Beautifully Broken

Shit, am I ready for this?

Anxiety grips my chest in a painful hold. The last time I was at a bar… I met Steven. I fucked up, and I paid dearly for it.

My body starts to tremble at the horrible memories.

I can’t do this.

My eyes dart around the parking area, and then they jump to Damian, where he’s walking around the front of the car. He opens my door, and when I glance up at him, he must see the panic on my face because he takes hold of my hand and helps me climb out.

Damian moves in close to me, and our bodies brush as he shuts the door. Cornered between the car and Damian, I feel safe for a moment, and it makes me inch closer to him, wishing I could just hide from the world forever.

Damian doesn’t pull back but instead turns his face to mine. His warm breath chases the cold air from my neck.

Being so close to him makes conflicting emotions erupt in my chest. It makes me shiver with both fear and comfort. It’s bewildering.

“You’ll be fine in there, Cara. I’m here. I have your back.”

When I nod, he pulls away, but then he places a finger beneath my chin, nudging my face up. “You’re safe with me.”

I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing those words from him. Every time they leave his mouth, it calms me.

I nod again and keep my head up when he pulls his hand away from my chin.

When we begin to walk, I stay close to Damian, and I have to resist the urge to grab hold of his hand. I try to regain control over the rampant emotions wreaking havoc in my chest.

You can do this.

The sooner you get used to being around people, the sooner you can get a job.

The air is stale with cigarette smoke before we even enter the bar. The smell makes me hunch my shoulders, and I wrap my arms around myself, grabbing my sides tightly.

As Damian opens the door, laughter and music hit me full in the face. It’s overwhelming.

Dimmed lights. Moving bodies. Constant laughter and loud voices.

Then there’s a sharp-pitched scream as a huge man slaps a waitress on the ass, and I stumble back from it all.

The smoke is thick, and it presses against my face until I feel sick.

Shit, I’m going to vomit. I can’t do this.

Panic flairs hot through me, and my breathing speeds up.

Damian’s arm wraps around me, and he pulls me to stand right in front of him. His solid chest presses to my back, and his hand slides to my hip, then he nudges me slightly.

I take an uneasy step forward, my eyes darting everywhere. I know Damian will keep me safe, but it doesn’t ease the overwhelming feeling of being out in public.

I walk where he steers me, but then a huge man staggers in front of me, and he grabs for me. I shriek and jump back, slamming into Damian. Before I can stop myself, I spin around and grab hold of his shirt while burying my face against his chest. “I don’t think I can do this,” I admit, feeling pathetically weak.

I feel Damian’s breath skim over my hair, and then his arms go around me, locking me in a protective hug.

I fear everything around me, but not Damian. I don’t know why, but I trust him with the sliver of life I have left. I trust him more than I trust myself because I almost got myself killed. It’s my fault they raped me because I put myself in that horrid situation.

But Damian… he saved me. He protects me, and that’s much more than I have done for myself.

“I have you. You’re safe.” I can barely hear him, but the words sink deep into my broken soul.

I look down at my fingers, digging into his shirt, not even aware that I was holding on so tightly. I pry my fingers loose and suck in a deep breath. The thick smell of smoke is not so overwhelming anymore. Mixed scents fill the air, making it easier to breathe.

Slowly, Damian lets go of me, and then he reaches for my hand. I grab for my lifeline and stay glued to his side as we make our way to the bar. I keep my eyes on his hand, his strong fingers wrapped around mine.

I’m safe with Damian.

I can do this.

I listen as Damian places an order and take the glass when he hands it to me. Bringing the drink to my lips, I throw my head back, letting the liquid burn down my throat. The alcohol chases the chill from my body, and after a minute, I relax enough to focus on Damian.

He sits down on a stool, and it almost brings him to eye level with me. My gaze lands on the black ink curling from beneath his collar. Then I lower my eyes to his forearm, where there’s more ink.