CHAPTER 126: 126 - STILL BROKEN

126

~Lisa’s POV

I sat there, my body trembling as hot tears rolled down my cheeks. My hands shook as I tried to button up my dress, but I couldn’t stop crying. I hated myself. I hated this place. I hated everything.

That was when the door suddenly flew open and Damon rushed in. He was panting, like he had been running for hours. His eyes scanned the room, then landed on me.

"Lisa..." His voice was sharp, filled with something I couldn’t place...fear? Anger? "Who did this to you?"

I turned my face away. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want his fake concern.

He moved closer, his chest rising and falling quickly. "Lisa, answer me! Who touched you? Was it Rowan? Was it Kael?"

I laughed bitterly through my tears. "Why are you asking me that? You already know."

He froze. "What do you mean?"

I glared at him with all the strength I had left, my body trembling from both rage and shame. My throat burned from crying, but I still forced the words out.

"Don’t pretend, Damon. Don’t stand there acting like you care about me. You and your brothers... you’re all the same. You take what you want. You don’t care how I feel. So why this sudden pretense?"

The room went so quiet I could hear my own shallow breathing. His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching like he was holding himself back. His fists clenched by his sides, nails digging into his palms, but he said nothing right away. That silence only fueled my anger.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low but shaking. "Lisa, I swear, I didn’t..."

"Enough!" I cut him off before he could say more, my voice cracking under the weight of my tears. "Don’t you dare lie to me. Don’t you dare make excuses. You’ve watched them force themselves on me before, Damon, and you never stopped them. You stood there. You let it happen." My chest heaved as sobs broke through. "And you...you also did that to me."

His face paled, the blood draining from it so fast I thought he might faint. He looked like someone had struck him, like the truth was heavier than he expected to carry. For the first time, I saw something real in his eyes, something I had never seen before. Guilt.

"I..." His throat worked as he swallowed hard, his voice breaking. "Lisa, I... I didn’t mean..."

I shook my head violently, stepping back from him, like even the air between us was poisonous. Fresh tears spilled from my eyes, hot and uncontrollable. "Don’t. Don’t say you didn’t mean it. You already made it worse. All of you did. You let it happen, Damon. You were part of it. You could have stopped them, but you didn’t. You could have protected me, but instead you joined them."

My words seemed to cut through him like a knife. His eyes flickered with pain, but I had no pity left for him. None. I was empty of it.

"You don’t get to stand there and act like you care about me now," I whispered, my voice trembling. "You don’t get to look at me with guilt in your eyes and pretend you’re different. You’re not. You’re one of them."

I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to silence my sobs, but it was useless. My body shook so hard I felt like I would collapse. My knees wanted to give out, but I forced myself to stay upright, to not let him see me fall apart completely.

He took a small step toward me, his hand half-raising like he wanted to reach for me, to comfort me. "Lisa..." he said, his voice soft, broken.

"Don’t touch me!" I screamed, backing away, my voice raw. "Don’t ever touch me again!"

His hand froze in mid-air, then slowly dropped to his side. His shoulders slumped, his entire body looking defeated. For a moment, he looked like a boy rather than the powerful man he always tried to be. But that didn’t change anything. Not for me.

"You can’t wash away what you did," I whispered through clenched teeth. "You can’t undo it. You and your brothers... you already destroyed me."

I turned from him, wiping at my tears even though they wouldn’t stop. My heart pounded so loud it drowned out everything else. I couldn’t breathe in that room anymore, not with him standing there, not with his guilt suffocating me as much as his betrayal had.

So I walked away, leaving him standing in the wreckage of what he had done to me, leaving him with his guilt and my brokenness.

I stormed out of the room, my legs almost giving way under me, but I forced myself to keep walking. My own room felt like the only place I could breathe. When I got inside, I slammed the door shut and locked it.

My chest hurt, my throat burned, but I forced myself forward into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with a trembling hand. My fingers shook as I tugged at my dress, the fabric sticking to my skin, clinging like it didn’t want to let go. When I finally pulled it off, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

I froze.

There they were, the bruises, the red marks, the scratches that weren’t accidents but reminders of hands I didn’t want, of moments I wished I could erase. My reflection looked like a stranger. My body didn’t feel like mine anymore. It was theirs, claimed, damaged, stained. My stomach twisted in disgust, and before I knew it, hot tears blurred my vision.

I staggered to the shower, turned the handle, and let the scalding water gush out. Steam filled the room, fogging up the glass, but it didn’t hide me from myself. Stepping under the spray, I pressed my palms against my skin and began to scrub. Hard. Again and again. My nails dug into my arms, my shoulders, my thighs. The skin turned red, angry, raw, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted it gone, the feeling, the memory, their touch.

But no matter how much I scrubbed, no matter how much the water burned, nothing changed. The marks stayed. The dirt wasn’t on my skin, it was inside me. And no amount of water in the world could wash that away.

I leaned my forehead against the tiles, sobbing quietly as the water rushed over me.

I had been here before. Many times. After every time they forced themselves on me, I came here, to this shower, believing that maybe this time the water would wash me clean. That maybe this time I would feel whole again. But it never worked.

I always walked out still broken.

Still dirty.

Still me.