Sequel of The Devil & The Angel: Volume 1
A year and a half has passed since young Daisy Miller met the dark devilishly handsome Damien D'Angelo. Now the two are smack bang in the middle of a new chapter together, living their passion filled lives...
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Chapter Song - Into The Fire by Erin McCarley
⚠️TW: Domestic Violence & Court⚠️
Week One
The exhale of my tense breath doesn't give me the relaxation I'm craving. My shoulders sit tense as I brace the bathroom counter, my eyes sitting shut as I go to a place of emptiness. I inhale and exhale like its a song, hoping to find the rhythm, but I've never been much of a dancer.
I swallow deeply, opening my eyes and looking at myself in the mirror. I could swear to you a million other versions of me stare back, and I'm sure they do. Some happy, some proud, some terrified as they look at me for help I'm giving them.
It's day one of a trial with three dots at the end of it.
My pencil skirt sits tight over my body, coming down to just above my knee. I'm dressed in an ivory silk button-up blouse thats tucked into the tight skirt, with a pair of plain black heels, and a matching blazer to my skirt strewn on the edge of my bed.
It's office attire, something I don't wear often. The only thing that sits on my body as a expression of my personality is my engagement ring, and curly hair that tickles the edges of my blouse collar.
I painted my nails last night, a light shade of pink, something pretty and cute that I can look down at if I need a spice of colour in the court room. My makeup is simple and plain, nothing special, and my simple pearl studs I wore in high school.
I hadn't worn those pearl studs in years, and I'm not sure what drew me to them today. Maybe it was the fact I used to wear them at the time I was with Trent, and I wanted some part of that Daisy with me.
To remind me why. To remind me I'm not crazy. To remind me that this is what he deserves.
"You got this," I whisper to myself, frazzled, but strong eyes looking back at me. "I can do this." I say strongly, a little louder this time.
Taking a final breath, I flick off the bathroom light and grab my blazer. I slip on the grey pin-stripe material that matches my skirt, and do a once over in the mirror, before leaving the bedroom.
Damien leans against the kitchen counter top, dressed in grey pants and a simple button up shirt tucked in, he looks like himself in his office attire. Though, I never wear this kind of clothing, so it squeezes the nerves in my stomach crazily.
The click of my heels captures his attention, his eyes soft and patient as he strolls over to me. "How are you feeling?" He asks, hands rubbing up my upper arms.
"I'm trying to pin-point what I'm most scared of, and it's everything," I admit. "I'm scared to speak in front of the jury, I'm scared to see him, I'm scared for the fact that what if we don't win."
He cups my face. "It's okay that you're scared, I don't think anyone likes court," he says. "But you won't be scared alone, I'm here to hold it and send it away."
