Communication

It was quite dark outside by the time Damon had come back home, and by then I'd already gone through my day beginning with bidding my friends farewell as they left the packgrounds, trying to ignore the letter as I researched a few old friends of mine, and then developing into an agonising feat of doing everything in my power to just ignore the hypnotic pull the white piece of paper had on me as it sat there on the dressing table, almost begging me to dive through its contents.
And now, as I held the thing in my hand, I could not help but want to do the exact opposite. I wanted to tear the white paper up and burn it, destroying everything inside, all the nightmares, all the trauma... all of Lucien. But I couldn't, and by the look on Damon's face I could tell that he desperately was seeking answers which he thought would be attainable in a letter clearly meant solely for me, at least, that was what I assumed.
"Are you going to open it? It's been an hour and you've just stared at the thing."
I took a breath and shifted in his lap, now physically aware of the time that had passed by, by the aching in my stiff joints. Slowly, I began to open up the piece of white paper, with shaky hands and shaky, heavy breaths. The page was stained in black pen fashioned neatly into bone-chillingly familiar handwriting.
"Should I read it for you?" Damon asked as he pulled me closer against his chest. I shook my head no. I needed to do this for myself. And so, I began to glance over the letter and as I did, I began to realise that it was not a letter at all. Instead, it read the following:
**Dark passages and empty rooms hollowed out by silence.
They were spaces only to be filled by your bright presence,
But now the light has been smothered by lonely darkness.
And so, my little Vixen, stained and soaked in shining violence
I await your return, your light, your brilliance, in great suspense.**
I had to say, the rhyming was a creepy touch. In fact, the entire thing just screamed mental instability and I threw the piece of paper, allowing it to float in the air for a while, and then fall to the ground, as if it were unaffected by my attempt at ridding myself from it.
"What's wrong? What's in the letter?"
I looked up at Damon, now shaking more than I had ever shaken before and then said softly, "It's not a letter at all."
He stared down at me, eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion before asking, "It's not?"
I shook my head, no and then sighed as I got off of him and then bent down to pick up the toxic piece of paper by the corner. I handed it to him, and he began reading through it, but instead of fright, his face showed even more confusion.
"I don't understand."
Of course, he wouldn't. He didn't share the history I did with Lucien.
"It's an invitation."
"An invitation? To where?"
I paused a moment, before uttering beneath my breath, "Home... his home... *our* home."
*Our*.
It should not have been a word to fit so well next to ‘home’, but it did. It was the first place I felt safe, the first place I felt the warmth of thick cotton sheets, the feeling of having a full belly of warm, delicious food, of being able to be clean. But it was also the place which had slowly begun to suffocate me with nothing but him in every room, in every passage, in every crevice of the house. *We* were so constant that even if the place were to be demolished, abandoned and destroyed I was sure traces of our past selves would still stay behind, haunting what was left of the ruins of *our* home.
I wondered, for a moment, if he would be there waiting. Handsome face, now certainly visible of some of the features Damon carried. His mouth in a smirk, not malicious, not cruel, but painfully calm, collected, *charming*. His eyes would glint again under the artificial lighting in the house. It was always brightly lit and so, his golden eyes were always shining brightly as they gazed over at me, always watching, always waiting. But I could never understand what he was waiting for. What was the reason for that look in his eyes, the look of longing? Admittedly, it always had me curious and at one point in time, I found myself obsessed with that look, so much so that even now, I could picture it all over his face, embedded into the richness of his eyes.
"...Jasmine?" I suddenly heard. It was then that I realised that Damon must have been having quite the conversation with me and I, unfortunately had become preoccupied in the thoughts of Lucien.
"Huh? Sorry I was just... lost for a moment there."
Damon nodded, and then repeated what he had said before, "I think it would be best if we go and pay my baby brother a little visit, don't you? And while we're at it, let's bring Oliver along too."
"Why Oliver?"
"Because I'm going to fucking make Lucien watch as I behead Oliver in front of him. Then maybe, just maybe I can get some sense knocked into him."
I shook my head at Damon and rolled my eyes. "Nice tactic, violence and beheading your own family... to scare your own family. Honestly, could the Michaels family get even more dysfunctional?"
And almost like magic, there was suddenly a knock on the door followed by angry yells coming from London.
Damon took in a deep breath, cracked his knuckles and then said, "Well, we're about to find out. Should I explain, or are you going to?"
"She's your sister."
"She's your friend."
"Please? I love you."
I raised my eyebrow at him and folded my arms over my chest. "You're taking advantage of those three words."
He sighed again and was about to say something when London came storming into the sitting room with Chester pale and panicked behind her.
*This was going to be interesting.*
"What's this I hear about you two beating up Oliver? I mean I know he's an asshole but, come on."
I honestly thought I was not going to get involved, but apparently, according to London, if Damon was in trouble, so was Jasmine.
"Listen, London, I don't think it's any of your business."
So, were neither of us going to explain?
"Um... Damon? Don't you think... you need to tell her?" I asked and waved my hand between the two of them. London looked as confused as ever, and rightfully so as Damon and I began to quarrel.
"Why does she need to know!"
"Because she's your sister!"
"My sister? My SISTER!? She stopped being my sister the second my mother died, and she blamed it all on me!"
And suddenly the entire room fell very, very silent and I honestly wished I was somewhere else, perhaps burning in hell, I'm sure that would be more comfortable than this situation.
"What else was I supposed to do, love you for killing dad and killing mom. It was your fault... all your fault because you couldn't keep your temper in check."
Damon said nothing to her, he just looked down, and slowly I began to see the shame appear all across his face, disfiguring the happy and gentle look he had been wearing just a few moments ago. His newfound shame was a look I hated on him, simply because it did not belong there. He had done nothing wrong and, although London was a good friend of mine, Damon was my mate, and I would not let anyone break him down.
"I'm sorry, what did you just say to Damon? His fault? You think it's his fault? What was he supposed to do, let your father beat his mother to death? Are you fucking serious? Damon had two choices, either watch his mother die slowly, or put an end to his father's abuse, and quite frankly, I think he made a damn good choice, because his mother was free in her final moments. Sad, yes, depressed, yes, but free, nonetheless. And quite frankly I'd take freedom over anything else in this world."
London stared at me wide-eyed, and so did Damon. I would be lying if I said I didn't mean to be so abrupt and well... bitchy, but I wasn't. This family was so divided and dysfunctional it was not even funny.
London, after a few moments of gaping finally closed her mouth and then straightened up and scowled at me. "Excuse me? Who do you-"
"Who do I think I am? I'm Damon's fucking mate. You know nothing about your brother, Damon. Can't you see it when you look at him?"
She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and then asked, "See what?"
I took Damon's hand in mine and pulled him along as I walked towards London. Finally, when we were right in front of her, I let his hand go and then walked behind London and placed my hands on her shoulders.
"Look up into his eyes." She refused at first, but I gently placed my hand under her chin and lifted her head up so that they were both gazing at each other, as if for the first time.
"Beneath the surface, can't you see all of that warmth shining through? Can't you see-"
"Her..." She gently reached up and placed her hand on her brother's cheek and slowly he leaned in and placed his forehead on hers before taking his hands in his and clutching them to his chest. And it was then that the tears began rolling, but they didn't fall from London's eyes, they fell from Damon's.
"I-I wouldn't have done it if I'd have known she would die. I honestly would not have. I'd have just... hurt him, but I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting her anymore. I'm so sorry, London, I'm so sorry."
"No," London uttered, and I was really about to punch her in the face when, she continued, "I'm sorry for blaming you. In all honesty, it was just a cover-up. I felt guilty for not being able to do anything... for having *never* done anything, and I felt bad that you had to take on all of that responsibility on your shoulders. So, instead of admitting my guilt, and apologising, and being there for you, I chose the easier route, I blamed you."
Damon smiled gently and then said softly, "It's okay, little sister."
"You were always such a big softie," she said as she looked up at him and pinched his cheek, "I can't believe you let that side of you die along with dad-" she then turned towards me, and smiled, "-but I am happy that Jasmine came along and brought it back to life."
And that was all they needed, communication.
I wondered, however, whether what we were going to now have to communicate to her would leave her as distraught and disillusioned as it had left Damon. The fact that her brother Lucien was, in essence, a psychopathic maniac with a very unhealthy obsession with me.
I let the two siblings bond for just a moment more, before clearing my throat and directing their attention to me. They had just made up and so I decided that, as a responsible and considerate person who wanted nothing but peace in this house before the chaotic mess of a circus was to begin, I would be the barer of bad news.
"London, there's something I need to tell you... it's about your brother, Lucien."
----
The term 'a wolf in sheep's clothing' is one which should be remembered when thinking of Lucien. Honestly I haven't really introduced him in person except for a little snippet near the beginning of the novel so I am truly excited to start focusing on him and his crazy, obsessive, mind-bogglingly psychotic behaviour because, if I'm being honest, Lucien has become my favourite Michaels sibling (shameless Lucien fan because what's a story without a complex villain).
Stay safe! Stay healthy! Sending you, yes you reading this right now, all my love!