Chapter 1: Chapter 1

 

“Damian? Damian!” A shout snapped back my attention.
My mind was a cloudy mess of thought as I turned to my supposed father.
With a smile, I spoke. “Yes father?”
He grunted, his dark pools filled with contempt pierced through me. “Were you listening?”
“Apologies, father. I seem to have been preoccupied.”
He scoffed before turning back to his meal. “Just understand that you’ll be turning fifteen tomorrow, you’ll be given a tutor for the next Imperial Examination.”

I clapped with a dopey smile. “Thank you~”
The rest of the table snickered, their eyes filled with contempt as I glanced at them, reminding myself of the family I found myself in.
“Let the boy go, Anthony. Forcing the dullard to prepare himself for something so complex would force him into unnecessary pressure.” A woman commented, her vibrant red hair flowing beside her smirk.
“Thank you~ Lady Miree.” I chirped my smile wide at the insult.
She twitched in irritation.

The woman beside her scoffed, her black hair tied up like a bun, her eyes a deep black as she sat in her gray priestly robes. “Insulting a child so early in the morning, Mireen?”
I glanced at the woman beside her, a smirk on her face, “Perhaps you should give the temple a visit? It would do you good to have some virtue and bask in the Lord’s light.”
Mireen scoffed, disdain written all over her face, “So your little toy priests can get a hold of me!? No, neither will my children.”
“Then perhaps you would be better off-”
“Enough of this discussion! Eat your meal or leave!” Father shouted, everyone quieted down, their heads lowered as the man glowered at them.

With his shout came peace and silence
My eyes glanced at my supposed family.
One father, his two wives and three other children.
My eyes darted at the red head. Mireen, a noble daughter of a count, second wife, part of Athanas’ coven.
She birthed twins, Linton and Miriel, first son and first daughter, both remain incomparable mages, both eighteen.
Then in front of them sat the First wife. Clarisa, noble daughter of a count and a practitioner of the Angelical Faith.
His son, Conrad, seventeen, a supposed genius and a powerful knight.
That was all that I could glean from the mess of memories Damien held. 

 

“I shall be taking my leave.” said Anthony as he left, all of us gave him our regards.
Though with his absence, he left behind his two wives done with their meals, eyes locked with one another. “You know, Mireen. Meals should be a quiet affair.”
“Is that so, Clarisa?” She glared at her, their eyes locked as she smirked. “Then would you and your son kindly leave, so we may have our peace?”
Conrad spoke up. “You may not.”
“Obviously, since leeches aren’t so easily ripped off.” A snarky remark bit back.

A remark that made Conrad bristle.
He turned to Linton, “The only reason you are even entertained in this household is because your whore mother was good enough in bed.”
He scoffed, arms crossed “As expected of you heretics.”
“What!? How dare you!” Linton stood, he slammed his fist against the table, his face red in rage. 

Yet before the two could enter another round of verbal insults, I stood up.
All of them turned to my direction and I gave them the dumbest smile I could. “Uhm… Damian’s head hurts.”
They turned away and I hurried out, my thoughts remained a mess.
The door slammed behind me as the room erupted into arguments.
God, this place is such a shitshow.
But it's great, I suppose.
Since I’m not even entertained as a participant in their little battles.

I walked through the halls with a skip in my step, the argument behind, dimming.
With a quick look around the busy hall, another set of memories rushed in.
A smile crawled up my face as I was filled with nothing but boundless optimism.
Countless days of running through the halls laughing to myself.
Giggling at every single thing, happy and content with the life I am living.
These are all memories that are familiar yet distant. 

The memories of a young carefree dull witted teenager, happily giggling his way through the mansion. Unable to see the looks of disdain headed his way.
It was fun, the most fun I’ve ever seen.
Memories that felt so fun, I can’t help but skip along.
Not minding the servant’s disdainful looks, though it does remind me.
I really need to find more memories, so I can’t be caught off guard like that.
With the triggers waiting to happen, I don’t know how I’ll react.
Might as well rip the band aid off. 

Unfortunately my wish was granted once I turned to my door.
A barrage of emotions assaulted me, my head pounded in response.
Tears then fell from my eyes as I gripped the door, My hand slammed it open as another set of memories beckoned me.
And I looked up.
Like a flood, the memories drowned me.
Death, Blood, Despair and Fear.
I forced my head up as I looked at my bedroom.
My modest bed, where I sat, frozen in fear.
The clean carpet, where she bled as she flooded the room with her cries.
And her ring, the last thing she gave me with a smile. 

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I held my head up as the memories drowned me, cries tore itself from my throat as I stood before everything that made Damian who he was.
My knees felt like it shattered into pieces as it forced me to the ground, tears soak my face as I grabbed at the door, steadying myself as I whimpered.
Everything… It explained everything. 

It took a whole minute of me sobbing and whimpering in the lonely corridor.
Before I stood up, looking at my bedroom in dimming grief as I muttered.
“This is just Damian’s memories.” My shoulders slumped. “I’m kind of afraid of diving into Henry’s memories.”

If Damian's memories scarred me this much.
The thought of a mafia don should terrify me in ways I couldn’t predict.
How depressing, yet necessary. 

With such thought, I stood up, my legs shook at every step before I laid my head down on my bed. .
I just got myself reborn this morning, taking my breakfast before I relived a traumatic memory.
Now I’m once more alone with my thoughts, stuck trying to remember things.
Molded by two personalities that the thought alone makes me puke. 

God… My life is such a mess.
But a mess, I should be fixing and the only way to do that is face it head on.
And so, I stood up, grabbed the knife by my bedside and held it to my wrist.
There’s only one thing that could force open Henry’s memories.
Deep in my head the voices beckoned.

I followed and with a quick swipe, blood dripped.
The familiar action sent shockwaves through me as memories rushed through.
First came his mother’s, wrist cut, eyes blank by the bed.
Then came his own… knife over his wrist, as his hand shook and tears poured.
Lastly was his wife’s, holding back the blood as the world around him crumbled.

I gasped, hand clutching my wrist as the memories ended.
Two sets of memories, two sets of trauma, eh? What a pain.
Hey! Mommy was awesome!
Old wounds never heal, they scar.

Oh so now there are two voices in my head.
I’ve definitely gotten insane, haven’t I?
Hopefully they’re not separate entities living in my head.
I winced at the thought, waiting for their confirmation before I sighed in relief
Yup, thank goodness they’re just hallucinations. 

Ah, yes. How assuring that I’m just you, speaking to you.
Hehehe. You’re silly, other me.
Wow, sassy… Is there any way I can get rid of either of you?
I don’t think it’ll bode well for my health or my reputation to talk to imaginary friends. 

Dunno… Maybe if you become awesome! Or Awesomer!
We know as much as you, we’re just manifestations of your broken psyche.
A sigh escaped my lips, “I really need to get myself together, or else.”

“Lord Damian? Your tutor has arrived.” A voice came from the open door.
A man stood there, an old aging man finely dressed as he awaited my response.
I sat up and gave him a wide excited grin.
“I’m coming!” I cheered, arms up.
Keeping up this facade is going to be a pain.

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