Breaking

Damien woke up slowly, following his usual routine. He rolled off his bed onto the assorted pile of crap on his floor and lay there until the sharp corners of CD cases finally drove him off in the direction of the bathroom. He fell into the tub and blearily swung about for the hot water nozzle. He then realized he had left his boxers on. He decided to keep them on, liking the feel of the wet silk on his skin. He reached for the shampoo and poured half the bottle in his hair by accident. Only after getting lavender scented goo over every available surface, did he peel the boxers off.
After ten minutes of standing in the scalding water, Damien forced himself from the shower. He wrapped himself in a slightly damp towel and hurried down the cold hall to his room. He managed to evade his strung-out mother as she woke up.

Damien tossed the wet boxers over a radiator to dry and toweled off. He combed his hair slowly, running his hands through his silken locks with a fond touch. Amused by his own vanity, Damien raked his hair out of his eyes and hunted around on the floor for a relatively dirt-free pair of jeans. He was feeling lazy, bordering on the realms of apathy, but he managed to find a somewhat clean pair anyway. He could not wear them however. The pocket had been torn off by his girlfriend, Cassandra, in a fight. He smiled, thinking of her. She loved him so much she'd do anything to keep him. Silly, since he'd give anything for her. He loved he more then simple anything's.
He tossed the jeans back on the floor, determined to look his best for her. He found a pair of black leather pants that laced up the side in a Slash G'N'R style. Now slightly awake and feeling eclectic, he added a ruffly Renaissance gentleman's shirt, a green brocade vest, and knee-high combat boots. He grabbed his trench coat and flew out the door. If he ran, he might be able to catch The Devil and hitch a ride to Cassie's.

Damien ran down the road, skidding in the sand at the end of The Devil's driveway, and pounding up her stairs. The Devil, who had seen him coming, threw open the door and embraced him. "Dami!" she exclaimed, "You look great! What's the occasion?"

"Just Cassio. Think Tina would give me a ride to her house?" he said as he stepped into her kitchen.

The Devil frowned though whether in thought or disapproval, Damien was unsure. "Probably, unless she is really late," she replied. Damien pulled out a chair as the Devil poured him a cup of coffee from a leftover pot. "One lump or six?" she joked.

"Ten!" Damien laughed. She put in four spoonfuls of sugar then handed it to him.

"Mesir's coffee," she purred, sitting next to him. The Devil, nee Alyssa, raised a glass of tea to purple painted lips and sipped delicately. He gulped down half of his coffee at once, still not fully awake.

"Thanks, Liss. So," Damien said, leaning back and closing his eyes to wait for the caffeine rush, "What's goin' on?"

"Same old, same old. I hate school, I hate my parents, I'm failing my classes, and I hate my life," The Devil sighed. She pushed the cup of tea away moodily.

He grabbed her right hand and gently turned it over. Lifting away the sleeve of her black dress revealed many scabbed over razor marks that crisscrossed her wrist and forearm. He sighed and kissed her hand. "Alyssa. I thought I confiscated all this shit?"

"I bought new ones," she smiled sadly. Damien rose and walked quickly to her room. A few minutes of searching yielded four new razors. He placed them in his pocket.

As he exited her room, The Devil's mother passed him. "Good morning Damien. You look quite handsome today," she said.

"Thank you," he replied politely, going back downstairs to the kitchen. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around The Devil's thin shoulders. He could not hear her sobbing but he could feel the wet heat of her tears through his sleeve. After a few minutes, he pulled her to her feet. "Ok, breath damnit. Hey. Alyssa. It'll be ok. I promise," his eyes were drawn out the window as a red car pulled into the driveway. "Kristen's here. You ok?" he asked, suddenly fidgety. She nodded, wiping away black-streaked tears.

Damien grabbed his backpack and handed The Devil hers. He bounded down the steps to the car, filing this incident in the back of his mind for later. All his thoughts had turned to Cassandra. "Hey smelly! Think you could give me a ride to my girlfriends?" he asked, trying to look his most charming.

"Get in the back you mooch! So she's why you look so sexy this morning!" Kristen laughed, pushing her short blonde hair out of her eyes. The Devil slid into the front seat and shut the door with a click.

Damien once again wondered at the contrast between the cousins. Kristen had permed and frosted blonde hair and eyes of an indeterminate gray-blue. She was a bit on the round side, but it suited her happy, smiling demeanor. Trendy and popular, she wore flared jeans, a lavender sweater, and clogs. Alyssa, The Devil, was her dead opposite. Moody and grim, her eyes were black as night, with barely a distinction between pupil and iris. Her hair was the same hueless ebony, swept back in a messy ponytail. One of the only freaks in the school, she wore a long black dress, spiked collar, and her ubiquitous combat boots.

Still, for people so different, they got along rather well. They had even compromised on their musical tastes, The Devil putting up with some louder Grateful Dead and Kristen listening to quieter Metallica. Damien smirked at the thought of his metal-loving best friend swaying around in a tripped-out hippie daze. But once again, all thoughts flew from his mind as Cassandra's house came into view. It was a large white Victorian on top of a hill. Kristen pulled into the drive. "Thanks ugly," he grinned. He hopped out of the car and ran up the stairs, offering a cursory wave good-bye to the pair as they drove off.

He pressed the doorbell and fidgeted for a moment before Cassandra's mother let him in. "Hello Damien. Cassandra is still getting dressed. My, but don't you look wonderful," she greeted, gathering up her wallet and shoving in into her bulging purse.

"I'll wait then. Want me to make you a cup of coffee for the car, Mrs. O'Conner?" Damien asked politely, handing her the keys to her Toyota from the little peg on the wall.

"Oh, you're a saint! Would you?" she exclaimed.

"It's in the name," Damien grinned, taking the six stairs up to the kitchen in two bounds of his long legs. He put enough coffee in the pot for three very large cups, knowing Cassandra would take quite a while. He put some bread in the toaster and started in on some eggs, sunny side up with just a touch of pepper. Cassandra had taught him how she liked her eggs a long while ago. He grilled a few green and red pepper slices along with some onions in the corner of the pan, knowing that she loved these in the morning too. No bacon, of course, since she was a vegetarian.

Mrs. O'Conner entered, sniffing the air. "Oh my, does it smell good in here! Cassie is a lucky girl to have you, Damien," she said, tousling his hair. He grinned and poured her coffee into a travel mug.

"And I'm even luckier to have her. Here, eat these. I made them since I know you didn't have breakfast," he said, handing her two buttered pieces of toast with a sprinkle of cinnamon on the top. Mrs. O'Conner clapped, amazed.

"You're just wonderful! Remind me to take you out to dinner someday soon." She checked her watch and gathered her things. "Bye Dami. Bye Cassie!" she shouted, around the pieces of toast already in her mouth.

"Bye mom," came the faint response. Mrs. O'Conner slipped out the door, pulling on a jacket, getting out her keys, and trying to chew, all at once.

Damien got out a plate and delicately arranged Cassandra's food on it. He poured her out a cup of coffee, carefully adding just the right amount of cream and sugar. He left the rest warming in the pot, in case he had done it wrong. he quickly cleaned up the mess he had made. "Christ, you're just like a housewife," commented a voice from behind him. He turned. Cassandra frowned at him.

"Oh. I thought I would clean up so you wouldn't have to later," he said, embarrassed.

"I don't clean," she snapped. He grinned.

"I made you breakfast," Damien said, drying his hands and kissing her cheek. Cassandra smiled testily, examining it.

"I like my eggs poached," she said, irritated. He looked at the floor.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't know," he murmured.

"Fine. Whatever." Cassandra sat down, skewering a red pepper. She ate silently for few moments. Damien stood behind her, ashamed he had messed up so badly. After a moment she gestured at him to sit. "It's not bad. Thanks," she said, smiling at him. He smiled back, happy that she at least liked some of it.

"Thanks. I'll remember to make 'em poached next time," Damien replied, adjusting the ruffles on his sleeves.

"Good. Turn on the radio," Cassandra ordered. He did so immediately. He sat again expectantly, but she did not look or speak to him until she was finished eating. She handed him the plate and cup, which he obediently placed in the dishwasher. She looked him over as he did this. "What the hell are you wearing?" she burst out.

"Um.......clothes?" Damien shrugged.

"You look like you're queer with all those ruffles. I think you have a shirt in my room. Go change," she sighed, disgusted.

He hung his head."K. Sorry," he muttered.

She caught his sleeve as he passed. "I'm doing this because I love you and I don't want them laughing at you. You know that. Don't you?" she questioned.

"Of course I know," he said, laughing.

"Good," Cassandra murmured, pulling him close. She linked her hands behind his neck, roughly pulling his mouth to hers. Her kisses were just as rough, more of a fight than an embrace. Damien ran his hands through the red-gold of her hair, slowly drawing away.

"I love you," he whispered, touching his forehead to hers and smiling.

"I know," she returned, making little kissey faces at him.

"I'll go change," he said, pulling haltingly away. She kissed his hand as it passed her lips, then caught it roughly. She slammed it against the table, yanking him back. He yelped, as jolt of pain shooting up his arm as she twisted it.

"What the hell is this!" Cassandra screamed, her face flushed with anger. She yanked at his cuff angrily, twisting his wrist more.

"Huh?" Damien gasped, puzzled as to what she saw. She jerked his arm up in front of his face.

"THIS!!" she yelled, shoving the cuff in front of his eyes. There was a small black smudge on the cuff, the residue of some sort of mascara or eyeliners. "You've been sleeping around with your whores haven't you!" she cried.

"No, of course not," he breathed as she twisted his wrist more, "when I went to Lissa's this morning, s-she was crying. I gave her a hug. It must have got on me then." He shrugged as best he could with her hanging onto his arms.

"Liar! If you hugged her it would be on your collar! Liar!!" She twisted his wrist hard, forcing him to take a step back or risk dislocating it.

"It... was an awkward hug. From behi..."

"LIAR!!!! What have you been doing with her behind my back?!" Cassandra screeched, pushing him backward and letting go of his arm. Damien immediately raised it to block a flurry of punches.

"Nothing, I swear!" he protested, trying instinctively to back away.

"You've been sleeping with her! I've seen the way you look at her!" she accused.

"H-how do I look at her?" he squeaked, shocked that she could think such a thing.

"You stare at her! All the time, out of the corner your eyes! When you should be looking at me!" Her whole body shook with her rage.

"No! I don't, I swear! She's my friend. I'm always looking at you, Cassie! I love you!" Damien pleaded, taking another step back. She gave a guttural cry and shoved him backwards with all her strength. He reeled, off-balance and off-guard. He was near the door and as soon as he felt her hands on his chest he knew he was going through it.

His elbow clipped the doorframe and it burnt with pain. It turned his body slightly, so he was angled to land on his side. He saw himself pass over the stairs and he knew something would break when he hit the floor.

He came down hard on his arm and felt his premonition come true in one sharp snap. He could hear Cassandra yelling but he couldn't understand her. He rolled onto his other side and tried to move his arm. It wouldn't even twitch. He pulled it across his chest in an effort to make it move. It didn't hurt yet, although the arm the clipped the doorframe did. His only thoughts were whether or not he would be able to play his bass. A dish breaking by his ear brought his attention back to Cassandra. "Get UP!" she screamed. Her face was red and her eyes were wild.

"My arms broken," Damien whispered, squeezed his eyes shut.

"I don't care! Get up or I swear I'll break your other arm!" she spat vehemently. She threw a coffee mug at him. It hit his shin and shattered. He stood quickly. He almost fell again as a wave of dizziness assaulted him again but like any dog that has gone down, he knew if he went down again he was a dead man.

Cassandra strode forward and grabbed him by the jaw. "You will NOT see her again! You will stop being with her! I never want to see her again!" She shoved him backwards into a side table. It impacted with his broken arm and the first pain shot up Damien's arm. A small scream escaped him.

Cassandra stopped by the front door and turned, glaring. He shivered, afraid of what she might come back and do. She stood in the doorway a moment longer then slammed the door behind her. The bus pulled up to the sidewalk.

Damien slumped against the wall, tears of pain filling his eyes. He had broken other limbs, but he always forgot just how much it hurt. He stood, teeth clenched, and staggered to the phone. He didn't want to call 911. Those stupid pigs would just screw everything up and misunderstand everything. Cassandra didn't mean to do this. God, she loved him so much that she was jealous of the Devil. But his brain was clouded with pain and he couldn't think of anyone else. He wanted to call his brother but Ben was on the West Coast. No help. He could hear Ben saying that'd he'd always be there to protect Damien. The Angel's promise he'd always be safe. The Devil's promise to always be there. Well, where were they? This was their fault.

Damien sunk into a seat, his arm throbbing. A flash came him then. Jamie might not have gone to work yet. He llifted the receiver and cradled it against his neck. He punched in the numbers, hoping he dialed right. Jamie's mother picked up.

"Hello?"

"Is Jamal there please?" Damien asked.

"Of course. Hang on once second," she replied. He could here her calling for Jamie. Eternity passed before he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Jamie it's me! Listen, I really need you to come get me. I'm at Cassie's. Please?" Damien pleaded, suddenly afraid Jamie wouldn't come.

"Sure, ok. I'll be there as fast as humanly possible," Jamie said. Damien dropped the receiver and collapsed against the back of the chair. He sat there for longer then he knew. Morbid thoughts of his death, his friends, and his love danced between periods when there were no thoughts at all.

Finally, Damien felt Jamie's hand on his forehead. He opened his eyes and smiled weakly. "You're dead white, kid. What happened?" Jamie asked, his brown eyes brimming with concern.

"Take me home," Damien muttered.

"No! What's going on?!" Jamie repeated, taking Damien's arm in desperation. Damien screamed in anguish. "Oh my god! Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital." Jamie said worriedly. Despite Damien's weak protests, Jamie led him to the car. Damien leaned against the window as they peeled out, slipping back into semi-consciousness as a defense against the pain.

After another period of dreaming he felt a lurch as Jamie jerked to a halt in a parking space. "Now, what's wrong with you? And don't dick around. This is serious," Jamie said sternly. Damien sighed.

"I broke my arm."

"And you wanted to go home?! Are you high?" Jamie screeched.

"No....I......" Damien slumped against the window again.

"Ok, this is getting us nowhere. Lets get you some help, huh?" Jamie opened his door and circled around to help Damien out. He placed Damien's good arm around his shoulders. "I'd carry you, but you're too heavy," Jamie said, guiding Damien towards the doors.

"I broke my arm, not my leg," Damien muttered, fighting back wave after wave of dizziness. Jamie laughed feebly.

"So, what happened?" he inquired.

"I told you. Nothing. I don't want to go into it," Damien replied, mentally cursing his inability to come up with a believable lie. Jamie sighed.

"You know, you will have to tell the doctors," he muttered. Damien started.

"What?"

"Yeah. Hey! Come on." Jamie had to drag the now skittish Damien into the Emergency Room. He sat him down gently in a big gray chair, making sure not to hit the broken arm. "Stay here ok? Please?" Jamie asked. Damien nodded. He couldn't have left if he wanted to. The visions swarmed back and carried him away. Jamie ran off, presumably to find a doctor.

Damien let his mind drift but the pain was beginning to break up his hallucinations. The ache from his broken arm was steadily increasing. He tried a pain trick the Devil had taught him, raising his hand and turning an imaginary knob by his elbow to tone done the anguish. All he accomplished was to further increase his torment by bumping his arm. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

"Hey? Dami? Kin you walk?" Jamie asked.

"I got here didn't I?" Damien snapped, trying to put on a show of strength and failing miserably. Jamie helped him to his feet, miffed by Damien's sudden animosity.

Damien was led into a tiny curtained room. Hospital attendants in crisp white coats helped him onto a stretcher. He could hear the cries of the sick and injured in the rooms surrounding him. The emergency room was little more than a hundred curtained enclosures packed into this space. The rooms themselves were barely big enough to fit a bed and the equipment in, much less the doctor and the patient. Due to the amazing number of people who came to the ER, the hospital had been forced to erect this place. There weren't many people here this early in the morning but those who were made up for their small numbers in noise.

Damien lay back, scared and in pain. He had been in the ER a few times, from fights, skateboarding fallouts, and accidents with Cassie. He had an irrational and all-consuming fear of the place. Being this close to death and suffering made it hard to raise the teenage shield of immortality.

He shivered, his whole body beginning to ache. Jamie sat by his side, uncomfortable, useless. This was his fault. His and The Devil's and Ben's and everyone else's. Cassie never would have done this if Alyssa hadn't been there. His friends were always messing up his life. They were only his friends when it was convenient for them! Where were they now! They messed up his life and ran away, leaving him to take the heat.

His anger battled with his fear and his pain but the two won out in the end. Every breath hurt and his arm twinged in time to the footsteps outside. Every sound brought fresh agony. He didn't know how his whole body could be in such torment when only a small part of him was broken.

The curtain to the room was pulled aside then and the harsh sound of rings against the metal curtain rod caused Damien to arch his back in pain.

"What's wrong son?" asked a white haired doctor. His keen blue eyes behind round spectacles seemed filled with sympathy for Damien's pain. His short white beard made him look like an elderly Abe Lincoln. Damien despised him more then all the others.

"I broke my arm," he said in a low voice. He wanted to yell it at this pitying old fool, but he couldn't muster up the will.

"And how did you do that?" Abe Lincoln-Doctor asked, taking notes in a metal folder.

"Does it matter?" Damien snapped.

"Damien!" Jamie warned. Damien sighed raggedly.

"I fell down a flight of stairs," he mumbled.

"All right, well, we're going to take you to be x-rayed and get that arm set. I'll need to call your parents. Is there any way I can reach them?" Abe Lincoln-Doctor inquired, still scribbling.

"My dad's card is in my wallet. You can leave a message with his secretary." Damien said. He hated the idea of even having his father involved in anyway. They were about as close as the Menendes family.

"All right. Now how about you lie down and rest now, ok son?" said Doctor Abe, snapping his folder shut.

"I'm not your son," Damien growled. Doctor Abe smiled sadly.

"Would that you were. The nurses will be along in just one second. Now," he said, turning to Jamie, "might I speak with you?"

"Of course," Jamie nodded, standing to follow Doctor Abe out. "I'll be back in a sec, K Dams?" Damien bit back a 'don't bother', afraid to be alone in this place, and nodded. They pulled the curtain shut and once again the noise caused him intense pain. He closed his eyes, waiting to pass out. Wasn't there supposed to be a threshold of pain? He tried to breach it by banging his arm against the metal side of the stretcher. He bit down on the back of his hand and gave a little scream of frustration and torment. It hurt terribly. There was no numbing, no passing out, no visions, no way to get away from that terrible, screaming agony. He could not feel anything, not the wet tracks of his tears, not the blood from his bitten lip.

Shaking, Damien forced himself to concentrate. The Devil had taught him many tricks to deal with pain. There was a way to break off the mind. He forced his mind to expand, heightening his senses until he wanted to scream aloud. His body was so consumed by pain, it almost pulled him back again. He held there, feeling every minute detail of the world and the pain it caused him. He let it build a moment longer then let his mind go, slingshoted into unconsciousness by the pressure.

Damien awoke only for brief seconds, once when the nurses were X-raying his arm and once while they set it. Each time his eyelids opened for a passing second before his mind was gone again. Even after his senses had reassembled, he let himself drift in the void between sleep and unconsciousness. This was more to save him self from mental torment then physical pain. He didn't want to think about Cassie, about how she was so right and he was so wrong. And about the Devil and how hurt she was going to be when he told her to get out of his life for good. No! His mind retreated further. Somewhere in his brain, something whispered about the greater good and was shouted down by the self-deserving.

When he finally awoke, it was to someone adjusting his bedclothes and lightly taking his good hand. Damien opened his eyes and looked to Cassandra. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He blinked in the harsh white light and realized the girl by his side was The Devil, not Cassie. This upset him some, but he was still glad she had come.

Alyssa didn't look much like "The Devil" today. She wore a long white blouse and jeans. A silver sunburst locket hung in-between the folds of the fabric. "You're back among the semi-living!" she giggled, embracing him happily, if not a bit gingerly. He stroked her hair affectionately, holding her as close as he could with one arm. "Oh Gods, you scared the hell out of me, Dami!"

He grinned. "So I see," he said, fingering her white blouse. Alyssa smiled.

"So what happened?" she asked.

"Cassie...uh," Damien began unthinkingly. He swallowed and continued. "I fell down her stairs. And, you know.....my arm went snap and boom! Here I am," he shrugged.

"Why didn't she help you?" Alyssa queried, pulled back to gaze critically into his eyes.

"She had already left," he replied quickly.

"That's crap, Damien! What really happened?" she asked, the left corner of her mouth twitching downwards in irritation.

"You want to know! Fine! We had a fight, that's what happened! A fight about you, about how much of a whore you are, and how you always try to come between the two of us! She left to go outside, you upset her so much! I was about to chase after her when I fell down the stairs! So don't even try to blame Cassie! This was your fault! I wish you were dead!" Damien yelled, scared and angry she was seeing through him so easily. He glared up at Alyssa. The color had drained out of her face, leaving her pallid and lifeless. Her eyes were glossed over. No tears formed: all emotion had withdrawn from her eyes. They were blank. He could see exactly were the arrow of his words had pierced her.

"I'm sorry," he continued quietly, "but I want you out of my life. Forever." Damien looked away. He watched the curtains curl slightly in the current from the heating vent.

There were a few moments of silence before she spoke. "If that's what you want then this is good-bye." He turned back to her, eyes wide. He had expected a fight, a valiant show of resistance in the face of an unacceptable loss. Something foreseeable of The Devil. But instead, there was this docile, defeated agreement. He wondered how deeply he had wounded her.

Alyssa stood stiffly, like a marionette with it's strings tangled. Her face was blank and her eyes........they were dead, flat pools that held no emotion at all. This frightened him. Her eyes always held something, some vital spark that gave the rest of her body life. Now they were voids, holes to occupy the space in her head.

Damien reached up and took Alyssa's hand. "I'm sorry. It really will be for the best....for all of us...if I don't...if we don't...see each other.....any more...at all. Ok?" he mumbled. She nodded mechanically. She didn't seem like the Devil anymore. She didn't even seem human anymore. She looked like a doll that had been broken by a careless child. She just didn't move quite right anymore.

"Hey. I'm doing this for all of us," said Damien. He pulled her to him, trying to smile at her blank eyes. "Hey. Smile for me, little devil." She smiled, and it somehow made her look all the more devastated. Damien kissed Alyssa's forehead.

"Good-bye Dami," she whispered. Her voice was still human and it held all the things her face could not.

"Liss. I still....I love you. I'm doing this because I love you." he said, remembering Cassie saying something similar.

"Don't! Don't you dare!" she cried. She jerked away, emotions returning. Now Alyssa looked every inch the Devil. Her eyes blazed and her hair frothed around her face.

Damien reached out to catch her, but caught only her necklace. They both froze, that one chain binding them together. He wrapped his fingers in the chain, trying to pull her back, to explain. He reached up and touched her face lightly. The Devil pulled back and the chain snapped. She fled and Damien was left with the points of a stylized silver sunburst digging into his the palm of his hand.

Damien opened the locket in the center of the pendant. Inside was a picture of her brother, Orion, now passed away. On the opposite side was his picture. He snapped the locket shut and flipped it over. 'Real Love is Forever ' was inscribed in spidery lettering across the back.

Damien clenched the locket tightly in one fist and leaned back into the pillows. What had he done now? He did not expect her to react that way at all. He thought she would argue, then finally see how much better this would be. But instead, it had all gone wrong. Something had to be wrong. He remembered, faintly, her crying. Many times, and recently too. He hadn't seen any of this, or rather, he had but forgot about them in the face of other tasks.

An image froze in his mind; razor marks across one delicate wrist. 'I thought I confiscated all this shit?' 'I bought new ones.'

Damien scrambled for the phone, banging his arm painfully against the bed. He called The Angel. His fingers misdialed twice and he had to start over.

"Mmm..hello?" came the Angel's breathy voice.

"ANGE! Listen! I need you to do me a favor! It's mad important!" he burst out.

"Damien? Ohmygod! Where are you, what's goin' on?"

"Ok, please don't freak out before I can finish. I'm in the hospi..."

"OhmyGOD!" The Angel cut in, "Are you ok? What happened? What.."

"Shut up and listen!" Damien yelled. "The Devil.....Alyssa came. Big fight. I need you to find her, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

"I'm on it," The Angel said, about to hang up!

"Wait!" Damien cried.

"Yeah?"

"Find Cassie. Tell her I'm ok. Make sure she's ok. Watch her for me. Tell her I love her," Damien begged.The Angel sighed. "Please Angela! She is the most important thing in the world to me right now! Please!"

"Fine." The Angel hung up. Glad that Cassandra would be all right, Damien sunk back into the pillows. Liss would recover...but poor Cassie. She'd be hysterical. He fretted over her before sinking back into slumber.

Damien awoke a few times, each time calling Cassandra's house before going back to sleep. Each time she was not there.

He was asleep when she came. Damien awoke to Cassandra flinging herself on top of him, sobbing. Her gray wool dress scratched his skin. He groggily embraced her. "Shhh...Cassie, don't cry. Please...shhh.....I'm so sorry.....shhhhh," he comforted.

Cassandra looked up at him, sniffling. Some of her mascara had stained the collar of his hospital gown. "You had me so worried!" she cried, pounding on his chest.

"I tried to call. Honest," Damien said.

"What did you tell them?" Cassandra whispered, her eyes too bright with tears.

"That I fell. Don't worry, love," he replied.

Cassandra looked at his arm with concern. "And you're ok?" she questioned.

"Perfect." Damien responded, kissing her forehead.

She kissed the shoulder of his broken arm. "My poor love," she purred. Her eyes were dark with lust. "I missed you so bad!"

"I missed you too," Damien breathed, amazed she could so quickly forgive him for making her worry so.

"Mmm...how much did you miss me?" she giggled.

"Too much." He grinned. She kissed him lightly and took his other hand. She noticed the cuts on his palm. "What did you do?"

"Oh. I cut myself on Alyssa's locket," Damien said, nodding at the bedside table. Cassandra's hand tightened on his own. "I told her not to come near me ever again. This broke in the ensuing fight," he finished quickly.

Cassandra smiled ferally. "Alyssa just didn't want to give you up, did she?" she mused.

"She has no choice. I'm yours, not hers." Damien replied, smiling at her.

"We'll prove that," Cassandra said. She slipped under the sheets and yanked Damien's hospital gown aside. Damien flinched. He didn't particularly have any desire to do anything in this awful hospital, even with Cassandra. But he figured he owed her this much for scaring her so badly. He just wished that no do-gooder nurse would wander in and disrupt them. He settled back to let her do as she wished.

The first cut took him by surprise. Damien sat up quickly. His chest encountered her hand and he fell back down again, banging his broken arm for the nth time. "What!" he squeaked.

"Don't move. I might miss," she purred. Her tone frightened him. It was quietly violent, all her rage tempered into a whisper. He froze, hoping it would help to speed up whatever she was doing.

Cassandra cut methodically into Damien's thigh, with what must have been a razor blade. He could feel the sticky blood running down his thigh. Cassandra had placed a thick white towel beneath his leg at some point. The blood soaked into it. She pressed his legs further apart, making more small, burning lacerations. She ran the razor up what uncut flesh there was and made two short slashes at the end. He could sense it formed an arrow. She kissed his bleeding thigh and sat up. "Now you really are mine!" she giggled, a smudge of his blood across her nose.
Cassandra jumped down off the bed. "Don't move. Let me just stop the bleeding. She rustled around in the cabinets for a moment before returning. She poured rubbing alcohol on some cotton balls and pressed it to his thigh. Damien hissed in pain. She bound the cotton to his leg with gauze then threw herself at him happily. "Tribal scarification. It's beautiful. Oh Dami! I love you! A million times over!" she cried, kissing him all over. Damien couldn't help smiling, forcing away the sting pain of his cut thigh.

"I love you too. Um, what did you do?"

Cassandra opened her fist to reveal Alyssa's locket. "Let it heal and it will be beautiful. You'll never forget me," she said.

"I could never forget you." Damien said. She kissed him lightly and turned off the lamp.

After Cassie was gone, Damien thought about how lucky he was. Cassandra had forgiven him, she loved him. And he loved her back, with more intensity then any schoolyard crush or out-dated friendship. He couldn't wait to see what beautiful new scar she had given him.

A nurse came to release him. His father trailed behind her, uncomfortably. The face of his father was sharp and angular, as if cut from stone. His black hair was long, like all the men in the Rios family, pulled back in a ponytail. His eyes were the same icy blue of his son's, but the two men were as unalike as any two could be. They got along famously awful, but Damien's mother didn't even posses a car. Damien ticket out of here was the stony visage before him.

As the nurse turned, Damien's father smiled with sickening false sincerity. "Hello son," he said, punching Damien's shoulder in the typical Mr. Nice Guy manner seen in several little leaguer movies. "They're about ta let you out of tis 'ere place," he said, making his voice funny as if he were speaking to a five year old.

Damien glowered at him. "Good. Get you of here while I change, will ya, Dad?" he replied, smiling with the same false pretense. His father nodded, his smile unable to hide his anger at this affront. He walked out stiffly, the nurse following.

Damien hopped off the bed and pulled on a clean black t-shirt that Jamie must have dropped off. He eased his jeans on over his sore thigh and slid his feet into his boots. He stuffed his socks in his pockets and tucked the laces into his boots. Grabbing the bag of his things, he left quickly. His father met him in the hall. They kept up the All-American father and son banter all the way to the car.

"So.....what happened to you?" his father asked, unlocking the doors to his silver Benz.

"I fell. I'm fine," Damien grumbled, sliding into the front seat. His father slammed his door and roared out of the parking lot, much like he did everything else. They zoomed down the highway at a comfortable 90.

"Were you high?" his father asked.

"No," Damien growled.

"You're acting like you're high now."

"I'm not. Jesus." Damien snapped.

"I don't like your attitude. And don't use the Lord's name in vain," his father commented, switching on the radio with one hand. Bach's sonata in G major came on. Bach was the only composer both father and son agreed on. After the movement ended Damien's father began again. "So how did you fall?" he asked.

"I fell," Damien muttered, annoyed.

"Yes....but...how?" his father repeated.

"Look, what does it matter? I fell. I broke my arm. End of story! Why does everyone keep bugging me!?" Damien exploded.

"Hey, I'm just trying to get the real deal. Stop yelling," his father snapped.

"I'm not yelling!" Damien yelled.

"Don't talk back to me!" his father said angrily.

"I'm not...arrr......" Damien sighed in frustration.

"I'm just trying to find out for what my insurance got billed god only knows how much cash."

"Your cash is all you ever care about." Damien glared at the trees flying past the window. They swung down the back road and screeched to a halt in Damien's driveway. Damien was out of the car before it had even stopped moving. He looked up at the rotting wood and peeling yellow paint of the double decker. "And Dad? Do you think you could actually pay child support so I don't have to live in such a festering tenement?" Damien said coldly. He slammed the door as his father pulled away.

Damien stormed up the stairs, straight to his room. He locked himself in and refused to leave. He only came out at odd hours to grab whatever packaged food that could survive the heat of his airless bedroom without rotting. He subsisted entirely off Tostitos, Twinkies, and flat Mountain Dew.

A little before noon on the second day of his confinement, someone began pounding on his door. Damien, like any good hermit, ignored it. The fist pounded more insistently. "Damien! Open the damn door!" came The Angel's voice. Damien rolled off his bed and staggered to the door. He drew the chain and undid the two bolts. The Angel pushed the door open the second he was done.

"Jesus! There are more locks on the door to your bedroom than on your front door! What the hell is going on?"

"You're too loud," Damien croaked and fell face first onto his bed.

"Are you high?" she asked, grabbing his arm to check for track marks.

"Mwo," he moaned, his face buried in the pillows. His voice was muffled severely by the pile.

"Well, maybe you should be! What is going on!" Angel shouted.

"I broff mii rarm afwi..."

"What?" The Angel asked, grabbing Damien's hair and pulling him out of the cushions.

"I broke my arm by accident. Now piss off," he said, pulling his hair out of his hands and flopping forward again.

"Where were you?" she inquired, taking his broken arm gently and examining the cast.

"Caffie's" he said, his voice muffled by the pillows.

"What!!" The Angel screamed, shaking his arm.

Damien sat upright. "OW! Are you trying to break it again?!" he yelped.

"What did she to you?" The Angel yelled.

"Nothing!" Damien spat, yanking his arm from her grasp.

"Don't lie to me! She did this, didn't she!" The Angel grabbed Damien's shoulders and shook him. He pushed her away.

"No!" he growled.

The Angel glowered at him. "Lets count the ways she's hurt you, hmm?" The Angel began ticking her points off on her white nailed fingers. "She broke two of your fingers by slamming them in a piano,"

"That was an accident!" Damien exclaimed.
"She dislocated your jaw," The Angel continued, as if he had not said a word, "She broke your nose, she scarred up your back and arms, she got you into drugs, and she's given you more general cuts, bruises, and scratches than found on most major football teams!"

"Angel.." Damien began.

"Oh yeah! And she chipped your tooth!" The Angel finished triumphantly.

Damien turned away, annoyed. "She didn't.."

"Liar."

"Angel!"

"Liar."

"She.."

"Liar."

"But.."

"Liar."

"Ange.."

"Liar."

"Stop!"

"Liar."

"She.."

"Liar."

"ALL RIGHT!" Damien screamed. "Yeah, she pushed me down her freakin' stairs ok? Now leave me alone!" He jumped off the bed and crossed the room to his window. He tore the heavy drapes aside. Blinding sunlight spilled into the room.

The Angel crossed to his side. "Dami, I'm sorry. But now you've said it. She's hurting you. Please, please get away from her." she begged. Damien shook his head silent. "Damien. You're destroying yourself. And your friends. Please. Don't let her hurt you. Please. I love you. I don't want to see you hurt. This has gone on for almost a year now. Please?"

"Fine. I'll talk to her," he sighed.

"You get away from her," The Angel warned.

"Get out so I can think please?" Damien said wearily.

"Fine." The Angel walked slowly to his door. She turned on the threshold. "By the way Alyssa, The Devil, is in the hospital. She took what you said to heart; didn't want to live without you. So think about that. What are you going to do?" She left Damien to his window and his choice.

Copyright me 1998

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