Chapter 6: Why Do You Hate Me This Much?

Elena's POV

I took a step back, my eyes wide.

Oh God. Why is he here?

My heart was slamming so hard it hurt. I retreated into the kitchen with the tray shaking in my hands, because I knew those footsteps. I would know them anywhere.

Damien.

His eyes stayed on me, sharp as a hawk's, tracking every move I made. He filled the doorway, his tall frame throwing a long shadow across the tiles. For a second I couldn't read his face. Then he laughed, short and mocking.

"Hahaha! Why are you backing away? Do I stink now or what?"

The sneer in his voice made my skin crawl.

"Don't come any closer," I said, gripping the tray tighter.

One eyebrow lifted. He was enjoying this.

"Who is it, dear?" Mrs. Brown stepped out from the back, drying her hands on a towel.

The moment she saw him, she straightened up.

"Good evening, young master."

"Good evening, Mrs. Brown." He gave her a small nod, then turned back to me. "I'd like a moment alone with her, if you don't mind."

Alone? Why? What does he want from me?

Mrs. Brown looked at me, and our eyes met. I must have looked terrified, because something in her face shifted. I wanted to grab her hand and beg her not to go, but the words got stuck in my throat.

She turned back to him.

"Yes, young master."

And just like that, she was gone.

My stomach dropped.

I rushed after her, desperate to get out before he could start anything.

"And where do you think you're going?"

I didn't even have time to answer. His hand closed around my forearm.

"Ahhh!"

The tray slipped from my fingers and crashed onto the floor, food scattering across the tiles. I just stood there staring at the mess.

Then his voice cut through the silence.

"Good! Now you've got nothing to eat. And how dare you waste my food?"

I raised my eyes to his face.

The hatred was still there, written all over him, as if I were the most disgusting thing he had ever seen.

"Let go of me, you monster!" I snapped.

I had promised myself I would never cry in front of him again. I'd swallowed enough humiliation to last a lifetime, and I wasn't going to hand him the satisfaction of watching me fall apart.

Still, one tear slipped down my cheek anyway.

I tried to pull my arm free, but he only held on tighter.

"You think you can talk to me however you like now, huh?" His jaw tightened, rage flaring in his eyes. "I'm going to make your freaking life miserable!"

I stared at him, and slowly my fear gave way to anger.

"Why do you hate me this much?" I asked, dragging up whatever courage I had left. "My very existence has made your life a pleasure to ruin! What else do you want to do to me that you haven't done already?"

Neither of us spoke.

The air felt thick, and all I could hear was my own uneven breathing.

Damien stepped closer.

I backed away on instinct, but the sharp pain between my legs flared up, and my knees nearly buckled. I reached for the wall to hold myself up.

"Ahhh," I whispered.

I pressed my lips together. He would not see how much it hurt.

But Damien was watching.

Another tear rolled down as I fought to stay on my feet.

"Stop coming closer," I whispered.

He tilted his head, studying the way I stood.

"Oh, I see. Someone's having trouble walking."

I ignored him.

I had nothing left for another fight. Carefully, I edged past him, crouched down, and started picking up what I could of my food from the floor.

"Wow, now she's ignoring me. The nerve."

I said nothing.

When I'd gathered what I could, I pushed myself up and began limping toward the exit.

I'd barely gone a few steps when Damien was suddenly in front of me.

"Hey! I'm still talking to you!"

I grabbed the wall again and bit the inside of my cheek so the pain wouldn't show on my face.

"Let go of me, Damien. What did I do wrong this time?" I said weakly, leaning back against the wall.

He just looked at me.

Then, out of nowhere, his expression changed.

"Are you okay?"

I froze.

In all my years in this house, I had never heard Damien ask me that.

I must be imagining things. He can't really be asking if I'm okay.

He stepped closer, and my body went rigid.

But there was something different in his eyes, a flicker of feeling I had never seen aimed at me before.

"Does it still hurt that much?" he asked again.

I blinked at him, stunned.

"Damien, are you okay?" I asked carefully.

He ran a hand through his hair, and he looked almost uncomfortable.

I couldn't make sense of it. A minute ago he was swearing to ruin my life, and now he was asking about my pain.

What kind of game is this?

"Look, please," I said, lowering my eyes. "I haven't eaten anything since morning. At least let me eat."

I tried to slip past him again.

This time he caught my hand.

"Let's get you something more nutritious."

I stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Why is he acting like this?

And then, uninvited, a memory pushed its way in.

I was seventeen again.

I'd been feeling sick that day, and Damien, who hardly ever let Mrs. Brown give me anything to eat, had surprised me by making a meal himself.

His friends Diego and Sam had come over that afternoon.

Strangest of all, Damien had let me sit on his couch in the living room, a place I was always forbidden to sit. I'd perched there quietly, hoping that just this once he might be kind.

When he handed me the food, I took it without a second thought.

I never knew he'd put something in it that I was allergic to.

The reaction started soon after.

Instead of helping me, Damien stood and watched me struggle, and he wouldn't even give me water. Diego and Sam laughed so hard they could barely breathe.

I remembered the shame, the helplessness, and how cruel it all was.

I had never forgotten it.

Not for a single day.

And now he wanted to cook for me again?

I shook my head right away.

"No, thank you, sir. I don't need you to make anything for me. I'm fine with the Golden Morn I have here."

I eased my hand out of his and turned away.

Damien didn't stop me.

I kept limping down the corridor, hugging my food to my chest as if it were the only thing I had left to protect.

Behind me, he stayed where he was in the kitchen, watching me go.

I didn't look back.

I couldn't afford to trust a sudden change in someone who had given me so many reasons to be afraid of him.

Damien's POV

I stood there without moving, my eyes following Elena until she vanished around the corner.

Her words kept looping in my head.

Why do you hate me this much?

I dragged a hand through my hair and frowned.

Why had I even asked if she was okay?

Why had I cared whether she was in pain?

I'd never worried about her suffering before. Yet watching her struggle just to stand had stirred something in me that I didn't like.

My eyes dropped to the food spread across the kitchen floor.

Then I remembered the tears in her eyes.

For some reason I couldn't explain, I couldn't get them out of my head.

I clenched my jaw and tried to shove the thoughts away.

Have I been too hard on her?