Page 42 of Tear Me Down (Descent to Darkness Trilogy #2)

Chapter eighteen

Ashia

Five Days Later

‘Damocles’ – Sleep Token

The rain beats on the front window of Cut Me Down, adding some ambiance to the quiet space.

Even as Charlie walks in the door and greets everyone loudly, the hollow background is deafening.

It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve heard from Ser, and every hour feels like a year.

Her presence is missed everywhere I go, replaced by a ghost of my past that has joined the others to haunt every step I take.

I tried giving her space, I really did, but after the news of having a brother was dumped on me like a bucket of freezing water, I couldn’t take it.

Call after call was ignored, and even though I haven’t trauma-dumped in the messages I sent, I’ve begged for her to talk to me.

To give me any sign other than Damien’s tracking that she’s still alive, but nothing.

Not a single word, and every message that’s ignored just proves how low I’ve truly fallen in her mind.

There has never been a moment when I thought I would have to live without her.

Even when I think about the future, and we’re old and gray, it would always be me dying before her.

We’ve had fights before, sure, but nothing like this.

I feel almost hollow without her, and while I know two weeks isn’t much time comparatively, it’s killing me.

The walls don’t echo with her loud voice, her laughter no longer accompanies mine, and her smile doesn’t overtake the room anymore.

Everything seems so dull now, and I practically crave to hear her again.

“This is the fifth day I haven’t seen that beautiful smile of yours, Ashia, and you’re lucky I’m a patient man.” Charlie playfully scolds me as he takes his seat—pointing that old, shaky finger in my direction like it holds any weight.

“Sorry, Charlie. It’s just a gloomy day, I suppose.” I grin softly at him and finish cleaning my station.

“It’s not a problem at all, dear. I’m just trying to put a little more pep in your step,” he responds cheerfully, but a low grumble sounds from across the room.

I look at the end of the waiting area in Zeke’s direction, but ignore him and look past at Robert sitting behind him.

The scowl that normally resides on his face is stronger today, and he’s clearly in a sour mood.

Normally I would try to cheer him up or at least bring him back to a place of indifference, but I don’t think I have that in me today.

I can’t help but look over at Zeke, and I know he’s avoiding me as much as I am him.

Damien insisted that he and Alex switch places, but they have different skill sets, and it would require more work for Damien to change out patrols, so I told him not to worry about it.

I can put my feelings aside long enough to get through the day, but now the silence between us is deafening again, and definitely more awkward.

He's been staring at his phone constantly today, and if it wasn’t for the worried look on his face, I would think he was doing it on purpose to continue avoiding me.

But something feels off—tensions at the Attic have been high and I know that all of DH can feel it.

I haven’t listened to the podcast since my fight with Ser, but I can only imagine how much worse things have gotten over the past couple of weeks.

Damien has been out more and more, his expertise obviously in need, and while this is nothing new to me, I can feel his absence now more than ever.

It's nothing he’s doing, or not doing, I should say.

Every chance he gets, he tells me how much he loves me, and he always takes time to respond to me when he’s not with me—but I can’t help the lonely pit that I feel in my chest lately.

Somehow I feel isolated when he’s not near me, even though I’m almost never alone.

“Are you going to get to me at some point today, or are you going to continue to zone out like a traumatized puppy?” Robert spits from his lips, directing my attention back to him.

He’s always been rude, but he really seems to be on another level today.

I nod and gesture him over to the chair only to watch him practically stomp like a child.

Zeke glances up from his phone and looks at Robert like he spit at me, but I ignore it and turn my attention ‘where it should be.’

“Okay, are we switching to your summer cut, or are we still doing your business casual?” I ask as I drape the cutting cape around him, imagining myself choking him with the buttons around his neck the moment he huffs.

“Did I ask you to do anything different?” He narrows his eyes, and his lip hikes up in a curl of disgust—as if talking to him wasn’t permitted and I had the audacity to do so anyway.

I want to snap back and remind him that he is the one that comes in to see me , but I grit my teeth and swallow back my response, knowing that self-control is the best idea here.

“I just wanted to make sure,” I say blankly and move to grab my shears, remembering the way I stabbed a man to death with a pair almost exactly like these and getting an itch on my palm.

I can’t kill him. Not that I really want to, but I do feel myself getting hot again.

It seems that the slightest agitation has me reeling lately, and his disrespectful mouth is no exception.

I hate that I'm so fucking quiet, so meek that I can't even think of a way to retaliate.

A way to fight back. Some action to show that I don't deserve to be talked to this way or treated like the dirt under his pristine loafers. Granted, killing him or physically harming him is not the right way to show him that, but somehow, that’s where my mind automatically went.

This is what Serena was talking about…and maybe she was right. Am I a danger to people?

The moment I move to trim the hair around his ears, he jerks away and scrunches his face, making me worry for a moment if I wounded him somehow. When I notice that the only redness on his ear is from the anger on his face, my concern turns into fury—completely casting out my previous thoughts .

“Did you not just hear what came out of my mouth?! I knew you were daft, but to be this asinine is truly an achievement,” he seethes and settles back in the chair like a child throwing a tantrum.

This is the exact same cut we normally do.

Just because he’s always buried in his phone and doesn’t pay attention doesn’t mean that I’m the one in the wrong here.

Rage and disappointment flood my heart at the same time, waging a war with one another and fighting to the death.

The volume of his voice immediately makes me want to cower and crawl under a bed, much like I would do when I was a child and heard my father screaming from downstairs.

Though, that thought only enrages me more, and I can feel the build climbing to a point of no return—anger winning the brawl.

There's no reason for Robert to treat me this way.

Especially after years of cutting his hair and being the good, compliant girl he always expects me to be when he walks in with his shitty attitude and rude comments.

A fake smile is always plastered on my face, and I always tiptoe around him because I'm normally so intimidated by him anyway.

Damien has shown me that I don't always need to be the good girl, though—the one that fakes it until she makes it.

A doll shoved into the corner for a pretty display.

I've lived my whole life cowering behind a shield, kept my head down and didn't cause any waves, but not anymore.

I'm allowed to be as loud and problematic as I want, and I'm about to let myself off of my leash.

Everything is building up and charging in my chest, creating the shakiness in my hands that I’m determined to control. I squeeze my hands together and take a deep breath, pausing a moment before I snap—literally feeling like I’m falling off the edge or bursting through a doorway.

“You know what, Robert? Get the fuck out.” I set my shears down on my station, yank the cape apart and tear it off of him—not giving a single care for the surprised and appalled look on his face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he yells out and I step aside, no longer in fear, but to gesture him out of the damn door.

“Telling you to get out of my chair and get out of the shop. Even with how daft I am, I don’t think I stuttered!” I shout back at him, surprised by the adrenaline coursing through me. The shakiness is still there, but it’s more of a quake. One that’s violent and desperate to be let out.

“You can’t be serious!” he yells as he stands, and I can feel the moment every eye in the store turns on us—whether it fuels me or drags me down, I can’t tell.

“She’s completely serious.” I hear Zeke back me up, and while I appreciate his support, it only makes me angrier.

Just because we found out we’re blood related doesn’t make him my brother.

He’s only here to protect me from physical threats from Dust, not to fight my battles for me.

I didn’t need him for the past twenty-five years, and I certainly don’t now.

“Back off, Zeke! I don’t need your help!” I snap at him, only to turn around back to Robert. “I said get the fuck out!”

“Whoa, whoa! What is going on over here?” Emmett asks frantically as he walks over, holding his hands up like he’s approaching two wild animals.

“I’m sick of his degrading remarks and pretentious attitude, so I told him to get out.”

“Emmett, she’s clearly emotional and unhinged. I understand that she’s had a rough few weeks, but her behavior is clearly unacceptable.” Robert’s tone is suddenly calm and laced with faux concern, obviously trying to turn the tables and present me as a deranged woman.