Listen to your own voice, your own soul. Too many people listen to the noise of the world, instead of themselves.

Mae

"Mae, wake up," I heard and rushed to a sitting position. I looked around, using the light that came in my room door from the hallway, and saw Zach standing on the side of my bed. "It's okay. It's okay." I took a deep breath after being scared that he was waking me up for another reason and felt my head pound from being woken up too fast.

"What happened then?" I asked. Zach was right. I hated being scared every time I woke up. I hated feeling like imminent danger was near. I looked at him, waiting for him to answer, and noticed his eyes were closed as he swayed side to side. "Zach?"

"Huh?" He asked when he woke back up, opening his eyes. He looked at me confused and rubbed his eyes. "Damien called."

"Is he okay?" I asked, throwing the blanket off of me and sitting at the edge of my bed, scared that something bad might have happened to Damien.

"He told to me... to tell you... that he texted you," Zach mumbled, half asleep. He laid on my bed, grabbing the blanket and covered himself.

"What do you mean?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrow and grabbed my phone, checking the notifications but there was just one.

Meet me at the beach, where we did our project. -D

"Tell him no," Zach grumbled, half asleep as he peered over my shoulder. I pulled my phone away, and he laid back down, laughing. "He woke me up, he deserves it. Who wakes someone up at one in the morning?" My eyes burned as I blinked and looked at the time.

Meet him at the beach at one in the morning? "You think it's a prank?" I asked him, and he shrugged, being useless as he started falling back to sleep.

I got up and headed to my restroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. After I finished the two tasks, I walked to my closet, thinking of every possibility why Damien would want to talk to me now. Did he want answers and couldn't wait until school? Was he going to yell at me? Was he mad at me?

I got dressed and walked out of my closet. "You're going?" Zach mumbled with his eyes closed, snuggling with my blanket.

"Yeah. Might as well face the rejection... or yelling in person," I told him, and he smiled, half asleep.

"Want me to go with you?" He mumbled, not opening his eyes or making a move to get up.

"No, it's okay. Probably better if I go alone," I told him and grabbed my phone off my nightstand. "Want me to bring your phone, so you can hear your alarm?"

"No, if I don't make it to school..." he trailed off, shrugging his left shoulder as he laid on his right side.

"You have football. Your coach will be mad," I reminded him, and he groaned loudly as he dragged himself off the bed with his arms hanging limply to his side, and shuffled angrily out the door.

"I hate football, I'm dropping out," he snapped, and I laughed, knowing it was the sleep talking. I walked out of my room, toward the front door, and grabbed my keys off the entry table.

I was nervous meeting with Damien. I looked up at the sky as I walked outside and saw the moon and the stars. I kept looking up the entire walk to my car, and the worries and what if's stopped. I unlocked my car and got in, but the thoughts started back up once again. I sighed as I started the car and backed out of the driveway, driving down our dirt path, and toward the beach.

Once I arrived at the beach, I parked a couple of parkings away from a black Jeep and a pale blue, older Honda Civic. I took a deep breath as my heart started to race.

Adrenaline fizzled in my heart, dropping down to my stomach, spreading throughout my entire body, and shook my fingers. I opened my door and got out, pressing down on the lock button with my shaky hand before closing the door. It was dark, the only light was from the moon and the stars that watched over. I took another deep breath and started walking on the trail that led to the sand.

I saw a figure sitting on the sand, looking out toward the waves. As I walked, my feet pressed into the sand, resulting in a squeaky, crunchy sound to disrupt the peaceful sound of the waves colliding into the water. My presence was like a tornado passing through a quiet neighborhood, ripping through houses, and causing havoc.

I was disrupting the peace Damien was in, and that feeling was confirmed when he turned to look at me, hearing the sound my footsteps made, but I looked down, too embarrassed to look at him; too afraid of what he might say or do.

I stood a couple of feet away from him, unsure if I should stand or sit. "I'm sorry for waking you," he apologized, sincerity ringing in his voice as he looked up at me.

"It's okay," I signed. Sleep left my body the moment I knew he texted me. The way the adrenaline took over my body, coursing through my veins as if I was at a dropping point on top of a roller coaster. The corners of his lips tugged back into a small smile.

"Okay," he mimicked the sign I did as he spoke it, and I nodded. "I'm sorry." He signed. I smiled because he knew how to apologize in sign language, he was learning. His smile grew wider at the sight of mine. "Do you wanna walk?"

"Yeah," I nodded, and he started taking off his white shoes. I smiled as I took off my vans.

"I guess I didn't think to not wear white shoes to the beach," he rambled with a smile, and I chuckled through my nose. "Come on." He smiled as he started walking, leaving his shoes, so I left mine. I followed after him, and my smile faded at the reminder that this couldn't be a friendly meeting. I grew scared of what he might say.

I knew he had to of been angry that I kept this secret from him because he was mad at Bennett and Max for knowing and not telling him; when it was clearly not their secret to tell. I was glad they didn't tell him and let me do it. Even if I wasn't planning on telling him, I was glad about the way it happened.

He had to know and now he did. I wouldn't have been able to tell him any other way because if I did, there could have been the chance he might not have believed me. Now he knew, and there was no going back, only forward.

Whatever that may be.

We kept walking, but we made no move to speak. I looked up, and the stars shone brighter now that it was darker where we were. I had always admired the stars for always shining. No matter what, they were always there, day and night they shone. I looked at Damien and saw him look away from me. I smiled as I realized he was looking at me.

"Can we sit?" He asked, and I nodded. He sat down, and I sat cross-legged, a little away from him, not wanting to be in his personal space. Especially, if he were to snap and get angry at me. He turned his head, looking in the back of him at me, and scooted back to sit right next to me. His action confused me because I wasn't sure if he was angry or not. "Can I tell you something?" He whispered softly. His voice wavered, almost as if he was scared or unsure, and it made my heart pound with nervousness.

"Of course," I signed as I nodded. He nodded, taking a deep breath that lifted his entire chest and released it at once. His hands moved to the sand, clenching a handful before releasing the sand back to where it belonged. He brought his hands up, looking at them, and sand was stuck on his entire palm. Were his palms sweaty? Was he nervous? He rubbed his palms together, removing the sand, but then placed them back into the sand.

"My dad use to tell me stories about my mom when I would beg and bother him to tell me," Damien started as he looked down, and a huge smile appeared on his lips at the reminder of his parents. His cheeks squished his eyes half shut from how wide and happily he smiled.

"He would tell me stories about him hiding from my mom, popping out of nowhere, and scaring her. He used to tell me how she would always get scared and then angry at him but would never stay mad at him for long," Damien chuckled at the thought of his parents, and his whole aura was different.

It was lighter and happier than I had ever seen him. He looked carefree and happy talking about his parents. I smiled as I listened to his happy story. 

"My parents were best friends growing up. He always liked her, but he was always too scared to tell her because he didn't know if she had felt the same way for him. She would tell him everything, so he knew her almost as well as she knew herself. She would tell him about the boys she thought were cute, and how guys would ask her out.

"He said he felt guilty at times for telling her to brush them off because she would do it. Except for this one time when a guy asked her out, she said yes, and they dated. My father was sad when that happened, but he didn't do anything about it. My mom and the guy she dated, didn't last long, and they broke up. My dad was there for her when she was going through her first heartbreak.

"He told me he had never truly appreciated my mom until that moment—when he saw her hurting for someone else. He knew it was his fault because he would have never hurt my mom like that. He would have treated her better, loved her more, and would have never broken her heart like her ex had. He wanted to tell her how he felt but didn't again because she had just gotten out of a relationship.

"My dad confessed eventually, and she told him she always had feelings for him. She never said anything because they were best friends and didn't want to ruin that. They ended up dating and after a few years, they got married," Damien smiled, but his smile slowly faded, and his face grew dim. The once light and happy aura grew dark, and the silence that followed became thick.

"A year before I was born, my mom got pregnant. It was the second trimester, but something happened one night when they were sleeping. She woke up bleeding, so they rushed to the hospital, and the doctors gave her the news that she had a miscarriage.

"She told my dad she felt like she failed as a woman. That the one job she was biologically supposed to do as a woman, she failed at," Damien said as he shook his head, glaring at the water. It looked like he had hated the way his mother thought of herself. And it didn't sit right with me either, it wasn't her fault. "She went to a retreat that helped women with issues like this. It was to help them feel... normal, I guess?" He shrugged and shook his head, not knowing.

"My dad didn't really understand what it was, but if it was going to help my mom, he wanted her to do whatever. They spoke every day when they had time, and eventually, they came back. She was better, happier, and mentally healthier.

"She got pregnant again with me. She was in her third trimester this time, and she was getting cravings a lot. It was usually for the same thing, and she would always tell my dad to stock up, but he forgot one time and told her he would pick some up after he got out of work. But that night, he worked later, so she called him because she wanted to go out and get some, but she wanted to know where his debit card was.

"'Are you trying to take my money and run away?' He asked her. He always joked with her and told me she loved it. She loved to laugh, and he loved to hear it," Damien smiled as he recalled the memory his father told him.

"'Of course, why else am I married to you?' She teased back, and he laughed. 'I can't find it, and I want to go to the store to pick up some snacks because someone forgot,' she laughed, and he felt guilty, so he told her he would take a break from his work and go drop some off. He told me she started yelling at him, telling him how important it was that he kept working, and he smiled as he listened to her rant, already sounding like a mother." Damien smiled.

The way Damien spoke and clung to the story about his parents, was as if that was the only thing he had of them, and the longer he spoke about them that way, the more it felt like it was.

"'Fine, I won't leave, if you don't either. I'll pick you up some of your snacks after work. It's just an hour and a half left,' he bargained, and she gave in, but my father knew my mother well. So twenty minutes later, he called her, and she answered.

"He told me he heard honking and then a loud impacting sound of a car crashing. In that split second, she answered her phone call—in that split second, of taking her eyes off the road, she crashed, hitting the concrete median in the road, and her car flipped." My heart dropped as Damien recalled the story about his mom. He looked up at the stars as if he was curious if she was up there.

"'Marie!' My dad called out to my mom, worried, and unsure of what happened. 'Marie!' He called out again. The line was still on, and he heard her groaning and then screaming as she woke up. He heard people calling out and trying to talk to help her.

"Please,' my mom begged. "Please save him,' she prayed, and my father realized she was talking about me," Damien's eyes watered as he clenched his teeth, tears welling, and brimming at the rim of his eyes as he kept glaring at the waves. I picked up my hand but set it back down, unsure of how to comfort him, or if he would have even wanted me to confront him with a touch, but he continued, so I listened.

"She kept crying, begging God to give her time and strengthen to fight and hold on. 'Don't take me yet, please,' she kept begging, and the paramedics came and rushed her to the hospital. The firefighters grabbed the phone and told my dad what hospital they were taking her to, so he rushed there.

"They rushed her to surgery and did an emergency c-section. She held on with everything she had. She fought for her life and mine. I was fine, nothing was wrong, and they gave me to my dad, and he showed my mom. He told me how beautiful she thought I was.

"My beautiful baby boy,' she whispered as she looked at me with a smile," Damien said, and his voice became thicker. The tears from his eyes fell as he failed to hold them back. "'I love you, Damien,' she said, with a big smile, and that was the last thing she had ever said." Damien's voice broke as more tears fell from his eyes.

He lowered his head, shaking it and sniffled, so I scooted closer to him and grabbed his left hand, taking it in mine, and squeezing. He waited, taking a few deep breaths and wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand. He cleared his throat and continued.

"My dad told me the story, explaining it the way I just did with you because he wanted me to know that she wanted me to live. It was always me she wanted to save. She wouldn't have wanted to live if I wouldn't have either. It was always me before her.

"I remember sitting in my room after he told me and crying, wondering why the world took her from me, from my dad. Why? Why not take me instead?" He said and wiped his eyes again, taking a few shaky breaths in and out. His breathing steadied, and he started speaking again.

"I got pretty reckless with Ryder and Bennett during our tween years," he chuckled and sniffled. "We did some things, started a few problems that upset a lot of people, and two years ago, a man got his payback," Damien whispered as he nodded, but I was confused about what payback he was talking about.

"It was a little over a year after my mom passed away, and my dad threw himself into his work. He had raised me that entire year by himself but eventually, he had to go back to work. My dad was a lawyer. That's the kind of work he did, and this woman became his client because she was suing her husband and divorcing him.

"Her case took a long time, and they kept spending time together. Eventually, she won her case and came back to his office to bring him a gift, but it had led to other things," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, and I smiled because of how awkward he became at what he was implying happened.

"A couple of months later, she showed up again and told him she was pregnant. He wasn't sure if it was his... or they," Damien laughed, and my heart skipped a beat at the realization he was implying. "Triplets ran in her DNA. He didn't think she would lie, so he told her to stay at his house for a while... because he was scared of history repeating itself. The women helped raise me as she was pregnant. She had thought it would be good practice. After the triplets were born, my dad said he knew they were his. They had the same eye color, we all got it from our dad."

He grew quiet, and I wasn't sure if he was finished telling me about himself or if something was wrong. I never knew the triplets and Damien had different moms. He removed his hand from mine, and I realized they were sweaty, so I wiped them on my jeans.

He looked at me, and my heart pounded in my chest, anxiety falling into my stomach as I saw his eyes shining from the tears that were in his eyes. He looked into my eyes, searching for something. I wasn't sure what it was, but the eye contact became too much, and I looked away, feeling shy.

"I need to tell you something, something I did, and I don't know how you'll take it. Or how you'll think of me," he whispered softly, fear thick, and wavering in his voice.

"Okay," I told him, nodding as I squeezed his hand again. I had no idea what he was going to tell me or why, but I intended on being here while he did and listen to his storytelling for as long as he told it. He took a shaky breath in, releasing it at once, and began speaking.

"I was sleeping when I felt someone grab me and put something over my head that made it hard to breathe and hard to see. I thought it was my brothers messing with me, so I started fighting back until they hit the side of my head with something hard. After that, I knew something was wrong. My body reacted, not giving me time to choose fight or flight, and instead, chose the third option, and I froze.

"My heart started racing, adrenaline coursed through my body, trying to wake me up and allow me to fight, but I couldn't. I couldn't move, I couldn't talk, I couldn't think. My heart was racing, terror filling my body and shaking me. I heard my dad talking to us, telling us it was going to be okay, but I knew it wasn't.

"They took the bag, or blindfold, or whatever it was off my head, and I saw my family. My brothers together, lined up in front of me to my right, and my dad and stepmom, lined up in front of me to my left. They had their hands behind their back as they looked at me, all with tears in their eyes.

"I didn't though. I didn't know why I wasn't crying. I had kept wondering, what was wrong with me? Why wasn't I crying as I saw my family kneeling before me in execution-style with terror and tears in their eyes?

"'Choose,' a man's voice in the back of me spoke.

"'What?' I asked as I shook my head, confused by what he wanted me to do. 'No, I'm not gonna choose-' he hit me on the side of the head, interrupting me from speaking because he didn't like the way I had disrespected him by telling him no. He kicked the back of my knee, pushing me down, and made me look at my family. They were crying, scared, and terrorized about what was going to happen.

"Choose. Your parents or your brothers?' The man in the back of me asked. Hatred and darkness are what the man in the back of me felt like. Power and authority are what he held as he ordered me to choose. I knew he was in charge, but I couldn't understand why he was doing this. Why the men standing in the back of my family, would follow a man like this?!" Damien asked as he raised his voice. He furrowed his eyebrows, squinting his eyes in anger and confusion.

"'Please, leave them out of this,' my father begged, and the man laughed. 'This is between you and me!'

"'Not anymore!' The man shouted, anger and hatred filling his voice.

"'He has nothing to do with this!' My father shook his head, tugging on the restraints that were in the back of him.

"'Don't you understand, Dean, this has everything to do with him,' the man in the back of me spoke to my father, calling him his name, and that confused me. This wasn't a robbery like the news made it out to be. The man knew my father, had a vendetta against him, but I had no idea why. 'Choose... or I'll choose for you, and I'll leave you an orphan and brother-less.'"

My heart was racing as Damien recalled the night before he left. This was what happened? The news had made it look like a robbery gone bad and turned into a double homicide. Why didn't he tell the cops what really happened? Why didn't anyone else know about this? The feelings in my chest surged through me, and I felt terrible about what Damien and his brothers had gone through.

"I knew my choice... but I wanted to save my dad too. I started shaking my head, but the man grabbed me. 'Fine,' the man started, and I began to worry about what he might say. 'I'll tell you what? I'm not entirely evil. I can be nice,' He chuckled, but everything in his voice and presence said the opposite. This man was not nice, he had no heart. 'Choose one to save.'

"I looked at my stepmom, and she nodded, tears falling from her eyes as she kept nodding, knowing the choice I would make. 'I love you, boys,' she told us, looking at each of us. 'Thank you for loving me, for showing me my worth, and for giving me a purpose,' she told all of us.

"'Don't!" Deacon shouted at me as he shook his head. "Don't do it, Damien! Don't!' Declan and Dylan were crying as they looked at our mom, knowing they were going to lose her. I looked at her, and she nodded, forcing a small smile, trying to show me she wasn't scared, but the look in her eyes said otherwise. She took a deep breath, preparing herself, and she whispered, 'do it.'

"'Say the words, Damien,' the man encouraged.

"And you'll let my dad live?' I asked, and my brothers cried harder at my words, and my dad told me no. He didn't want my mom to die if that meant he got to live. The man told me yeah, so I looked back at my mom. 'I love you, mom. I'm sorry.' She nodded, tears falling, and I said the words as I closed my eyes. 'Save my dad.'

"Boom," Damien whispered as his eyes were round and filled with tears. He was staring at the sand ahead of him in a daze, and I knew he was watching the memory unfold in his head. "Silence. That's what was heard, after the sound of a shot firing. The silence before the storm... and then havoc. My brothers started screaming, my dad yelling at the man in the back of me, promising his revenge, and my ears ringing from how close I heard the sound. Deacon shuffled on his knees to my mom screaming and begging.

"'Mom, wake up! Wake up! You have to wake up, mom!' He cried to her, not believing what happened. The man that was in the back of my brothers grabbed him, dragging him back to where he was supposed to be. Deacon kept fighting, so the man smacked him across the head with his pistol, and my brother passed out.

"'Chose again,' the man said, and my body filled with dread. He lied to me, and I wanted to kill him. I had never wanted to strangle someone so much in my entire life. I wanted to squeeze the life out of his neck with my bare hands and watch him suffer," Damien admitted as he removed his hand from mine and curled his fingers in anger. He glared at the sand and fisted his hands before continuing again.

"'It's okay, Damien,' my dad told me, and I shook my head. I didn't want to lose my dad too. I didn't want to lose another parent because of me.

"'It's a simple choice,' the man spoke. 'Three lives versus one, Damien. Which one do you want to kill?' I wished he would have asked which one to save. Not that it really made a difference, but maybe it would have felt less coldhearted? I don't know." Damien shook his head, a tired look took over his face as shrugged, looking at the sand in a daze. He took another deep breath and released it.

"'I love you, boys,' my father told us. He looked at me, straightening his back, trying to look brave, and nodded once, but I shook my head quickly, not wanting to say those words. My father looked at me, a sad smile on his face, and spoke the last words my mom had spoke when she had me. 'My beautiful baby boy. I love you, Damien.'"

Damien pulled his knees to his face as his body started shaking, silently crying, and I pulled him toward me as tears fell from my eyes as they had been the entire time. My heart ached for him, I had no idea how much pain he had gone through. He stayed crying in my arms, so I held onto him tightly. After a few moments, he held his breath and pulled away before releasing his breath. He used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his eyes and sniffled several times, trying to clear his nose.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and then under my chin, where the tears traveled to. He looked at me with his red, shiny eyes and more tears fell. "I needed to tell you that," he told me as he nodded slowly. I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around his neck, and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me back tightly. He rested his chin on my left shoulder and inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath. "Do... do you look at me differently?" He asked timidly, and I pulled away, keeping my hands on his shoulders, and furrowed my eyebrows as I shook my head.

Is that what he thought? Why would anyone look at him differently because of the trauma and terrible things he had gone through? I looked at him as he looked at me, searching my eyes as I searched over his features. His grey eyes were red, his cheeks puffy, and stained with streaks of tears. His full lips were puffy and red. I looked back to his eyes, and they were looking at my lips. I pulled away, dropping my arms, scared of why he was looking there and shook my head.

I wanted to tell him that I didn't see him differently, but I couldn't. Mitch's voice in my head appeared, screaming at me, and blaming me for everything. His voice tore me down and made me scared of even thinking of talking to Damien.

"I wanted to tell you because maybe if I was honest with you, you would have told me about you being the King," Damien spoke as he looked at me.

"I'm sorry," I signed, and he nodded as he looked down, but what I told him wasn't enough. After everything he had told me, he deserved more than that. I didn't want him to regret telling me everything he had told me. Everything around me became silent. The sound of the waves crashing, faded, and the end of Damien's sniffling, became silent but then noise erupted in my head. A voice consuming and taking over everything.

I should have killed you when I had the chance. Mitch's voice echoed. I won't hurt him, Mae, if you keep quiet. I promise.

I looked ahead of me, and there he was, angry and ready to beat me again. Everything around me vanished. The beach was no longer there and was taken over by my room, and Damien no longer sat next to me. I was alone. I was the scared child I once was.

But for the first time, the feeling of not wanting to be that scared child became stronger. It was the one feeling that was dominant; stronger than all the other feelings. I didn't want to be scared, that's not who I wanted to be. I wanted to the King, known and feared; respected and never looked down on.

I never merged the two; the tormenter and the tormented because I was always scared of being fully consumed by the darkness it took to be the King. The darkness I brought with me in the ring and ravishing in the feeling of beating someone down and picturing it as Mitch.

I didn't want that darkness, but I never got a choice. It was constant; like the stars, always there, day and night, never leaving or disappearing. I don't see it, but it's there.

It was his fault I never got a choice in that darkness. It was the anger he made me feel and want to release. I watched as Mitch came to me, ready with his fist, and the anger Damien talked about came back to me, surging through my entire body, making me want to strangle the so-called-man before me.

I was sick and tired of being tied down by the man who had restraint me. I was tired of being owned.

I wanted to be free.

He was dead, yet he was still controlling me. When was I going to be set free?!

Never, Mae. I own you! Mitch's voice rang, but I shook my head as he came close to me. I knew he wasn't real. My father, Mitch, wouldn't have hesitated to hit me if I disrespected him by shaking my head, by telling him no. He would have struck me down and gave me a lesson on respect.

No. I told him in my head, and he rushed to me, but I closed my eyes, not giving in, and bracing myself for the impact. I denied him, and I knew he was infuriated. I denied his hold on me. I was sick and tired of it. You don't own me anymore. You're dead, and I'm free!

You will never be free! He spat, angrily. I will always have a hold on you!

I had hated how true that was. I opened my eyes and saw him glaring inches from me, hatred filling his eyes. I shook my head again, defying him. It's what made him the angriest. I watched as I refused to allow the fear he brought course through me. I refuse to be tormented by him anymore.

I watched as he slowly disappeared, never able to hurt me again, never able to raise his fist toward my brother and I, and never being able to own me ever again. I won't allow it. You've lived your life, now it's time to live mine.

He disappeared, and I closed my eyes, feeling relieved. Once I opened my eyes, I saw the waves. I could hear them crashing and colliding on each other, and the stars and moon brought back the light. Damien's warm presence was felt again, and I looked at him as he was running his hands over the sand.

"I'm not mad at you," Damien whispered, "for keeping it a secret. I know you have secrets, secrets you don't want anyone to know, besides Zach. I just kept thinking... maybe if you trusted me, you would have told me. I just wish you trusted me to know those secrets." He turned his head to the right, away from me, and looked at the waves.

You're worthless!

This is why she left... because of you!

My father's words tried reaching me again, but I pushed them out; only hearing my own thoughts and Zach's.

Baby steps.

Trust him, Mae.

Trust yourself.

"I do trust you," I whispered. He turned his head so fast and looked at me with his mouth open, and his eyes wide. That was the first time I spoke to anyone that wasn't my brother or my father in over ten years. And it felt so right.

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A/N: There it is! Mae finally spoke! I'm so happy to have finally written it. It's the excerpt that's in the description from my story.

How did you feel reading this chapter?

Have you ever gone to the beach before?