He said different things in different ways, and it caught my imagination. He was everything I'd ever dreamed so simply unordinary.

Mae

"Huh?!" He asked, his voice cracking. I had just spoken, and I was nervous, my heart was pounding with adrenaline in my chest. He raised his eyebrows as he waited, but I knew he heard, and I smiled at the fact that he was shocked, I found it humorous.

I guess I had never really thought about the reaction somebody would give if I spoke. He sat straight ahead, looking away, straight toward the waves as his eyes were wide, but his eyes started moving, looking at me from the side, and it creeped me out, so I laughed.

He moved quickly in front of me, on his knees as he looked at me with wide eyes, and I leaned away a bit, scared by his frantic moves. "Did you just... did you... what did you just say?" He asked, testing to see if I would speak again, and this time I didn't wait to see if I would hear the voice again.

"I trust you, Damien," I whispered, smiling as I nodded. I did trust him, and I knew that now. There was no going back. I was nervous about speaking to him but there was also a calmness, and it felt like I did the right thing by speaking to him

He froze, looking at me, unmoving, and I became worried about his reaction. Was this a good thing or a bad? I wasn't sure if there was a right or wrong reaction.

"Y-y-ou s-sp-" he stuttered, not able to finish from how shocked he was, and my smile wouldn't leave my face. My heart was hammering in my chest, threatening to come out. I pieced together that he was shocked because I spoke which could have been a good thing.

It had made me feel like I wasn't the challenge he had told me I was. That me speaking was completely and utterly unexpected to him. He wasn't expecting this and maybe he wasn't even hoping for it. Which felt like a good thing.

"Spoke?" I offered, finishing his word. He nodded, his lips moving but words failed to come out, and I couldn't stop smiling at his reaction. So, this was what people might do?

"M-m-m-more," he stammered as he looked at me. I laughed, and his smile grew wider at the sound. I was confused by what he was trying to say as he looked at me like a child seeing his favorite superhero in real life. What was he trying to say?

"Mae?" I offered. Maybe that was what he was trying to say? He shook his head, and I was afraid that this was a bad reaction. My smile slowly faded, and my heart sank. Did he not care that I spoke? Maybe he had wanted more silence. He blinked and leaned toward me.

"Do you regret it?" He asked, softly, now able to find his words clearly. His face filled with worry as he shook his head. "Don't regret it, please," he begged softly, almost if he was afraid he'd spook me, or if he would speak my regret into existence. He looked at me as he waited, and I shook my head, not understanding what he was saying.

"Regret what?" I whispered, not needing to speak any louder because he was so close to me.

"Regret talking to me," he whispered, and I smiled. That was what he had thought? I knew I didn't regret speaking to him, he was one person I was sure of.

"I don't regret it," I smiled. He smiled before opening his arms and tackling me down, lying on top of me. I flinched, scared of what he was doing, but he rested his head on chest, and I stopped being scared once I realized what he was doing.

He stopped moving and stayed lying on my chest. He was heavy, but it felt nice. The pressure on my body didn't make me feel like I was being suffocated but instead, felt like I was being held together. It felt comforting and cozy. It was a nice feeling.

"Am I heavy?" He asked. I could feel his face moving as if he was smiling, and I shook my head. My arms felt awkward just to my side, so I wrapped them around him, putting one hand on the top of his back, and the other on the nape of his neck.

I felt his hair against my fingers, and it felt extremely soft, making me want to run my hand through it, but I didn't want to weird him out. He's lying on you. My subconscious reminded me. I smiled at the reminder, but I felt as if I ran my hand through his hair, it might seem more affectionate. Like something you would do with your partner and not with your friend.

Should I ask him?

Being honest is good right? It's good to just let him know I've never done anything like this? Maybe he might understand and agree that it would be okay to run my hand through his hair. I had wanted to show him different types of affection, ones I had never received. I had seen many displays of affection on tv shows and movies, and I had always dreamed of doing that with someone. Now with Damien, it felt like I would be able to get that chance.

"Oh my god!" He groaned, his voice excited. "I can't believe you're talking to me." He lifted his head and smiled at me. I kept smiling because of the position we were in and started feeling my face get hot. I knew my cheeks must have been flushed. I looked at him but since he was already looking at me, it made me feel more nervous. He picked the upper half of his body up, using his arms to prompt himself up, but he slid a bit on the sand when he tried and leaned closer to me, but he didn't move. "Umm... is this too close?" He whispered softly, worried about the boundaries between us.

I shook my head, but it was close. I was nervous and wasn't sure what he would do now that we were this close. He leaned in a bit as he looked at my lips, but I looked away, scared that he might kiss me. I had never kissed anyone before, and I didn't want to kiss him and have him find out how much of a bad kisser I was.

"Umm," I whispered, and he got off of me instantly, so I sat up.

"Sorry!" He apologized, instantly, a sheepish smile appearing on his lips as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to get into your personal space, and I wasn't going to try anything, not that I wanted to try anything or intended on trying anything, not that there was anything to try in the first place." He rambled as he looked down, holding out his hands, but he didn't stop. He kept going. "I mean, not there wasn't anything I wanted to try because there is, but I know you might not want to. I mean, I don't know-"

"It's okay," I whispered, and he looked up at me with a huge smile. His eyes, glowing with happiness, and his once sad face was nowhere to be found. It was nothing but happiness. "Don't look at me like that," I mumbled as I looked down, feeling shy with the way he was looking at me.

"Why?" He asked, amused, and I shook my head, letting my hair curtain my face, not wanting to tell him that he was making me feel shy. "Hmm?" He asked as he leaned closer. He bent down a bit to see my face as he asked, but I started smiling, feeling shyer, so I placed my right hand on his chest, stopping him from coming closer, and softly started to push him away. He grabbed my hand, stopping me from pushing him, and I let him. "Do you feel shy?" He asked, still with that amused tone.

"Mmm," I groaned as I used my left hand to hide my face as I looked down. Why was he making me feel this shy? He laughed and brought me into his arms.

"Don't feel shy around me," he told me, and I could hear the huge smile in his voice. Like I would be able to control my shyness. I felt embarrassed that I was being this shy, which resulted in me feeling shyer. It was him hugging me and being close to him that made me feel this way. Was our hug friendly? Or did it mean something else? The only two people I had ever hugged were James and Zach, and for both of them, it had never felt this nerve-racking, not even with James.

"Then, don't make me feel shy," I mumbled into his chest, and he laughed. I felt shyer that he was laughing at me. I knew it wasn't in a mean way, so I didn't feel offended by it, but it made my nerves spike.

"You're cute when you're shy," he said, sounding like he was smiling cheekily, and my face could not have burned any hotter. I groaned again into his chest, and he laughed. "I can't believe you're talking to me," he repeated as he shook his head, still with the sound of happiness in his voice as he held me tighter, and I couldn't either.

After so long of wanting to break free from Mitch's hold on me, I finally was. I had never wanted to let him restraint me again. It wasn't fair to that little girl who begged the entire universe for freedom. Now that I was finally free, I had never wanted to be mentally caged and locked up again. I had never wanted my mind to suffer that way again.

"Me too," I mumbled. I wrapped my arms around his waist, like the feeling of his hug. His hug made my heart race with nervousness; it made me feel as if I was riding a roller coast, but it had also made me feel safe. His hug brought a sort of serenity, a calmness I had always needed. I knew there was never an ounce of danger he would cause me. The way he tightened his grasp around me as I tightened mine, assuring me that he was here, was like he was ready to shield me from any danger that was near.

He was the savor I had been praying for.

He slowly backed away, but still kept his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him, but there was no trace of the smile he once wore on his face, and I began to worry why. "Do you really not see me differently?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"I will never look at you different from everything you had gone through. I don't know any sane person that would," I assured, a smile found its way on his lips. "Are you okay?" I asked, meaning about what he had just admitted to me. I knew it wouldn't help or do anything, but I was genuinely worried about him after everything he had told me. I had never met anyone who had gone through everything he had.

"I am now," he told me and sat next to me. "Max helped me with a lot of it. He called himself my personal psychologist," Damien chuckled, and the corners of my lips tugged back into a small smile. "He had me tell the last story to him over and over again and wrote it down for me to read, and I've read it over and over again but every time I did, I had never cried. I never knew why. Telling you my story now was the first time I had cried while telling it." He looked down at the sand, running his fingers over it, and his eyes looked as if he was in a daze.

From what I assumed why he didn't cry the first time everything happened, was because he was in shock. The flight or fight response that was trying to kick in, sent him into a shocked trance that didn't allow him to feel entirely the way he was supposed to. He felt the fear and dread but never felt the sadness. I had thought maybe that was from the fight response. He still felt angry when everything was happening and wanted to fight through it, but in the end, he couldn't because he was shocked and frozen.

"You've been through a lot," I told him, keeping my voice quiet and calm. He nodded as he looked down, but he looked sad again. It had amazed me that someone I thought was entirely strong and confident, was not. He had his flaws and his weaknesses, and it made me realize that I couldn't judge a car by its exterior.

I couldn't just see his exterior and think that's all there was to him. From our time spent together in those last few moments, I knew he was a deeper person. Damien was a lot like me. Our past kept tormenting us, not allowing us to move on to the future. I never realized I could have related to him before now. I never realized how broken he truly was. He wasn't just a strong, overly confident guy who walked around like he owned the town, he was someone with a tragic past. He wasn't this god the girls at my school had made him out to be, he was human with a past he couldn't escape from.

"Yeah," he whispered as he nodded, offering a forced smile.

"But you've pulled yourself together. You made yourself stronger, and you manage to hold yourself still. You don't let your past crumble you down. That's amazing. Not many people are able to do that," I told him, looking intently into his eyes so the next words I spoke would hold meaning. "I'm proud of you, Damien," I smiled.

His face mixed with emotions that took over his sadness. There was a hint of confusion and then happiness filled his face. "Thank you, Mae," he smiled. From the light that shone above, I could see the light pink on his cheeks, and the red on his ears. He looked down at the sand next to me and moved his left hand near mine, putting his fingers under my right palm and interlocking our fingers. "Can I do this?" He asked, picking up his hand and mine, letting some sand granules fall from our hand.

"What does it mean?" I whispered, about the hand holding. I wanted to know if it was as friends or something more. I was still confused by the mean things he said in his gym and the things he had told me over the audio files. I didn't want to get my hopes up and then have them crushed.

"Did you listen to the audio files?" He asked, and I nodded. "You're confused still?" He asked, slightly confused himself. Over the audio files, he had told me that those mean words were just to push me away, but I was just being cautious because I didn't want to get hurt. I didn't want to be lied to.

"I just..." I started, and he waited patiently for me to think of the right words. I was nervous to say what I had wanted to, especially since it was Damien that was going to hear me. I had listened to the files where he told me he liked me. Some of them had even implied his feelings for me were deeper than just liking, but I couldn't figure out why; why he liked me. "I just don't want to get hurt," I whispered, deciding that being honest about this, since it was my first time liking someone this way, was the best way to go.

"I... I know trust doesn't come easy to you, so I intend on earning your trust. No matter how long it takes," he told me, looking into my eyes, and the softness and sincerity in his eyes felt too intense, so I looked away, feeling shy as I looked down.

"I trust you," I told him as I nodded. I looked back at him, and he smiled again, happy with my words. Either with the meaning of my words or just my words in general; since I was speaking, perhaps both. I started to think of other ways to show him how much I trusted him, and I started to think that maybe I should tell him about me.

Or more specifically, why I was mute.

Wouldn't it be fair since he told me about himself? My heart thudded in my chest at the idea of letting him know the truth about me. I didn't want to scare him away. What if I told him about Mitch, and he decided I was more baggage than he bargaining for?

"I'm starting to believe that," he nodded with a smile, and I gave a small smile too as I looked toward the waves. I wasn't able to smile happily because my thoughts were elsewhere. Should I tell him about me?

Best case scenario, he stayed and understood what I had gone through like I had with him, but would that be too much to ask for?

Worst case scenario, he decided I was too much baggage and decide to never talk to me again. Which would hurt me painfully because he was the first person I hadn't been raised with, that I spoke to.

But then you could move on from him, knowing he wasn't the one for you. My subconscious reminded me, and I nodded. If he couldn't accept my background as I had with his, then my subconscious was right, he wasn't meant for me, and it would be easier moving on. It would hurt like hell because he was someone I didn't want to lose, but if I did this, and he accepted me, he could be someone I gained.

I didn't want to carry this baggage anymore, that was what it felt like to me. Baggage, an anchor, holding me down and holding me from moving on to the future.

Now that Damien had told me about his past and let me know that I wasn't the only one who had suffered, it made me want to tell him what I had gone through; maybe not everything but some things. Just enough for him to be patient and know that eventually, I'll tell him everything. Which I would be willing to do if he accepted me.

"Since..." I started, and he looked at me, his eyes, wondering with what I was going to say. "Since you told me about you, I would like to tell you about me." My heart was racing, and my head felt tight. There were too much nervousness and too much adrenaline coursing through my body, it felt like it went straight to my head.

"You don't have to," he shook his head as he turned his body toward me. "I didn't tell you, hoping you would tell me about why you're... mute," he said, choosing his last word carefully, not wanting to offend me by his choice of word. "I told you because I wanted to show you that I trusted you."

It was very kind of him to assure me that I didn't have to tell him anything I wasn't ready to tell him, and it had made me want to tell him more, knowing that I could trust him, knowing that he was someone who was willing to wait until I was ready to tell my story. He was sweet, and that seemed to ease some of my nerves.

"And telling you, would be showing that I trust you," I whispered, trying to assure him, but he was still worried.

"Okay, I just... don't want you to regret telling me," he told me, worriedly, and I nodded.

"I won't," I assured, and he nodded. He waited, sitting by me, and looked down at our hands interlocked. I was glad he looked away from me because I didn't think I would be able to tell him what I was going to if he was looking at me. Questions filled my mind. What was too much? How much was I going to tell him? Was I going to go into detail?

I decided I would spare him the harsh details because those were ones I wasn't ready to share. He glanced back up at me and then back toward our hands. "When I was younger," I started off and instantly regretted that I chose to start off that way. "I used to talk, but when I was about seven and a half I stopped," I told him, and he nodded. He looked at me, waiting for me to continue to, and I settled on telling him some of the truth but not all of it. "My father wasn't the best person to raise my brother and I, and he was mean to us. He would yell at us and sometimes hit us too," I told him, lying about the sometimes part, and he nodded slightly. It was a small movement but since I was analyzing everything he was doing, I was able to catch it.

"And he's the reason you don't talk?" He asked, trying to make sense of what I was telling him, so I nodded, not sure what else to add without giving away too much. "But... isn't that normal for parents to hit their kids? My dad would do it to us, I mean, he stopped once we got older but... it never made us... you know... mute," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully again as he was still confused. I knew he wasn't trying to demean what I was telling him, but he wanted to fully understand. I knew the word sometimes was going to stick out.

"By sometimes... I mean almost every day even when we got older," I told him and looked at him for his reaction. He looked at me, looking deeply into my eyes, but I looked away once I saw him figure out what I meant.

"He was..." he trailed off, his voice thick with an emotion I wasn't sure of. Anger? Sorrow? Perhaps guilt? I nodded, knowing the next word he was going to say.

Abusive. That was the word.

"But I don't want to be defined by that," I told him, removing my hand from his as I turned to him a bit, shaking my head. My eyes pricked with a light layer of tears, but I blinked a couple of times, and they were gone. "I don't want to be seen as the one who went through something as I had and came out broken. I want to be stronger than that. And I know it's okay to be that type of person and then take time to heal, but I've lost so much already. I don't want to lose anything else," I admitted to him. Once I had started to explain how I felt, I couldn't seem to stop. It felt nice talking to someone who hadn't known what I had gone through and listened to me patiently.

"You are strong, Mae. Don't you see?" Damien asked as he scooted closer. "There are those people you speak of who are torn down by something you have gone through, and that's okay, you're right. Those people just take more time mending their hurting souls, and that's okay. Because it's okay to be broken; it's okay to not be okay. People need time. Everyone lives there life at a different pace, a different level."

It had felt like those were some of the words I had always needed to hear. My nose tinged with pain before my eyes watered, and I began shedding more tears. He brought me into his arms and hugged me, holding me together from not falling more apart. It truly felt okay to be broken, and that's what I was. And although I was in fact broken, there was nothing wrong with that.

It didn't mean I was weaker than everyone else. It didn't mean I was more fragile than anyone else. It simply meant I had survived far more than my body was able to. That I had fought a battle my entire life and won.

"Not many people walk upstanding when they walk out of something you've walked out of. Not many walkout standing tall like you do. It's me who's proud of you, Mae." Those were the words I had always needed to hear. That broke me more, but I realized once I had finished crying that those words weren't breaking me more. That's not what the feeling was. The feeling was my broken pieces mending. After years of never being whole with myself, I was finally healing.

I had finished shedding tears and wanted to pull away, so I can wipe my face. I started to lean a little away so he would know to let go, and he unwrapped his arms around me. I backed away and wiped my face. I sniffled and smiled because I was embarrassed that I was crying in front of him.

"Do you see me differently now?" I asked, repeating the question he had asked me. He offered a small smile as he shook his head.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "Can I ask you a question?" I nodded. "Why didn't you call the cops?"

I nodded as I realized why that never made sense to him. "You know the chief of police?" I asked, curious to know if he would have known the chief's name, and he nodded.

"Chief Ander... son," he finished and scoffed as he shook his head, understanding what I was telling him. "Your dad was the chief of police?" He asked incredulously, so I nodded. "Talk about a crooked system." He shook his head, disappointed by their lack of protection.

"Yeah," I nodded as I looked down, disappointed with how our justice system was.

"I met him," he said, and I looked at him, fearing that he had seen the monster Mitch was. I had wondered how much of the monster he had seen. "It was at the mall."

"The mall?" I asked, confused by the scenery. Mitch had never gone to the mall, he never needed to.

"Yeah, it was the day before school," he said, and I realized that was the day Zach and I had run out from Mitch while he was beating us. That was the only time we had done that. "You were there that day, and I think you caught me looking at you," he admitted and laughed. I gaped at him. It was him who was following me that day? This entire time I had always thought it was Mitch.

"You scared me that time," I told him, and he smiled cheekily, amused and guilty.

"Sorry, but I was trying to follow you so I could apologize, but then you kept running from me," he said. He looked in thought, and his face went flat with realization, making my heart race with curiosity. What had he figured out? "He was there and so were you," he pieced together, furrowing his eyebrows. "Was he looking for you?" He looked at me, waiting for my answer.

"Yeah," I told him, and he looked down. "Zach and I left that day when we weren't supposed to, and he got mad," I told him. It wasn't entirely the truth but it wasn't entirely a lie either... right?

"Did you get grounded?" He asked after a painful silence. I kept wondering if he could see through my lies. Would he not trust me if I lied to him? Would he think of me only as a liar?

"Something like that," I told him, and he nodded, but I wasn't sure he knew I was lying. I didn't want to tell him anything else about me, not because I didn't trust him, but because I didn't want to dampen the already darken mood. It was quiet, and he made no move to talk. I kept looking at him, at first to see if he had figured out my lies but as he looked at the waves in silence, I saw everything that had matured on him.

His shoulders grew wider since freshman year. His face had become thicker, more muscular as did the rest of his body. He wasn't the little boy that I had known freshman year. He was grown, he had matured, and I had wondered if I had as well. Was I the same as freshman year or had I matured as well?

"Do I look different?" I asked, deciding that if I asked, maybe he would answer and give me clarity. That seemed to have lightened the atmosphere around us, and he smiled.

"What do you mean?" He smiled as he looked at me.

"Like physically, do I look different from freshman year?" I asked, and he looked me over, but that made me nervous. It made me wonder if he would like what he saw.

"Mmm," he hummed in thought as his eyes scanned my body. His eyes stayed on my thighs, and I began to feel shy with the size of them. I knew some guys had liked thicker thighs and hoped he had as well. "You look more mature if that's what you're wondering?" I nodded, and he smiled. "You're taller too."

"Almost taller than you," I joked, even though he was in fact, a few inches taller.

"I'm five-eleven," he said smugly, proud of his tall height, and I laughed.

"I'm five-eight," I said with the same smugness as him. He smiled and stood. I stood too, knowing he wanted to measure our height. My height was always something I had hated, but as I got older and found value in my height, I grew to love it.

I looked at him, and I had to tilt my head just a bit to look at his full face. He smiled that I was shorter than him, and I had never really felt smaller than a guy before. Zach was relatively the same height as me, depending on what shoes he had worn. With James, I had sometimes felt smaller than him because he was six feet, but he was skinny, so it was balanced. With Damien, he was taller and bigger than me, his muscles made him so. I felt smaller than him, despite my tall height. "You're short," he said, and I laughed.

"Yeah, right," I scoffed with a smile, and he leaned closer to me. His lips were closer to my eyes, so I saw them first until he tilted his head lower a bit, allowing me to look into his shiny, grey eyes.

"Have you ever-" he got interrupted with Ryder's yelling, and he sighed. "I knew I should have brought them." He shook his head, and I smiled as I backed away. I backed away partially because I was scared of what he was going to say, even though I had a pretty good guess and because I wanted to know why Ryder was yelling.

"Why do you think he's yelling?" I smiled as I looked back at Damien, and he shook his head with a small look of annoyance.

"It's Ryder," he nodded as if that meant to make all the sense in the world, and I laughed because I understood. "He's probably pulling a prank on one of the guys, and they probably got mad at him," he chuckled.

"Do they pull pranks on him back?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Sometimes, but they don't always get him that good. No one has pulled a really good prank on him, just mediocre ones," he said as he nodded, and that stirred an idea in my head.

"I have an idea" I declared, conjuring up the perfect plan for Ryder.