CHAPTER 81: CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE: DAMIEN’S STORY: XXI: THE HOLE YOU LEFT IN US.

Damien dropped his hand from Ezra’s neck and squeezed himself out of his powerful arms. He ran to his father, stumbling over the drums before falling directly on him. He rushed to regain himself and tightened his grip around his neck as firmly as his tiny body possibly could.

Ever since Mira’s death, he had been shoved into sleep for two full days. When he finally woke up, neither of his parents were beside him. Damien was so scared he couldn’t utter a single word and just laid there on the bed with his mouth wide open.

It didn’t take long before someone dashed into the room and carried him out of the bed. Ezra. Apparently, when he thought he wasn’t making any sounds, he had been been shrieking the whole time. It wasn’t too loud, but for a vampire with trained, heightened senses, he just had to notice it.

Ezra pressed him against his chest, shaking him as his body laid limply against it. This boy was too cold for a normal child. Damien had completely frozen up.

Sleep paralysis. And by the looks of it, it had been on for a good amount of time before he came.

Wasn’t a kid his age too young for such an evil experience? That was the only logical explanation he could come up with for what he was currently experiencing.

What a poor kid. His mother was dead, brother still hadn’t been searched for and his father had locked himself in his depression. There was no one else to care for him or even check up on him. He...he had been the one doing that for two days.

All because of a single curse.

"You have to survive kid. You don’t know what was put in the line for it!" Ezra had said through gritted teeth. He kept shaking him as he thought hard on what to do to revive him.

That was when a thought came to him. He sat on the bed and hurriedly bit into his wrist. He then propped the boy’s head up and poured the dripping liquid into his mouth.

After a few seconds of the blood entering his mouth and still nothing, Ezra was getting agitated.

"Come on, come on, come on..."

He tore into his skin again, creating an even bigger cut this time. His blood flowed mercilessly from the cut into Damien’s opened mouth. A good amount fell on his clothes and chest but he didn’t care. There was no way this kid was going to die after what had been taken to make him live.

Alex hadn’t even bothered to check up on him. In fact, he didn’t even know since he had locked himself up till now.

"Papa! Papa! Where’s Mama I’m finally awake!" Damien continued with a smile on his face. Alex took a good look at his son: he was so lean! Too lean even.

That cursed demon had really fed on his body, Alex thought. He finally saw what his wife had been so insistent on because he hadn’t paid much attention and had only focused on his own greed. His little boy had been suffering but he had been to overwhelmed with his wife to see how much.

Alex pulled his thin body into a warm hug, completely enveloping his small frame in his embrace. "I see it now." he whispered. "I see it now, my love."

Damien remained in his father’s embrace without moving. His tired body and mind desperately craved for emotional support from either of his parents. After that paralysing experience, Ezra had followed him like a leech. Through out that time, he hadn’t said a word. Ezra wondered if that scream had broken his vocal cords because of his silence.

At night, he had made sure to always be there with him on that bed. He knew a mother’s warmth could never be replaced but he could at least try to fill in the gap.

No matter what, the child would always... always run back to her.

A day passed. Then two. Three, four and still not a peep from him!

At this point, he was already exhausted. Caring for a child was work and he wasn’t ready for that at all. He called on the others and marched down to his chambers that night. But he didn’t want Damien to stay alone especially since night was fast approaching so he sent them to him instead.

He got that he could never understand the amount of pain he must be going through. What he knew was that Mira would never want him to go this far with their child being unknowingly neglected.

He tried to justify his reasons for calling him out of his mourning but still felt it was wrong. Ezra dropped his hand in defeat, running his hand through his hair. This darned man was going to be the death of him.

"Whatever." he said before running his hand through the thick, mahogany double doors. In less than a millisecond, that great, dense door crumpled like burning paper. It wasn’t a shocker. Ezra was literally an highly trained bodyguard for the king right from childhood.

"Papa what’s wrong? Why...why are you so sad?" Damien asked innocently, lounging in his father’s cosy scent. Alex didn’t answer his question. Not that he couldn’t, he just didn’t know what to say. It broke his already shattered heart seeing his son so shrivelled, weak but it was also the same with his dead wife.

He was overwhelmed with grief and great sorrow. So much was his pain that all he could do was hug him. He had no warmness or comfort left in his entire system to offer but he still made his empty vessel available.

Surprisingly, Damien didn’t care. He didn’t even notice.

Alexandria sighed, causing his arms to unfold gently from Damien’s back. Damien took that opportunity to slip away from him. A beaming, happy smile shone on his bony, dried up face but Alex couldn’t feel it. His suffered, bony body made it hard to feel anything but pain. Aching, agonizing pain.

"Papa!" Damien called out to pull his attention back to himself. "Where’s mama? I can’t find her anywhere. Did she go out for one of her meetings? Why are her clothes scattered everywhere?"

No answer.

"Papa! Where is—"

"Quiet!" Alex barked out, unable to stomach it anymore. He never wanted to hurt his son with the truth, but he couldn’t hide it forever — his mother had died for his life, and he had to know.

"Mama is dead, Damien. She’s no more and you’ll never see her again."

Silence squeezed the room in its dark hands. Ezra couldn’t bear the way the little boy’s smile dropped. It was just so painful to watch that he didn’t want to imagine how it felt to be him at that moment.

Having stood motionless all this while, he turned and walked out the door, granting them the space they needed.

"Huh...huh? But..."

Alex’s head shot up at him. There was no denial getting past him. He had to know...he must.

Damien fell to his knees with a small thud. His impoverished body couldn’t take the weight of the bombshell dropped on him.

Soon, large droplets began to fall from his eyes. It didn’t take long before he started to wail too.

That shattering sound was coming from a boy who had been to hell and back. Tears flooded his eyes like glaciers and he rolled violently on the floor, grabbing his head in his two hands.

"It’s not true! It isn’t true! Mama is—she isn’t dead!" he kept repeating, his voice cracking through each word he uttered, tearing through the air like shards. His small fists pounded frantically against his head, desperate to drown out the unbearable truth.

Alex couldn’t take it anymore. It was impossible to just sit back and watch him reason out the ugly truth. Every word, every broken sob shredded what was left of his composure. He rushed to his son’s side, falling to his knees beside him.

"Hey, hey stop it!" His voice trembled as he reached for the boy’s wrists, but the child only fought harder, his cries rising into something and inhuman wail. Something that didn’t sound like grief but like the sound of a soul being torn apart.

He was breaking into a million pieces yet there was just nothing that would change that. He too was heartbroken beyond repair and now he had to cater for the emotional needs of their son.

Damien’s cries grew louder, rawer. It wasn’t the cry of a child anymore; it was the sound of a heart shattering in real time. His chest heaved violently, his throat burning as anguished sobs tore through him, desperate and uneven.

"Why... why her?! Why did she die?!" he screamed out between gulps of air, his voice trembling as if it could collapse under its own weight. "She was supposed to be here when I woke up—I want mama!"

I—wa—"

The words came in fragments, each one dissolving into another choked sob. His body shook uncontrollably, his fingers clutching at his hair as though tearing at something that refused to let him go.

Alex watched helplessly. Damien’s small frame convulsed in his arms, his tears soaking through his shirt. Every time the boy gasped for breath, it sounded like a plea — for her, for mercy, for the world to undo what it had done.

"Mama..." he whimpered again, the word so faint it barely escaped his lips. Then louder, "Mama!" His voice cracked, splitting into a scream that echoed through the house, a scream that made the walls tremble with its grief.

He hit his father’s chest weakly, his small fists trembling. "Bring mama back!"

Anyone at that point in time would have duly reminded him that he was the cause of her passing but not Alex. Mira wouldn’t want her child to carry that burden alone throughout his life and neither would he.

He had become hollow with grief but he wasn’t senseless.

Alex swallowed hard, his own tears falling freely now. He didn’t stop him. He couldn’t. Every blow, every sob, every broken word was deserved. He needed someone and shouldn’t be left alone at this trying time so Alex took it in silence... like a punishment.

Damien’s voice grew hoarse, fading into hiccupping sobs. He clung to his father’s shirt then, as though it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, his face red and wet, his lips trembling uncontrollably.

Alex held him tighter, rocking him slowly, whispering through the trembling.

"It’s okay... I’ve got you... you’re not alone."

But Damien wasn’t hearing him. His world had collapsed, and all he could do was wail in its ruins. The sound of it filled the room, echoing off the walls until even the silence afterward felt heavy with grief.

When at last his sobs began to quiet; It was more of exhaustion than peace. The kind that comes after too much pain, when even tears have nothing left to give.

After almost an hour of endless wailing, Damien’s body eventually went limp against Alex’s chest. His breathing came out ragged but slowed. His fingers still clutched the fabric of his father’s shirt, refusing to let go, as if afraid that if he did, the last piece of his mother would vanish with it.