MY DARLING DAREDEVIL

Unfolding

Damon had an internal struggle all through the ride to his parents’ house. It had come as a shock to him at first, then a fairytale, something that could only be seen in the movies. He had not wanted to believe what Aziza was saying. His memories were intact, his mind was intact and there was nothing missing at all. But even as she spoke, it pulled at his mind, pulled at his conscience and heart. He wanted to find it so outrageous, but her words held conviction, she had no reason to lie about such a thing. She had nothing to gain from making such a vile accusation though she had not pointed fingers, it was clearly directed at his parents. when at the end of the day, he was going to find out the truth and would come after her mightily for lying. Yes, she was powerful, his guards and cops might not be able to match up to her at all, but she had a reason for why she had been guarding him for so many years now, and a very pure and absurd one but why ruin it with a lie? A made-up story or an accusation that would break the strange and strong trust he had for her and ruin all she had worked so hard for all these years? There had to be some kind of truth in what she was saying, so with that, he stormed off to his car and drove off in rage and anger. But the ride to his parent’s house had taken a while, and even with his explicit grievance he felt, he had thought about her words over and over again and tried to make sense of the whole situation.

He could not possess abilities just like her. There was no way he could have such powers, such abilities because he was a human. Only supernatural’s could have such and his both parents were human. If they were something else, he would have known somehow a long time ago. He had lived with them, he had grown up with them, he had loved them and even his childhood and….

He paused in his thought as it suddenly went blank. A sharp pain hit his head again but this time, it disappeared almost immediately. He shook his head, refusing to believe in the possibility that was right before him. His childhood, his childhood. Why did it seem like he had no childhood? Why did it just seem like he could not remember what his childhood was like? Panic filled his heart and he went pale in an instance. His mind dug deeper, his heart searched deeper for a time, a time before he woke up at the hospital. The existence of him, before that very day he woke up to find himself at the hospital, but the more he searched, the more darkness surrounded him. A dreadful feeling settled at the pit of his stomach and his heart clenched tightly inside the chest. She was right, he had no memories of his childhood. He had no life before he woke up at the hospital.

Mixed emotions flooded through him and he balled his hand into a fist. How could he have not known before? how did he not know that a part of him was missing? A very small part of him? But of course, he wouldn’t because his mother had filled it up with imaginative memories. In his younger days, Flossie Roxwell would do nothing but tell him stories, stories from when he was only but an infant. Stories of how cold, distant or unruly he was. She would feed him stories, he never seemed to recall. Every night, every time, in the fields, in the playground, during a family dinner. That in time, he had taken those stories and gently placed them in his mind as memories when they were not. That was why he had never thought about it so much. His anger ran deep, they had lied to him. His parents had actually lied to him like he was simply nothing and no one. But didn’t that mean that all what Aziza had said had been correct just now? Were the drugs only keeping his memories and abilities dormant?

No, he shook his head, refusing to actually believe all the stories she had been telling him. They might have lied to him, but he was not like her, he had spent a lot of time in his life to know what he was and who he was. He could not be anything other than a rich human and heir. But even as he disagreed and fought with himself, a part of him whispered gently to him, urging him to look a little deeper. Like a little voice, it pleaded that he would heed to Aziza’s voice.

The car came to a halt the moment they drove through the compound and he pushed the door open. Without waiting for any special treatment, he alighted from the car with a furry that burned. Anyone who was close to him could feel the hotness, the flames, the anger and anyone who saw the look in his eyes could tell that he was out to kill. He turned to the entrance of the door and started towards it but stopped in his tracks. That gaze had rested on his skin like a soft, silky fabric, ready to comfort him and cloth him and he had turned around. His eyes immediately went to the very high building he could see around, but even he knew that he did not have such foresight to see her.

What mattered was that she was there with him, instead of far away. That would only prove that she was not scared, and if she was not scared, it meant that she might actually be telling the truth. His stomach tightened into a knot and he clenched his jaw. He turned back to the house and walked mightily into it.

“Mom,” he yelled, rage and annoyance fueling him.

“Mom,” he yelled again. His voice reverberated through the very house he called home. Ethan was checking out some files when he had heard that familiar voice of his son and had sighed deeply. Flossie who was sitting on the bed turned to him at an instance and listened again. She was not sure of what she was hearing.

“Mother,” he yelled again, his voice going higher and angrier the longer time they took to come down. The servants and staff looked on. His voice and the racket he was causing on such a beautiful morning was already getting them very concerned and they had wanted to protest or asked what the matter was. But who would dare stand against the great Damon Roxwell? His mother and the red hair probably. But everyone else would have to cut out their tongue with their own hands rather than interrupt him when he was like that.

“Is that Damon?” Flossie had stood up from where she sat and turned to the door while Ethan shrugged unconcerned. Right after he finished signing off the papers he held, he turned to the door too and went down while he wondered what his usually well-behaved son was becoming so unruly for.

“Damon, are you out of your senses?” Flossie snapped as she walked down the stairs gracefully and elegantly. He snapped his eyes to her in an instance. He had wanted to say something earlier, anything to vent out his conflicted feelings but on seeing his darling mother, he had quickly swallowed the angry response that had formed in his mind and went mute. He walked closer to the stairs, stretched his hand out so he could help her down, but she slapped it away and flashed him a glare.

“What’s the meaning of this rubbish?” she walked past him, revealing her displeasure.

“You really had to act like one of those brutes in the streets. Don’t you know how to pay respect to your parents anymore?” Ethan followed. Damon flashed him a glare, one equal to what his mother had given to him at that very moment. His father cursed inwardly, seeing that he was always at the receiving end of his son’s temper while his mother always remained free from such a hostile attitude. He flashed him a glare of his own and walked down the stairs and towards his wife who had walked over to the sitting room and had sat down elegantly on a couch. He took a seat right beside her and crossed his long slender legs just as Damon started towards them. He took a seat opposite them and reprimanded himself inwardly for cursing such a fuss when he could have handled things more maturely. Well, he was angry, he was still very angry but his mother’s charming presence was just subduing it.

“Are you going to speak or do you want me to make you kneel down here and apologise?” she entered. His voice still held anger and the look on Damon’s face made it grow by the minute. He was never one to make so much noise in the past or disrespected them by the way he had badged into the house earlier. She had even thought that something had gone terribly wrong with him and had almost had an attack while rushing down the stairs. But now, she no longer cared about that, but the reason behind the hostile look she had detected right before he calmed down. Damon took a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly. He thought back to the words of Aziza and the reality he was facing already. Then he thought about how he would place his questions so as to not anger his mother even more.

“Is there something you both are hiding from me?” he opened his eyes and stared at his parents. Flossie’s eyes went wide and Damon’s father frowned at the sudden question.

“What is the meaning of this, son?” Ethan questioned.

“Is there something I should know that you haven’t told me yet?” he repeated, this time his anger slowly returning as he thought about the truth. Flossie stared at her son for a while, and contemplated on what he could be thinking and the kind of question he was asking. They had so many secrets over the past few years, she was not even sure of what he was speaking about.

“What could we be hiding from you?” She responded and watched him closely.

“I just found out that I don’t have any childhood memories,” he busted it out into the open. Flossie’s mouth went wide open and Ethan’s eyes went dark in a second. His mother got up on her feet like something had suddenly hit her and her eyes went misty in an instance.

“Damon,” she called more softly, fear making her voice quiver and tears turning her eyes into blurry clouds. His heart seized and the very truth hit him hard on his face that it burned.

But he was no longer in the dark, if he had truly lost his memories, if his parents had taken it away and given him a pill, a medication and a lot more that would make those memories dormant. Then Aziza might possibly be right that he was like her and also had such abilities, if only they were not dormant. It made him suddenly look at his parents one more time, as he thought about the possibility of having such abilities and still being a human child. The answer clicked in his thought in an instance for he was not stupid. His throat went dry as something hard struck his heart accompanied by fear. Slowly, he got up on his feet and stared at his mother, who now had tears running through her cheeks.

“Who are my parents?” his next question came.