DAMIEN

 

Three years later

 

 

I started to travel around the world not too long after coming to America. In three years’ time, I’d seen Australia, Paris, New York, Florence, the Grand fucking Canyon and those were just to name a few. I visited every place she ever wanted to see, my memory of her being my only companion. Wanting to escape the reality of my actions, seeking solace with every mile I traveled alone. I finally had the freedom she always wanted, always prayed for, and always knew she deserved. Yet, I felt like more of a prisoner now than I had in my entire life.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. 

I was thirty-one years old, having to see the world without her by my side was a life far worse than fucking death. I walked aimlessly around the streets of Amsterdam alone, taking in yet another city she always wanted to visit. Somehow feeling closer to her even though I knew she was so far away. It was the only time I felt alive, living day to day with the constant reminders of the things I could never change was just another burden I carried with me.

A relentless torture of love and hate.

I was fully aware I sounded like a love-sick puppy, a pussy-whipped bitch, but you wanted honesty and this had become my reality. My only form of humanity would continue to be her. It always had been and nothing would ever change that. Don’t confuse my vulnerability toward her for anything other than what it was. I was still a fucking monster and nothing would ever change that either.

I swear there were times when I could touch her, feel her, breathe her in. She was everywhere. Her presence filling the void all around me, but all that was left of us were echoes, and echoes eventually faded away. Disappearing like dust in the wind. It felt as if it had only been a moment, a lifetime, trying to remember as if I could forget.

Anything.

Everything.

Her.

“Damien, do you know who Anne Frank is?” Amira asked from my couch, looking up from her history book.

“Yes, Muñeca, I know who she is,” I replied, turning the page in the book I was reading.

“Will you take me to Amsterdam? I want to see where she lived with her family when they were in hiding from the Nazis.”

Peering up at her through the slits of my eyes, I narrowed them at her. “Why?”

Even though she smiled, there was still a hint of sadness behind her young, tainted stare. “She was just like us, Damien. Trapped in a life she never wanted by an evil man who tried to kill her spirit, but that never stopped her from believing in the greater good. I want to go to the place they hid and tell her I believe in it too. And because of that, we escaped our prison.”

I jerked back, speechless by her revelation. She was barely twelve-years-old and more insightful than anyone I’d ever met. “Amira—”

“I know you don’t believe, but it’s okay,” she assertively chimed in, already aware of what I was going to say. “I believe enough for the both of us. We will get out of Cuba and away from Emilio Salazar, to live a life of freedom. I know we will because you won’t ever stop until it happens. So just promise me you’ll take me there, okay? I want to leave her a rose to thank her for being brave like us.”

I reluctantly nodded, unable to form the words to lie to her. 

I was so engrossed in my memories, by the splitting pain in my chest, and the agonizing demons on my shoulders, I didn’t even realize I was sitting at a bar, until the bartender asked, “What will it be, man?” breaking me away from my thoughts.

I quickly glanced around the dark, secluded room where only a few people were sitting on a couch, talking. “Where am I?”

“An underground club. You alright, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I didn’t pay him any mind because out of the corner of my eye, I caught the other bartender opening what appeared to be a candy wrapper with brown crystal powder inside. She didn’t even try to be discreet when she slipped the substance into the guy’s drink, handing it over to him with a knowing smile spread across her face.

I arched an eyebrow, looked back over at my bartender and nodded to the guy next to me. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

The man laughed, “You don’t want to know what it is?”

“Where’s the fucking fun in that?”

I watched as he mixed the same substance in my drink before he slid it across the bar toward me. In one fast swig, I downed the amber liquid immediately squinting my eyes as I blew out the strong taste of liquor. The stinging, bitter aftertaste that I knew must have been the drug, burned its way down my chest.

His eyes widened, chuckling, “Man, you’re going to be so fucked up. You are supposed to sip, not take it down in one gulp. That’s pure MDMA, it’s not cut up. Not like that bullshit you guys call Ecstasy or Molly over in the States. I suggest you start drinking some water.” He threw me a cold bottle. “This shit is going to hit you hard and fast.”

I hadn’t really experimented with drugs until I got to the States. I’d snorted blow a few times while I was in Cuba, but nothing compared to the shit the Colombian’s were transporting into Miami. The same shit I had my dirty fucking hands in as well. Dabbling in a little bit of this and that, but always staying under the radar. 

What did real cocaine make you feel like? Well, it made you feel like snorting more cocaine, which was why I didn’t partake very often. I hated chasing the high, it wasn’t my vibe. As far as Molly and Ecstasy were concerned, it was a club drug, I never tried till this very moment. What’s the saying? When in Rome and all that shit… Mostly, I just wanted to forget.

Her.

Them.

Me.

I hid behind the only thing that would let me get away with everything and anything.

The law.

Political corruption was all I’d ever known—there was no reason for me to change my profession. I just didn’t want to be under Emilio Salazar’s thumb anymore. I couldn’t fucking do it, not for one more day. I spent a decade of my life bowing down to that piece of shit, knowing I was always meant to do something more, to be a leader, never a fucking follower. Proving myself day in and day out. I came to the States to divide and conquer.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Except, evil didn’t always hide in the shadows, in the darkness like I did in Cuba. Most of the time, it was out in the open, in plain fucking sight. Possessing the man, you’d least expect. Who everyone thought…

Was just a Saint here on Earth.

I worked closely with the U.S. Attorney General, taking top priority cases for the U.S. and on the side, I represented my own clients. I was currently in the process of starting up my own firm. At the end of the day, all that mattered was how fucking clean I kept my hands, and mine were fucking spotless.

“Any last words?” I questioned through slightly jittery eyes. He was right the MDMA already started hitting my bloodstream.

“Welcome to Amster-fucking-dam, the city of drugs and whores. Just close your eyes, buddy, and enjoy the ride.”

“There is no rest for the wicked.” I grinned, turned, and vacated the stool I’d occupied for who knows how long. Making my way toward wherever the night would lead me, straight down the goddamn rabbit hole. I felt like I was walking on water, invisible like fucking God. An unfamiliar tingling sensation crept up and down my spine as I strolled through a bright, neon hallway in the same building with flashing lights. Fucking with my sensory perception. Trying to make it to the next room where heavy beats of music were coming from.

At one point, I tried to reach out and touch the beams of light just to see if they were real, or if my mind was playing tricks on me. The closer I got to where the music was thumping loud against the speakers, the more my heart hammered against my chest. The beats and the melodies felt like they were a part of me. Demanding movement from every fiber in my body.

I found myself needing to take a deep breath, which only made my whole body tingle more, my nerve endings sprinting alive as I continued my journey down the black hole. With every step I took down the long corridor, I listened intently to the rhythm of the night coursing through my veins and pumping in my blood. From the moment I stepped into the two-story building, I took in my surroundings. Everything from the blinking lights to the neon strobes, strumming around every corner. The lights forming halos and tracers when they moved to the beat, beaming over the crowd. Or at least that’s what I saw.

My world was spinning off its axis. All the colors and movements felt like kaleidoscopic art, shifting around, everything becoming brighter and more alive with each passing second. I watched an alternate universe come to life through high-definition eyes, in a way I never had before. I knew my pupils must have been so fucking dilated to be able to see so clearly. With the DJ spinning and the lights pulsating all around me, it felt like the crowd and I were now connected from the vibration of the music.

Every beat, every drop, every lyric... we were right there with him. I closed my eyes like all the other fucked up people dancing their asses off, leaning their heads back toward the ceiling, letting the melody of the music take us over. Beating into my body, mind, and soul. I had my eyes closed for more than a few seconds, savoring the euphoria surging through me. Riding the high for as long as I could.

Minutes…

Hours…

Days…

It all blended together, not having any sense of real time. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so fucking free. The crowd of the club only got louder, heavier, deeper. I don’t know how long I stood there swaying my hips, watching people dance. Loving life, living in the moment, letting the drugs swallow them whole.

Not a care in this fucked up world.

A sudden insatiable urge to connect with someone fell deeply over my mind, almost knocking me on my ass. I was still zooming by the time I decided to wander, welcoming the cold breeze against my overly-heated skin. The frigid night air did nothing to stop my curiosity, if anything it made it stronger. I started to bar hop, randomly talking to people as if I’d known them for years. Smoking cigarettes and weed which sent me down a completely different hole, having the time of my fucking life.

At one point, I somehow ended up in an alleyway with flashing red lights coming from each side. Like a moth drawn to a fucking flame, I made my way toward the crowds of tourists gathering on the narrow street. Once I got closer, I quickly realized there were women dressed in nothing but lingerie, provocatively posing behind their own glass enclosures. They looked like birds in glass cages.

Yet another prison.

Out of nowhere, out of pure instinct, emotion, and feeling, I felt her before I saw her.  She appeared out of thin air right before my very eyes.

A goddamn angel behind clear glass.

My angel…