Her Mafia Brothers

More Memories

I woke up in the morning in my own bed, refreshed after a good night's sleep where, surprisingly, I didn't have any bad dreams. I must have exhausted myself completely with all my punching the night before, to sleep so soundly.

What day was it? I couldn't remember. Did I have school? I stumbled out of bed to go and find one of my brothers and see, when my door burst open and Damon walked in. Impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, as usual. Did the man not own any normal clothes? Did he sleep in his suit?

"Good morning Carrie." He smiled at me. "Are you feeling up to going to school today?"

I nodded my head. I was feeling fine, and I was starting to get bored at home. There was only so much Netflix a person could watch, alone. Plus, I missed my friends. It wasn't that I wanted to go to school so much, but I definitely wanted to see my friends.

"Good. Get yourself dressed then and come down when you're ready. What would you like me to get you for breakfast?"

"Fruit and yogurt please," I said without hesitation. It was fast becoming my favourite breakfast choice. The staff seemed to know exactly how I liked it: a bowl full of cut up fruit and berries, covered in thick, creamy yogurt, sprinkled with granola and drizzled with honey. It was so good. When I wasn't sick I ate a huge bowlful of it most mornings, and slowly, I knew I was putting on weight. I was still small for my size, both in height and weight, but I was growing. True to his word, Damon had given the staff a list of my favourite foods, and with being allowed to eat as much as I wanted, of whatever I wanted, whenever I was hungry, I was fast approaching being a more healthy weight. Damon was a bit of a health nut and didn't allow much in the way of junk food in the house, but he did let me have a few treats.

"I'll go and get your breakfast organized, then." Damon smiled again and turned to walk away but just as he reached the door I called him back. I could remember Alex saying the word therapy last night, and Jack promising to clarify it, but he never did. It was bothering me. So I asked Damon instead.

He came back into my room, pulled my chair out from behind my desk and straddled it backwards. It was the first time I'd seen Damon sit the wrong way on anything before and it made me smile. Maybe Damon was normal after all?

"He said punching the bag like that was good therapy for you. You were obviously digging deep into yourself, remembering what had been done to you, and letting out all your pent-up anger at your abusers."

"Oh." Alex was pretty much right in his assessment. I had been picturing his face when I'd attacked the punching bag so viciously. I looked up at Damon. "So you're not going to make me go to therapy, then?"

Damon shook his head. "No. We're not going to make you do anything you don't want to do."

I scoffed at that, but Damon silenced me with a glare. Obviously forcing me to follow the rules he had set didn't count in the 'anything you don't want to do ' thing.

"But if you do feel that you want to talk to someone, I will arrange it. I won't force it though, it's your decision." He looked at me for a few seconds, but when I didn't say anything he stood up to leave. And then I thought of something else.

"When I was sick and watching Netflix, there were some shows I wanted to watch but couldn't find," I said. "I think they were R16."

Damon nodded. "Yes. I set your Netflix account to 14. Anything rated above that will be blocked."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because you're 14, Carrie. You're too young to watch some things."

I glared at him with my fiercest glare, but I don't think he found me all that scary because all he did was reach out and ruffle my hair. "If there is something in particular you want to watch, you can talk to me about it and maybe watch it downstairs with us."

That was not what I wanted to hear. I frowned deeper and stomped my foot in anger. "You suck!" I declared loudly.

Damon raised an eyebrow and fixed me with a stern stare that made me tremble in fear.

"Do you want to say that again, little girl?" he growled. Like always, his voice was not loud, but so filled with authority that I wanted to shrivel through the floor.

"No," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

Damon glared at me sternly again then walked over to my TV, swiveled it around and pulled the power cord out of the back of it. He folded it in half in his hand and waved it at me.

"You've lost your TV for the weekend," he told me sternly, but I didn't hear what he said. All I could see was the power cord dangling from his fist and my mind flashed back to him, beating me almost unconscious with a very similar cord. Leaving my body battered, bruised, covered in bloody welts that took weeks to heal. My screams rang out in my ears as I remembered the horrific pain. I curled up in a ball to protect myself, covering my head with my hands. I held my breath, waiting for the blows to fall.

But they never did. Instead, Damon was beside me on the floor. He picked me up, moved my hands away from my face.

"It's okay Carrie," he told me softly. "Just breathe, you're okay."

He sat me on his lap on my bed and coached me to breathe deeply, slowly. He breathed with me, his low voice helping me to keep my focus on him.

"In, out. Deep breaths. That's right."

When I was calm, he kept his arm around me, but turned my face and made me look at him.

"Were you beaten with a power cord?" he asked me.

"Yes," I whispered.

Damon's body stiffened and his fists clenched in anger. He was furious, but not at me.

"And I scared you. I'm so sorry Carrie, I didn't mean to scare you. You will never be hit with a power cord, or anything like it, ever again. I promise you."

I nodded, burying my face in his chest. I was so embarrassed. I knew Damon wasn't going to hit me with the cord. Deep in my heart I knew that. But my head hadn't quite accepted that yet. My fight or flight response was still so strong.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

Damon hugged me close.

"You don't need to apologize for being afraid, Carrie. It's my job to keep you safe and I'm sorry I frightened you."

He kissed my forehead, then stood me up so I could get ready for school.

"The cord is over there on the floor." He pointed. "Are you going to be okay if I pick it up and take it away, or do you want to take it yourself and put it on my bed?"

I took a deep breath. I loved how considerate Damon was of my trauma. "I'll be okay if you take it, as long as you don't come near me with it," I said. "I will go into my wardrobe and get my uniform, can you take it then, when I'm not looking?"

Damon nodded. And that's what we did.