Capítulo 346: 25. How Deep Is Your Love?
I woke up to a searing pain coursing through my body, every movement a reminder of the metallic presence within me. The sensation of cold metal running through my veins was overwhelming, causing my head to throb and my mind to feel heavy with pressure. I was a disheveled mess, my thoughts muddled and fatigued, confined to my bed. The soreness of my skin persisted, intensifying the pain and casting a dark haze over my vision.
Amidst the discomfort, Mirella's soothing voice echoed in my mind, breaking through the chaos. She explained she had deliberately disrupted my anesthesia to induce sweating, a necessary step in removing the metals and herbs from our bodies. She assured me she would support me through the process, her presence extending my ability to remain conscious.
Before I could respond, the heat engulfed me, causing beads of sweat to form on my brow. I could sense the pungent odor of the metals as they mingled with my perspiration, the combination of silver, platinum, and tin permeating the air. The sweat burned my skin, leaving behind traces of grey and green, evidence of the herbs being expelled from my body.
The relentless sweating drained my strength, leaving me nauseous and writhing in bed. The pain intensified, radiating through my body, and as I shifted, my left shoulder dislocated once again, sending waves of agony coursing through me. In my weakened state, I lay on my side, observing the blistering effects of the sweat on my skin, realizing just how emaciated I still appeared.
In the midst of my distress, I noticed I had managed to remove the cannula from my body, blood still trickling from the puncture wound. The sound of voices and muffled footsteps grew louder, drawing nearer. I hadn't even registered which room within the medbay I occupied. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Damon and Samuel entered the room. Samuel's curses filled the air, echoed by Damon's concerned expletives.
Damon approached me with urgency. His brows furrowed in worry. "No, Mimi. We have to stop. This isn't sustainable. You won't survive this," he commanded, his tone serious and unwavering.
Desperate to reassure them, I stammered, "I'm fine. It's nothing."
Damon let out a weary sigh, running his hand through his hair. Meanwhile, Samuel rummaged through the medicine cabinet, retrieving something. Damon moved to a nearby table, grabbed bandages, and carefully wiped the blood from my neck. His lips curled in a soft curse as he exposed my blistered skin. I caught a glimpse of him licking my blood from his fingers, a sight that both made my bloodlust surface a little and intrigued me. Was that intentional or just a habit? Samuel approached me, holding a couple of drip bags and a fresh cannula.
As he looked at Damon, frustration clear on his face, he muttered, "Damn it, Mirella started all of this. She tried to interfere earlier. It's unbelievable how a woman can't stay away from Mimi for long, especially when Mimi has metals in her system. That's the reason."
Damon let out a soft curse under his breath. I barely felt the prick in my arm as Samuel inserted the needle. Damon's teeth clenched, likely in response to the taste of my blood. So he had to taste my blood in order to get his substance ready.
I glanced at him and said, "By the way, I forgive you for everything. I understand you needed to vent; you haven't been on the gigs much. I've been enduring this sweat for a while now. Maybe this will provide some relief."
Damon approached me and squatted down. "Mimi, it'll stop soon. Once I get done with this special sedative that will put Mirella to sleep, you won't have to endure this anymore. You can't handle it. Your body can't handle it. You are losing your straps. You understand. But it'll stop in a few minutes. You see, Damien tricked me into sleeping with those women, and believe me, it wasn't me in that shed. Somehow, he managed to extract my scent and burdened me with all those horrific memories."
I nodded wearily. For some reason, I couldn't bear to contemplate what to do next. The pain gnawed at my frail strength. Samuel came to my aid, helping me onto my back and adjusting my position to ease some of the discomfort. The pain nearly pushed me back into unconsciousness, and I noticed Damon's concerned gaze fixed upon me.
Meanwhile, Samuel reinserted the cannula. Damon sighed, stood up, and walked away for a few minutes. He returned and sank his teeth into my neck, releasing a thick liquid that felt like porridge in my veins. I glimpsed Mirella, now unconscious and slumped in her coffin, as the lid slammed shut. Sturdy iron chains once again secured the coffin.
The intense heat diminished, along with my weariness. Samuel set the drip bag down. I didn't want to lie on my back; it hurt my spine, as I was still so emaciated. I contemplated changing my position and began to roll over in bed. Both Samuel and Damon rushed to my side. They pressed me onto the bed, not letting me move an inch. Their hands were gentle but firm.
Samuel pleaded, "Mimi, please stay still. The medicine will put you to sleep soon, but your joints are stiffening up, so let's not aggravate them any further. You may have noticed that your shoulder was already dislocated, so let's not exacerbate the situation."
Samuel's determination was obvious. They held me steady until I felt my eyelids grow heavy and succumbed to sleep.
Damon and Samuel meticulously wiped down Mimi's body, their hands moving with precision as they ensured each joint was properly in place. The scent of sweat and herbs lingered in the air, a reminder of the burns and bruises that adorned Mimi's healed but now scarred skin.
Gently, they washed Mimi's body multiple times, the cool water providing a temporary relief. Damon carefully drained several liters of human blood into Mimi's stomach; He also put one enormous bag of his own blood into Mimi's cannula, a lifeline to aid in the strengthening of the straps. Time was of the essence as Mimi faced a long and arduous recovery.
The infusion of human blood acted as a cleansing agent, helping the herbs to bind and ultimately be expelled through the urine. Mimi's body was catheterized, producing an astonishing twenty liters of green pee each day. With their unique properties, Damon's dentifrices ensured the herbs remained bound in the urine while the human blood worked to cleanse Mimi's system of drugs, herbs, and toxins.
As the dental solution pulled the herbs into the urine, discussions arose about attempting to bind the metals left behind once the herbs were eliminated. Mimi had already undergone several chelation treatments, enduring them despite her weakened state. Damon refrained from placing teeth in Mimi's delicate neck for now, fearing that the weight and pressure could cause harm. Instead, he proceeded with caution, taking things more slowly.
When Damon arrived at the medbay, he noticed Mimi had only 60 straps remaining, a gradual loss because of excessive sweating. However, his blood donation had provided Mimi with an additional 40 straps, bringing the current count to around 100.
They carefully placed Mimi in bed, mindful of her fragile state and the risk of pressure sores. To ease this concern, they positioned her so that she almost floats in the air; the support ensuring the joints remained stable. Now, all they could do was wait. Only once Mimi regained strength could they assess the condition of her organs and carefully plan the next steps.
Damon cursed himself, his voice dripping with frustration. In the mirror, he could see the disappointment etched on his face, his eyes filled with self-loathing. The gig had gone terribly wrong, and the room was still echoing with the sound of shattered expectations. He vividly remembered the chaotic rush, the cacophony of voices, and the thumping beat of his heart in his ears.
The dead victims, Mimi's expression when she had seen her dead friends, the ones he could not save. The raw pain that had flashed in Mimi's face when she had been in her study, updating the status of those who had been killed, and how he somehow knew that the trip that she was talking about would be very rough for her.
Instead of being a husband, a partner that Mimi longed for, he had gone to the house, taken his girl's phone, and started to call and see who was free. He remembered the scent of sweat and desperation filling the air as he jumped from one woman to another, seeking solace in their temporary embrace. But it was all empty, a shallow attempt to fill the void within him. He berated himself for not having the strength to resist.
Mimi, the one person who needed him the most, had been left behind. He could still hear her voice, the tremor of hurt and disappointment. In his anger, he expected her to be there, to be his loyal companion, but deep down, he knew it was unfair. He had been angry at her when she had revealed the truth about that trip and then refused to be his lap cat. He could understand Mimi's need to act, yet he had gotten angry, and Damien had come out.
Damon's mind was in turmoil, swirling like molten lava. He had yearned for release. Those women had been a way to numb the pain. But Mimi's desire for revenge only added fuel to the fire. He couldn't understand why he resented Mimi for not being by his side despite knowing the darkness that consumed her. She had lost some very dear friends in that gig, and Mimi was so much younger than he was, so much more human than he could be. He should remember it.
The consequences unfolded as Damien, the embodiment of his inner turmoil, took control. Damon felt the weight of his weakness, the realization that Damien had driven him to seek solace in the arms of other women. Yet Mimi remained forgiving, her healing presence providing temporary respite.
But Damon's doubt lingered, unsure of how long Mimi's understanding would endure. He had witnessed the twisted pleasure that Damien reveled in; the satisfaction derived from Mimi's pain. It disgusted him, yet he couldn't deny the allure of that forbidden pleasure.
The memories flooded his mind, Damien's voice taunting him, trying to break him down. The images replayed, tormenting him as he fought to suppress them. He knew it was Damien's way of weakening him, of keeping him under his control.
But what haunted Damon the most was the memory Damien had forced upon him. In that shed, he could smell all of those scents: blood, sweat, and pain. He had seen Mimi lying on a hard table, thin as a skeleton, full of wounds and sores, with no healthy skin. The scent of passionfruit filled the air, intertwining with the pain and confusion. Damon could still feel the weight of her in his arms, her belief that he took pleasure in her suffering. He desperately yearned to make her understand, to convince her it was not what it seemed.
His self-reproach and doubt only fueled the growing volcano within him, Damien gaining strength with every passing moment. Damon focused his mind, pushing back against the darkness that threatened to consume him.
Mimi lay motionless under the effects of anesthesia for yet another month. Damon's efforts had weakened Mirella to where she couldn't come out from Mimi because of what she had done to Mimi's straps for at least two years. The thought of Mirella tampering with Mimi's straps, causing them to loosen, made Damon uneasy. It was something he had to monitor closely.
The infection that had plagued Mimi was finally gone, leaving her joints tight, healthy, and no longer fragile. Despite her weight of only 38 kilos, Adam and Samuel were present in the house, providing support and ensuring she consumed enough food to recover and regain strength.
Damon secretly wished he could help Mimi recover from this ordeal, but he had to face the truth—he was needed for the greater good of almost all vampires. Carrying the sleeping Mimi from the upstairs medbay to her own bed in their new residence in Chicago, Damon gently placed her on the downstairs bed.
Letting out a sigh, he yearned to stay by her side, but the presence of Nick, the Original, compelled him to leave. Nick's relentless pursuit of favor with the new elders had led him to commit yet another act of violence, killing them. Damon knew that if he didn't appease those who clung to the idea of having elders, the vampire society would descend into chaos.
With his current strength, Damon was now one of the most powerful vampires around, and he had the responsibility of restoring order. He couldn't take his phone with him, as the app on it was a secret means of locating Mimi. Ever since the hibernation incident, Damon had placed a tiny transmitter on Mimi, allowing him to find her almost effortlessly.
Wallet. Same thing. Not everyone needs to know what Mimi looks like. He had glued his wallet to Mimi and her wedding picture, flank wedding. Mimi had bought this wallet for him, and emotions were attached to it. Now that Damon knew his enemies, let's say that black witches would be involved in this mess.
Now, black witches are not good news. For example, if this wallet fell into the hands of witches, evil witches could give ungodly power to certain wicked spells. Black witches could tap into the emotions of other creatures. Those emotions could be sucked out of objects and things, whether they were good or evil, as long as they were strong enough for various spells.
Damon's work sometimes led him too close to very evil black witches, who happily took the powerful love of a vampire over a thousand years old and all the other emotions he felt when he looked at the picture of Mimi in his wallet and used them for evil purposes. He didn't tell Mimi everything. He didn't want her to go after all the black witches.
Silently, he tiptoed into her dimly lit bedroom. His gaze fixated on her slumbering figure. Soft rays of morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on her peaceful face. The bed, untouched by their union, beckoned him with a sense of longing. With a heavy sigh, he carefully placed his wallet and phone on a dainty mahogany table positioned beside her bed.
He knew Mimi would be disheartened when she discovered them, but duty called, priorities overshadowing his desires. Damon felt a mixture of confusion and anger, berating himself for his own weakness. Mimi had always been the one to bear the burden, and he needed to find clarity, to banish these haunting memories from his mind, or at least bury them deep within, away from their perverse pleasure, the sensation that Damien had allowed him to indulge in.
Yet, a lingering doubt gnawed at his consciousness. Was Damien real, or merely a separate entity within his fractured mind, an embodiment of his twisted desires? Was he a twisted, fragmented being suffering from multiple personalities? Damon had no recollection of his childhood; his earliest memories only surfaced around the age of ten, faint and hazy, barely recognizable.
He struggled to recall even the features of his own parents. He did not remember a twin brother named Damien. The only person he could remember was Stefan, his younger brother, whom he had left in the care of their parents when he departed from home. Stefan was merely three years old at the time.
Vague memories of their parents' disappointment in Stefan lingered, as if he hadn't met their expectations. Once again, Damon blamed himself for not being there for Stefan and for allowing their parents to mold him into a remorseless killer known as the Ripper. Deep in thought, he quietly exited Mimi's room, exited the house, and slipped into his car.
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