Sliver of Divinity

Part One

Two

The feeling of his mother’s hand on his shoulder finally jerked Damien out of the trance that he had fallen into.

He looked up and met his mothers’ eyes, red from the tears that had spilled, and finally his own began to flow.

Damien collapsed into his mother’s arms, and she held him tightly as they cried together.

It was a feeling that Damien had never had before. He had lost one of his grandparents when he was eight-years-old, and it had hurt something fierce. But that feeling was like a paper cut against the rending of mind and soul that he was feeling now.

He sobbed and trembled, holding onto his mother like a life line, and she onto him.

An unknown amount of time later, the two of them sat on the couch. The same spot where the two men in military dress had sat when Damien came home.

His body ached from the sobs that still occasionally ran through his body like aftershocks proceeding an earthquake.

Damien and his mother said nothing. They simply sat there in silence as the minutes stretched by.

Damien nearly flinched when his mother finally spoke, scattering the silence that had laid thick like a fog between them.

“Damien…”

It was all that she was able to manage. Her mouth moved again as if she wanted to speak, but it closed once more. She had no idea what to say. What to do. She was floundering in the open water, just barely holding herself above the surface.

Damien knew that if he didn’t say or do something, then she would drown. Her savior was gone now, and it was up to him to fill the role.

“How?” he asked. His throat was raw.

No doubt the two men had told him how it had happened. But he only remembered bits and pieces. Fragments.

His mother cleared her throat and choked back the sob that threatened to leak out. She opened her mouth to speak. Closed it again as a tear streamed down her face.

Damien draped his arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him, thankful for the comfort that her son provided.

Then, she righted herself, and was finally able to speak.

“They said it was some kind of explosion. An I.E.D. Your father was on a routine patrol. The last before he was set to come back home.”

She hung her head, shaking it back and forth.

“His last patrol…they told him he didn’t even have to go. Said he should relax on his last day. But you know your father. He always had a sense of duty. Wanted to see thing through. So, he went.”

“It was buried in the ground. No one saw it until it was too late.”

Silence reigned once more, spreading between mother and son, an unfathomable distance.

“When?” Damien asked quietly.

“Just a few days ago. They sent those men to tell us as soon as they could.”

“Which just so happened to be the day he was supposed to come home.” Damien scoffed. “Some homecoming.”

Lisa draped her arm around her sons’ shoulders, mirroring the act that he had preformed just moments prior.

However, instead of leaning on her for support, Damien remained straight backed and rigid.

Lisa tried to smile. She tried to be strong for her son. But inside she was broken, her whole world turned on its head in the span of a single day.

Damien was broken too. More broken than he had ever been in his entire life. He was trying to be strong as well. He was trying so desperately. His willpower clashing with the emotions inside him in a violent, deafening cacophony.

In the end, he just wasn’t strong enough.

His willpower shrunk, replaced by an emotion that was both out of place and completely understandable.

Anger.

White hot anger that boiled through his veins, threatening to light his body on fire from within. Anger like he had never felt before. Anger that radiated off of him, casting a shadow across his face.

“Why?” he said coldly. Quietly.

His mother was confused, the careful mask of strength that she was wearing slipping slightly.

“Why what?”

“Why did he have to go?”

Damien met his mothers’ eyes, and she shrunk back, her arm falling to her side.

“Baby,” she said softly. “We always knew that there were risks. We always knew that this could happen. It was just his time is all.”

“No.” Damien growled. “Why did have to go on that last patrol? He was home free. He was done. All he had to do was lay back and wait to leave.”

Damien rose to his feet. He needed to move. He couldn’t stay still. His body was coursing with adrenaline and anger.

“But no. He just had to uphold his duty. He just had to go out on that last patrol. He just had to do it, and now look.”

He gestured wildly to his father’s chair.

Empty.

“He’s supposed to be here!” Damien yelled. He couldn’t keep it inside any longer. His anger was bubbling like a volcano inside of him.

“He’s supposed to be sitting right there. He was supposed to come back home, but he didn’t. All because he had to uphold his duty. Always his duty. Well, what about the duty he had toward us, mom? Huh?! His duty was to come home. To come back to us, and he didn’t!”

His mother simply stared at him, her face contorting as the tears began once more.

“It’s not his fault, Damien.” She said through sobs.

“It is his fault!” Damien roared. “It’s all his fault! All he had to do was come back to us, and he didn’t. All he had to do was come back to me, and he didn’t!”

His mother moved to stand. She wanted to comfort her son. She wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone. Wanted him to know that she was breaking inside to. Wanted him to know that they still had each other and that she was there for him.

Damien shied back from his mothers touch as if she were some kind of striking serpent. He backed away toward the hallway, his eyes bloodshot. The tears wouldn’t stop. He swiped them away with his sleeve and they just returned. They were blinding.

“Damien, please.” His mother pleaded.

He continued backing away, his body telling him to move. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t sit down and talk. Couldn’t keep glancing over at his father’s empty chair.

He needed to move. He needed to walk. He needed to run.

So, he ran.

Damien turned and sprinted from the house as his mother cried his name. He didn’t even remember opening the door.

The next thing he knew he was in the hallway of the building. Then the stairwell, careening down them with the same reckless abandon that had carried him here, and which now carried him away.

He ran out of his building, the cool evening air slapping him in the face, pushing up against the white-hot fire of his anger.

It was not enough to drive it away. It wasn’t even close.

So, Damien continued to run. As he did so, he passed many of the same people as he had before. New York City, especially uptown Manhattan, was not the type of place to quiet down simply because the sun had set.

There were cries of alarm, question, and protest as he ran.

Damien ignored all of them, focusing solely on putting one leg in front of the other. He ran as if some kind of unseen horror was nipping at his heels.

But no. This horror was not unseen. Damien could see it in his mind as clear as day.

His mother crying. Two men in uniform.

An empty chair.

Damien ran until the cries of the people around him stopped. He ran through intersections without even bothering to check if it was safe. Blocks and blocks passed as he ran on and on, heedless of his surroundings for a whole different reason other than just carelessness.

Of course, the action had the same result as before. Except this time, there was no couch to catch him.

He had no idea how far from home he was. Not far enough was all that he knew. Not far enough from the sight of his crying mother and his father’s empty chair.

He couldn’t stop now, he had to keep going. Had to keep running. Had to get away.

Damien ran into another intersection.

The impact of the car sent him flying through the air.

Again, time began to slow down.

He saw the shattered windshield as its glass sprinkled around him. Saw the headlights, as bright and blinding as the sun. Saw the face of the woman behind the wheel, staring ahead in open mouthed shock.

All of this ran through his mind in seconds.

He crashed into the ground. Heard something snap.

He saw his father’s smiling face.

Then, nothing but darkness.