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“She was ours,” he breathes out, his eyes narrowing on me and nostrils flared. “And then you treat her like fucking shit before keeping her all to yourself? That’s fucked up!”
“She was never ours,” I yell. “Emily was always mine! You just never saw it. The only reason she walked away is because she didn’t want to hurt you. But I won’t let it happen again. You need to fucking accept it.”
He’s on me again, both our bodies dropping to the ground with a heavy thud, his fist catching my jaw again in a punch that is hard enough to stun.
“It’s not fair! Why is it you always come out on top? You get Emily? You don’t have the shit beat out of you as bad? You’re not fucking tortured? Why the fuck am I the one always losing in this?”
Another hit and I realize Damon isn’t just fighting me about Emily. He isn’t just angry about a beautiful redhead neither of us can let go. He’s angry aboutall of it, about years of abuse that he keeps trapped in his head and refuses to let out.
He needs to let it go. Needs to release all that built up aggression and hatred.
The truth is I’m not the one you have to worry about when it comes down to the two of us. Where I was able to hide behind a shield of cold fury, Damon couldn’t escape.
Always more easy going, always more open with how he felt, Damon suffered not only what was done to him, but also what he continues to do to himself.
He punches me again, and I wrap my arms around him to hold him to me, both to prevent another punch, but also because I’m sorry.
Sorry because I couldn’t stop what was done to him. Sorry because I fell in love with the one woman who could ever help him. Sorry that I can’t give him any other outlet than violence to let all his anger out.
“You haven’t lost.”
“I didn’t get Emily,” he growls as he struggles to break my hold on him.
“You never had her in the first place, Damon. And I’m sorry you didn’t know that.”
“Fuck.”
He finally stops fighting as that word rolls over his mouth, both of us laying on the floor in a crumpled heap.
Now is probably the wrong time to mention that I need him to talk to her and tell her being with me is all right. But that’s what it will come down to eventually.
Emily will never allow us to fight over her again. I already know she’s going to be pissed about this.
Emily will just have to understand this is how it is with us. I know she hates the bruises, the cuts, the marks that stain our skin with the evidence of what our lives have been.
But this fight, this moment, isn’t just about her, it’s about finally stepping up like I should have done a long time ago to make Damon face what’s been done so he can finally learn to let go.
I love my brother. I’ll do anything for him. But I feel helpless when it comes to pulling him out of this nightmare.
“We done fighting?” I ask, my arms still locked around him.
He laughs, one bark of sound that shakes his shoulders.
“If I promise not to hit you again will you stop hugging me?”
My head rolls back against the floor. “Yeah.”
“Fine.”
I let Damon go, and he pushes away from me, both of us sitting up to lean against the cabinets at our back, our faces swollen and bloody.
Fuck. Emily is going to lose her shit when she sees me again.
Catching my breath, I eye Damon warily. He may have stopped fighting, but he’s still raging where he sits, his jaw tight, every muscle in his body hard. He leans his head back, his throat moving to swallow.
Instead of filling the silence, I wait for what he has to say.
You can always feel him, his thoughts, his emotions, like a storm of chaos constantly swirling, a tornado spinning so fast that you’re helpless but to be caught in its fury.