'd planned to leave right after. He was nauseous and emotionally overwhelmed.
He gave a hesitant nod.
"How was your mother involved?" Sally asked. Demetrius blinked.
He hadn't actually considered during all of this that she might be brought up. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't ignore the little part of him that said, wanted, to defend her. And logic. If his mother was condemned, then what would happen to Damian if there was no one left to take care of him? Would he be put in the foster system? Would some other rich person adopt or foster him?
Demetrius swallowed again and cleared his throat. He forced a strength in his voice that didn't match how much he wanted to collapse in on himself. "Mother did what she could for us. She was not excluded from Father's. . .expectations."
"Did he abuse her?" Sally asked gently.
Demetrius sighed, crossing his arms as he sunk back in the chair and thought back. ". . .Not physically. To my knowledge."
"And Damian?"
There was a twinge in Demetrius' jaw as he fought to keep his face straight. He didn't like people asking about Damian. He didn't like his name being spoken on air, nosing into a child's business when it should be free from all that. All of this.
He didn't like people asking about Damian in general. They didn'tknowhim. He wasn'ttheir's.
Demetrius quickly strangled the urge to make a snide remark with the logic that, of course, the public might be concerned if they were concerned about the well-being of children in general. That's all it was. Damian was a child. They'd want to know. Because he was a child. Like they wanted to know about Demetrius even if he wasn't as young. He was still a kid to them. It wasn't personal.
Then they should keep out of it—
"He knew nothing about any of this."
"Knew?" Sally repeated. "So, he knows now?"
Demetrius nodded. "Just recently."
". . .Is that why you decided to speak out now?"
". . .Partially."
"Is there a reason you've kept all this to yourself for so long?" Sally asked without judgement, consciously keeping her tone gentle and professional. Her kid gloves irked Demetrius and knew he'd be even more annoyed if she acted like it was his fault for keeping quiet.
"I have my reasons."
She nodded and Demetrius was grateful she didn't prod.
"Thank you for having me." Demetrius stood without warning.
"Uh—" Sally stood, taken aback. "—Of course—"
"These are the locations." He planted a piece of paper on her desk, and didn't wait for a response. He felt her eyes on him as he strode off set with long, quick strides, having said his piece. He needed out of here, away from the eyes and the cameras and the lights and his classmates whose shocked horror lingered in the back of Demetrius' brain.
The rest of the building was a blur. His instincts took him the route he'd come in through as his focus and iron grip on his composure began to degrade. His lungs burned under a crushing weight as he tried to take deep, measured breaths that did little, and picked out what details he could from eyes thick with water. His stomach turned and pressed upwards.
He was going to sick. He was really going to be sick this time.
And then there was smooth, blessedly cool glass against the pads of his fingers and sunlight searing through unshed tears as he pushed out into fresh air.
Demetrius ran to the side and ducked into an alley, spilling his contents on the ground and trying to ignore the sour taste it left on his tongue. His hand braced against rough brick as he heaved, coughing and crying as he found some relief from the nauseating pressure in the back of his throat.
He'd. . .he'd done it. . .he couldn't believe he'd done it. People knew about his father now. About him. The labs. It was insane, Demetrius was insane to have done that.
It'd been the only thing he could think of that'd had a chance of working. Maybe no one else would have to go through what he went through. He had to remind himself of that, otherwise he'd be haunted by regret and doubts for the rest of his life.However short it might be if the SSS catch up with him.Would they dispose of him for the "security" of the country?
No one else, no one else,no one else.He'd done a good thing, it wasgood.It was worth it.
When he stopped convulsing, he took stuttering breaths and rested his head against the wall in front of him, watching one hand as it shook violently.
He sobbed once, letting the hand drop as he tried to take deep breaths.
Where did go now? He couldn't stay in Ostania. The SSS would be after him once they put the pieces together. He needed to fetch Damian. What if Father didn't get arrested even after all this? What if he was and the lab people came for Damian, anyway? Would they care about him?.. .if they could control Demetrius through him, they would. He had no doubt. They were no better than his father. Hopefully that interview and Donovan getting arrested would buy him time to get them out of here. And Anya. Right. He couldn't leave her either. Dang it! He'd have to go by the house to pick her up. Or the station.
Uuugghh!How the heck was he going to pull this off without getting arrested himself or captured!
"Um, Demetrius. . .?" A soft voice called from the entrance to the alley, and Demetrius shoved off the wall to whip his head at the group of stupid, nosey teenagers that apparently didn't catch on that he wanted to be left alone. He'd made quite the hasty retreat.
His face furrowed into a vicious glare his classmates were unaccustomed to as he sniffed and swiped at his face. "What?"He rasped sharply, wishing that they'd, for once, use the few collective brain cells that they shared to make an intelligent decision andleave.
". . .Are you okay. . .? Killian asked timidly with a satisfying amount of quelled confidence.
Demetrius scoffed. "What do you think?" He snarled venomously and spun on his heel to stalk towards the other, open end of the alley. His shoulders heaved with a deep, shaky, annoyed breath that rattled his whole body when he heard them hurrying to catch up.
He surreptitiously watched every shadow and rooftop and corner for SSS agents. How long would it take for them to act? He didn't want to find out. He had to get out of here. Was his father going to send more people after him? Probably.
"Wait! Demet—"
"Go. Away." Demetrius didn't raise his voice, but the intensity was enough to cut Robert off.
"Where are you going?" Violet butted in worriedly. His classmates crowded his space. They made it harder to breathe.
Demetrius passed through an intersection between four buildings, bringing him closer to the end of the alley. "Goaway."Demetrius seethed. He slowed as the end came closer and closer. He didn't want to leave the alley where he had some semblance of privacy and protection. The main street was too exposed. He'd be too easily spotted, out in the open.
His classmates jerked out of the way when Demetrius whirled around and made to walk back to the intersection.
"We're worried for you, Demetrius, talk to us."
He didn't deign to respond any further, stalking single-mindedly for the intersection. He jerked back as Fallon dashed around him to push a finger in his chest.
"You owe me!" She exclaimed, face turned down like she was going to cry. "For the interview!"
Demetrius blinked down at her before looking away and wiping at his eyes again. Stupid things wouldn't stop leaking. "Fine." He relented roughly. He didn't like owing people. "What do you want?" He asked though he knew the answer. He'd debate with her until she asked for something reasonable.
Fallon sniffed, lowering her hand. "I want you to come home with me. Your house isn't safe for you right now, right? You don't have to talk if you don't want, just let us help you."
"No." Demetrius brushed around her to keep walking. "Pick something else." He turned right at the little intersection, traveling behind two buildings. "Preferably something I can do right now."
"What. . .why?!"Fallon asked in distress, keeping up with him.
". . .Are you running away?!" Kira was just behind his shoulder.
"Demetrius, no! We can figure something out!" Killian made his way to his side.
"Quiet down!" Demetrius hissed, looking around, but seeing no one. He couldn't afford to be spotted. Once one agent saw him, either from the SSS or the labs, they'd report his location. He was surprised he hadn't been interrupted again during the interview.
Killian slapped a hand over his mouth and copied him, almost comically.
". . .What happens if those. . .people come for you again?" Violet asked softly.
Demetrius sighed tiredly. It shook more than he liked. ". . .I don't know. . ." He answered just as softly. Their stubbornness was just as strong as his, but there was only one of him. He didn't have the energy to keep fighting with them.
"Go home." Or maybe he did.
"Not on your life." Robert muttered as he looked around, paranoid.
Demetrius stopped and growled frustratedly into his hands. He glared back at them. "You're only slowing me down, you can't help, will you justleave!"
They flinched back as a collective, hurt looks on Killian's and Fallon's faces. They exchanged glances and all shook their heads like they had formed an"Annoy Demetrius as much as possible"club.
Demetrius' face twitched. He didn't know what to think of their insistence to not leave him alone and it burned and flooded his throat.
He snapped back around to keep moving forward. "Don't blame me when you get killed."
"That's a possibility?" Killian squeaked.
Demetrius refrained from responding to let him stew and hopefully decide against this stupid crusade of following him, however unlikely.
Idiots.
They traveled in silence down the alley that stretched for a good ways. Demetrius glanced up often to the roofs. He didn't want to be caught in such a small space. He debated with himself if he should walk out to the main streets after all.
Demetrius inhaled sharply and jumped back from view of a little alley that led out to a main street. His arms reached to drag whoever was near, back with him. The others followed his example.
Demetrius held his breath and pressed against the building at his back, his heart hammering.
"What is it?" Kira whispered.
Demetrius clicked his tongue. "The SSS." He listened to them passing by and their loud thoughts about him and his father.
"Why are we hiding from the SSS?!" Fallon hissed quietly.
"Shouldn't you want their help?!" Robert added.
Demetrius exhaled slowly as the last of them passed and continued down the alley, going by the intersection as quickly as possible so as not to be seen by the main street.
"No." Demetrius muttered absently. He considered escaping by train and thought better of it. He didn't have a car. He wouldn't be able to take a plane.
Crap!What did hedo!He wished he'd thought further ahead, but he'd had to act quickly with few options.
"Are you sure?" Violet asked tentatively. "Maybe they can protect you."
"No." Demetrius repeated.
"Whynot?!"Robert said.
"They'll arrest me. . .or something. . ." Demetrius wasn't exactly sure what they'd do with him and he wasn't particularly keen to find out.
Maybe Demetrius could. . .go to the Forger's place? His father wouldn't expect him to hide out there after it had already been compromised. Just for a couple days. Until he had a plan. Was it too risky? He didn't know where else to go and he couldn't stay with any of his classmates, the search for him would start there. Not to mention he'd need to find a roof to keep over the kids' heads.
No, the Forger's was a bad idea. Donovan(and the labs) were meticulous, he'd check there again, Demetrius couldn't risk it.
". . .What?"Kira prompted. "Why would they arrest you? You didn't do anything wrong?"
Demetrius scoffed. "I don't think that'll stop them."
"But. . ."
There was blissful silence. His classmates couldn't argue back as confidently as Demetrius.
They kept walking.
Demetrius remembered to breathe and was working on calming his heart-rate when they eventually reached the end of the long alleyway. They halted a few metres from it.
. . .
. . .
He still didn't have a plan. He was winging all of this. Should he head straight for the school? There would be people watching Damian, how did Demetrius get around them?! Could he fight them all? What if he misses someone and they call for back-up? What if he isn't stealthy enough and gets caught?! If he doesn't do this right, everything was ruined! Just because his father might get arrested, didn't mean the lab and their goals would fall apart. He was fairly certain Donovan was only deeply involved, not in control of everything they did.
Demetrius regretted that he'd have to leave Dr. and Mrs. Forger behind, but there wasn't much he could do about that. Even if he somehow managed to steal them from the hospital, they'd be without medical care and their condition would only worsen.
Andhowwas he supposed to get Anya out of hishouse?That's where his father was. That's where the cops and the SSS would go. Should Demetrius go there first?! He wouldn't even make it there before the agents as he was on foot, how theheckwas he supposed to do any of this?! He didn't have the time for it all, or the manpower! He was one person against two different forces literally out to get him! He needed aplan!
"Demetrius!"
He startled and his eyes snapped up to Killian's face, flinching back at the grip on his wrist. His hand was pressed to Killian's chest.
"Hey, hey, look at me."
Demetrius didn't notice how erratic his gaze was until Killian said something. He focused on his face.
"Follow me. Inhale."
The chest underneath his hand expanded. He tried to follow. His lungs hurt. His head ached and his eyes burned.
"Hold. . .2. . .3. . .4 . . .exhale."
Demetrius shuddered as he did, gasping for breath until Killian told him to inhale again.
"Hold. . .2. . .3. . .4. . .exhale .. .2 . . .3—it's okay, it's okay, try again, inhale."
Demetrius' head roared with blood and his veins raced with adrenaline. Everything was blurry and gave him a migraine. Something was constricting his throat and it hurt.
"Hey, hey, focus, it's alright. What are five things you can see?"
Demetrius' lashes fluttered as he glanced down at Killian's hand over his wrist. "Your. . .hand." He gasped out.
"Good. What else?"
"Ring." The silver metal shone and glinted even where the alley blocked most direct sunlight.
"Good. Three more." Killian nodded encouragingly.
"You." Demetrius' voice rasped wet as he inhaled, the new oxygen giving way to trembly feelings in his chest he didn't like. "The. . .ground."
Killian nodded again. "One more."
Demetrius' eye fluttered around erratically. "The. . .wall?"
"Good. Good job. Inhale. Hold. . .2...3. . .4. . .exhale. . .2. . .3 . .4. What are four things you can hear?"
"Um. . .your voice. . . m-mine."
"Good, inhale. Hold. Exhale. Good, keep going."
Demetrius swallowed. "Traffic. . . birds."
"And three things you can feel?"
"Your heartbeat." Demetrius said as the world started to settle again. The ground swayed less, his chest felt less like it was being crushed. He inhaled deeply before continuing, unable to lose the stupid waver in his voice. ". . .Your. . .shirt."
Another nod. "Two things—"
Demetrius screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. "No. . .no I don't have time—time for this."
"Okay. . .okay, what do you need?"
Demetrius looked up at Killian's face, drawn into concern and nervousness.
". . .I. . .don't know." Demetrius yanked his hand away to grip at his hair with both.
"Okay, okay, um, first breathe, it's okay, we'll figure it out." Killian reassured. It was stupid, idiotic advice when everything was up in the air, but he'd never. . .had someone talk him through a panic attack before. Not before the Forgers.
"Damian." Demetrius blurted out, the first worry he had over everything. "He's. . .I have to. . .someone'll take him if I don't."
"Okay. Okay. We'll go get Damian." Killian said and Demetrius had to pause at the surety and determination in his tone, even without knowing all that it entailed, or knowing the whole situation. He was just. . .trusting Demetrius that this needed to happen immediately. "What else?"
"Uh. . .um. . I have to. . .there's someone else I have to fetch. It's important."
"So who's going to get Damian, and who's going with Demetrius?" Kira said from somewhere behind him.
"Hey. Hey." Killian said gently and got Demetrius' distracted attention. "I'll go get Damian and I'll take Violet and Fallon with me. You take Robert and Kira, alright."
"No. . .ggnnn!" Demetrius groaned and brushed past Killian, with his hands fisting in his hair again. He spun on them. "You can't justgo!There's people, agents, watching him, and—and the cops will be there, what are you going to do, just—just walk in, grab him, and walk out?!" He knew he was being harsh—he was honestly surprised they were still here after he'd snapped at them so many times—and he felt a little bad for yelling at them when they were trying to help, but—they were being too naive!
"We'll get him out." Killian stated calmly. "Do you trust me?"
Demetrius stared at him, struck mute, and surprised himself when he nodded. Out of the group, he'd have to say he was closest with Killian. He'd always been loyal to a fault and always kept his word, the type to get things done no matter what. It was ridiculous to think that trait could apply to this situation, but. . .well, Demetrius didn't have a lot of options.
"Then let us help."
He sighed and ran his hands over his face. ". . .Okay." He whispered.
Killian's face lifted at the consent, surprised. He nodded. "Okay. So. . ." He looks at the rest of his group. "Should we. . .go now?"
Demetrius nodded and flinched back at the hug Killian threw around him.
"Be careful." There was a pinch in Killian's brow as he pulled back.
Demetrius nodded, flailing to come to terms with his classmates' stubborn involvement.
"Alright. I guess we'll go now?" Killian looked at the others who nodded.
"Wait, are we meeting up afterward?" Violet asked. "How do we get Damian to you?"
"Uh. . .at the park. Where we went kite-flying. . ."
"Okay. We should actually, really go now." Fallon said.
And then they were leaving.
Demetrius watched them head back through the alley from the way they came, breathing shakily, and pressed his hands into his eyes before he started to cry.
In. Out. In. Out.
He spun around to face the alley's end once more, followed by Kira and Robert, to the busy streets and the sunshine lightening the pavement to a lighter shade, and the pigeons alighted on the telephone poles and streetlights.
In. Out. In. Out.
They would get Damian.
How would they through the agents and the cops and the—
In. Out. In. Out.
He should've gone after Damian himself, what was he thinking?!Who would've retrieved Anya?
In. Out. In. Out.
With a hesitant step, he came out from the shadows and into the light, studying the streets, the fastest route back to the Desmond Estate. The foot traffic wasn't too bad as most people were at work and many of the pedestrians were mothers with their children, or other teenagers enjoying their freedom from school.
Demetrius hated his uniform then, the evident gold against black, the telltale sign of which school he belonged to. He cautiously began his way, scanning the people surreptitiously for. . .he didn't know what. Just anyone looking at him, he supposed.
Most didn't spare him a glance, others took one look and didn't take another, unconcerned. Demetrius, Robert, and Kira moved along in wary silence, ready for the first sign of danger, but everything seemed peaceful.
That is, until he looked to his left.
Demetrius froze, muscles locking up mid-stride and inhaling sharply. His wide eyes fluttered, trying to blink, but he couldn't bring himself to, irrationally fearing he'd lose sight of them if he let them close for even a fraction of a second.
Not when he was staring down the SSS agent.
"Thank you for having me."
Damian barely breathed as he watched his brother stand, hands tightly woven together and jaw loose.
"Uh—of course. . ."
"These are the locations."
Demetrius stepped off-screen, the news woman began concluding the segment, and Damian blinked rapidly, dumbly watching as the show continued on. The air in his lungs was stifled, yet uncontrolled. His thoughts rambled and raced, yet was having trouble processing.
The air left Damian in a huff and he sprang to his feet. He spun on his heel to pace brusquely back and forth behind the sofa. Everything was a blur. His blood pulsed in his ears and his hands wrung at his uniform, wondering what this meant, what happened now, andwhy would Demetrius do something so stupid!?
The images of Demetrius' descriptions were stuck in his head. Demetrius had told very little—however explicit it was—of his time at the labs, and Damian wished it had stayed that way. Forger had been there too. . .had she experienced that as well? Why were so many of the lives that surrounded him so messed up?
Emile and Ewen's eyes watched him. He felt them burning through his skull.
Where was Demetrius going? What did Damian do? Should he go look for him? Was Demetrius coming to get him?What was he doing?
"Uhh. . .Boss?" The boys said after an indeterminate amount of time wearing the hardwood floors down. It could have been five minutes, it could have been twenty. He didn't spare them a glance.
"What?"
". . .What's going on?"
Damian couldn't answer, worry and confusion pulling words away from him. What would happen to Demetrius? What would happen to Damian? Would. . . .
Damian halted, eyes going wide. Would Father send someone to fetch him? Would he. . .would he use Damian against Demetrius like that man had used Damian against Anya at the lab?
Shivers and adrenaline shot through him with a sharp blade of ice and he sucked in a deep breath. He ran for his room.
"Boss?" He heard his friends rise from the floor to come after him. "What are you doing?!"
The bag Damian had brought from home was thrown on his bed as he grabbed random clothing from each drawer and stuffed them in. Gripping the bag tight, he brushed past his friends who'd followed him, and rushed into the bathroom. His toiletries received a similar treatment to his clothes, and he closed the bag up and, again, brushed past his friends.
They had questions and were alarmed by his behaviour, but he didn't know how to answer them, how to do anything but circle around the panic planted in his thoughts.
"Damian, where are you going?!"
Damian paused with a hand on the knob of the common room's door, bag slung over his shoulder. "Um. . .nowhere. . ."He said vaguely. He trusted his friends, but he didn't want someone tricking them into divulging his whereabouts.
"What's going on?"
Damian winced and looked away, tapping his fingers against the doorknob. ". . .I don't know. Something bad."
". . .What he said was true, then?"
Damian nodded, scratching at the back of his head, just to give himself something to do. Why lie about it? He thought Demetrius had done something very, very stupid, but he would've done it for a reason. No point in trying to hide something that wasn't Damian's to hide in the first place.
"Well, you can't just. . .leave!"
"Look, I can't stay." Damian gripped the knob tight. "I. . have to go. I'll. . .I'll call you. Then he was out the door and rushing down the hall to the fading sound of his friend's worried voices.
Damian's heart beat fast, almost as fast as that day when he and Forger were kidnapped. He didn't know what he was doing, what Demetrius was doing. All he knew was that he wasn't safe, none of them were, and something bad was going to happen. Wouldn't it? His father wouldn't just sit idly by while Demetrius acted out like this, and Damian could feel it coming like a massive shadow slowly casting over him in darkness, ready to devour him. He couldn'tseeit, but it gave him goosebumps.
And what about Forger? She wasinthe house with him, prime for the. . .blackmailing, or whatever his father would use her for.
He turned a corner and stumbled to a halt with a sharp gasp, nerves sparking electrical pricks all over his body. There was someone guarding the stairs.
Fear took control of his heart and laced lead into his veins. It was one of his father's people. He was dressed like Eden's security guards, but they didn't guard thestairwells.They patrolled the perimeters and watched the front gates, and Damian couldn't match his face to any of the ones he'd seen.
"Can I help you?" The man said. Damian took a careful step back, his hopes to get out and find Demetrius, to protect himself, to get away from his father, draining away and replacing it with cold hollowness and suffocating pressure.
He didn't know what to do if he couldn't get out. There was no other plan, no hopes when he could be watched so easily here. No one with more power than his father that could help him, not with the police in his pocket. Did Demetrius not foresee this when he appeared on tv? Didn't he take Damian into account? He wasn't just. . .going toleavehim here, was he? Demetrius was coming, right?
Damian shook his head numbly at the floor, breaths shuddering softly out of him.
"I suggest you return to your ro—."
Bang!
Damian jolted a foot in the air, looking incredulously at the three heads that had appeared in the open doorway, and glanced down at the now crumpled man on the floor. He could almost see the bump forming on the back of his head.
". . .Oops." Killian muttered with a wince.
"Hey, there he is! I don't know what Demetrius was worried about, this was easy."
"Shh!"
Damian sucked a breath in, hoping to steady his lungs that felt wetter and shakier by the second. "Demetrius sent you?" He asked and was proud that it didn't waver. He shouldn't have doubted Demetrius.
"Yeah, c'mon, kid, we gotta go." Fallon beckoned hurriedly, already turning a bit as if preparing to dash back the way they came.
Damian hiked his bag up and ran.
The door closed behind them. The pounding of feet on the stairs ran like Damian's heart, leaving him breathless and hands trying to will away the nerves and trembling by gripping tight to his bag's straps. There was someone ahead of him and behind. Hands reached for him every time his shorter legs stumbled trying to keep up with the teenagers, though barely registered it with the adrenaline blurring every second together, one step bleeding into another, turning corner after corner.
They hit the ground floor and raced for the exit.
"Where's Demetrius?" Damian huffed. Why couldn't his brother have come for him himself? There was a twist in his heart, thinking about it.
"He said he had to fetch someone else." Robert huffed breathlessly and threw open the dorm's doors, not giving him any time to process that statement.
Damian's eyes widened and his brows scrunched at the sight before him.
Briiiiiiing!
Damian jumped, not even able to look back at why his dorm's fire alarm was suddenly going off as he was pushed further away from the building.
The grounds were full of children, girls and boys and adults and all the staff. There were hundreds of people out here. Damian was rushed unceremoniously through the crowds. The teenagers in their uniforms stuck out like sore thumbs, but the teachers and staff, the people who would care about a young six-year old being taken off grounds without parental consent, were busy counting heads and reassuring the upset ones and had their hands full with far too much to do to notice the group moving at a brisk walk towards the exit gates.
Sweat clung to Damian's collar and made his neck feel icky. One of Demetrius' friends held Damian's hand and he let them because they obviously needed the comfort and Damian had gotten pretty good at holding people's hands(Anya) when they were upset. Otherwise, he would definitely make Violet let go.
Definitely.
His eyes couldn't help but flick up to the roofs of the dorms and the school building that stood a ways away for his father's people. The lab people. Whoever they were.
There was some comfort being in a crowd in public where the agents would have to be careful how they acted.
But what if one of them blew darts and made them all fall asleep and they woke up in a lab? What if they exposed themselves and said the teenagers were kidnapping Damian and were sent to rescue him? No, that wouldn't work if Damian was awake to call them liars and tell the teachers that something was wrong. Mr. Henderson wouldn't stand for one of his students to be taken away by strangers who Damian would claim would hurt him.
He needed to stop thinking about this.
They reached the gate just as the fire engines arrived. Damian and his brother's friends stayed off to the side 'til they'd all driven onto school grounds and slunk through the gate unnoticed.
Damian's heart pounded as they took up running again.
"C'mon!" Killian nearly rammed into a sleek car and fumbled with keys toget the driver's door open and unlock the others. Fallon went to sit with Killian up front, and Violet and Damian clambered into the back.
"Wh—where are we going?" Damian asked as he wasclickedinto a seatbelt. His wild nerves were frayed, but feeling significantly less in danger. There was a new ease to his lungs. Maybe everything would be okay.
"To the park."
Everything was numb.
There was no recollection of how this came to be, of the void consuming anything that could have thought or felt or hear or see, just the loud quiet, pressing around her vague sense of being, like there was the illusion of sound, static, but there was nothing.
The absence of pain was the only thing she was truly aware of, brought on by the faint, negligible sense that she should be thinking about something, worrying, but she never looked at it. The lights had been turned out in her mind, giving reprieve from whatever the pain had been, and that's all that mattered.
It was why, when every now and then, vague sensations like raindrops hitting the canvas of an umbrella pinging dully, went ignored. They tapped at the surface, letting her know they were there, accessing parts of her senses, but ultimately, did not touch her. She didn't acknowledge them, unimportant as they were.
At least, they were supposed to be.
They grew apparent little by little, fighting for space and sometimes jarring enough to tempt her attention. They weaselled in, the impressions of sounds and tugging and feelings of motion, trying to remind her of the pain. She quickly shut it all down again as pressure built out of nowhere in her chest and lungs, ripped at her heart, and buzzed unpleasantly under the deepest layers of consciousness, muffled. It abated easily enough after a second, when the sounds were again blocked and she couldn't recall the lapse or reason for it at all, only distant notions she chose to ignore.
Time didn't pass. Stagnancy crowded the limited awareness of her own mind, contained to the blankness. The nothing offered no warmth or distress, numbing her inside like she'd frozen over with ice. She'd never known such utter, undisturbed, internal stillness. That is, if shecouldknow anything at all in such a state that only existed because she knew nothing.
Screeeeeeech!
And then it was gone.
The world shifted. Anya gasped as pain smacked into her side and shoulder, forcing her mind awake as if she'd been dropped in the ocean with no warning. Her heart hammered, unable to collect herself through the discombobulation and loud noises, mind scrambling to right itself. She felt a little alien in her own body, disconnected. Her hands grabbed for the nearest thing to anchor herself, feeling the concaveness she gripped to rather than seeing it.
Screaming. People were—had been screaming. Slightly muffled. The texture under her hand was smooth and hard. It was brighter here than in her mind. She was sitting. Er. Leaning against. . .a door.
Anya inhaled heavily and out and in and out, adjusting to the stimuli, distantly recognizing the glass and seats and shapes that made out the inside of a car. Beige. Blue skies. That was a bird on a telephone wire.
It took her a second to notice who was in the driver seat and the strange lady next to him.
It came crashing over her in a wave, sweeping her up in the turbulent currents she couldn't keep her head above. Her chest hurt and she heaved in wet breaths, on the verge of sobbing as she sat straighter and swung her gaze about frantically. Getting on her knees, a quick look outside showed another car, perpendicular to them, that they had swerved to avoid. Both of them were now halted, Donovan having inadvertently blocked the road.
Anya seized the chance to yank on the door handle, but it wouldn't open. The lock-stick thing wouldn't come back up no matter how she tried to pry it out with her fingernails. The window wouldn't roll down. She hiccupped, choking on air and panicking. The sidewalks had gathered small bunches of people who peered and craned to see what was going on. Desmond was saying something to the lady. Anya banged on the window with her palms, hoping to get someone's attention, to help, but no one was looking at her. They had all turned their attention elsewhere.
Anya followed their gazes to the car Scion boy's father had nearly crashed into, to see the driver's door opening. The metal glinted in the sunlight and the glass glared, black shoes planting on the asphalt.
Anya stilled when out came a dark head of hair. She panted for breath, not at the alarming amount of blood spurting from the top and staining his face in it, but the familiar features and the gurgly way her lungs bubbled. She hardly processed he was covered in dirt, grime, and blood, old and new, and sported tears and damage all over his uniform. He wobbled the first step as he left the car, but was otherwise steady when he approached Desmond's vehicle.
Like a fissure had been torn into her chest, her panic began to leak out of it as oxygen flooded in, hiccuping and sobbing as she stood on her seat. It gave her a better view as her uncle Yuri levelled a gun at Desmond through the windshield.
His face was a terrifying thing to behold. Focused rage burned in blood-red eyes, hard lines formed his mouth, veins pulsed in his forehead. Both hands gripped the gun so hard, muscles protruded pulsing veins prominently under his skin. His eyes were lined pink like he'd been crying, and indeed, smudges of dirt that had been disturbed, evidenced where he'd wiped away the wet salt, but it only added to the unsettling visage.
His stance was firm—even as people screamed and scattered—as he flicked the safety off, feet evenly placed. He spoke not a word, conveying his hatred and intention through unwavering gaze alone.
Through the painful terror ripping around outside and the pounding echoing and multiplying in her skull, Anya could not even hear Yuri's thoughts. They were silent with deathly intent and raged a fiery inferno that razed down any thoughts or instinct that weren'tmurderous.She felt that if she reached further, to touch it, it wouldburn.
Anya's eyes went wide, and she ducked to the floor on shaky limbs. Her chest heaved. She covered her ears and she tried to breathe. The screaming was too loud, too many people, it made her head hurt. The car was stuffy. She wanted out of it. She wanted Bond. She wanted her parents. She wanted to go home.
She wanted this to be over.
The gunshots made her ears ring.
End
Author's Note:
Wow. Finally finished it. Just took almost a year. . .
I do plan on writing a part three at some point for those of you interested, don't know when, I'm focused on something else right now, but it's in the works. :)
Thank you to all who read this and your support, I hope you enjoyed it, it was an amazing experience to write and share with you.