Kill Switch (Devil's Night, #3)

by Penelope Douglas

She’d be unbelievably angry, but it was the only thing I could do to make sure she absorbed it and got a chance to see past it. To make sure she knew the man I was with her was what was real.

he was gonna tell her…he wanted to be with her…😭

“Don’t let me go,” I told her, breathing hard. “No matter what you hear or what they say, don’t let me go.”

He threw a punch, and it was the first time in years I hadn’t been ready to fight back. I didn’t even want to. If I lost her, I didn’t even care.

He was having me arrested. But I didn’t care about that as much as I worried that she wasn’t responding to me. Please don’t leave me.

I’d defiled her, like I knew I would. She would never dance like an innocent again. She’d never have the wonder on her face she had when she was on that motorcycle. I’d changed her forever. I’d bent and twisted and broken everything that made her the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.

“I’m gonna . . .” My mouth was so dry. “I’m gonna send you to jail.” His lips rested against my cheek, and I thought I felt his body shake with a silent sob. But as I fell into sleep and oblivion, his words were sharp and clear in my ear. “Then you better hope I never get out.”

again, i’m still not understand why she hated him sm just from the two interactions she had w him in hs. and she barely knew him from before that!

“After everything that was happening in that house happened to him.” “It’s no excuse,” I pointed out. And she agreed. “No, it’s not.” she said. “It’s a reason. Plain and simple. There’s always a reason why things are as they are.”

“You taught me how to survive that day,” he said. “You taught me how to be strong and how to get to the next minute. And the next and the next. I could never forget, and when you came back in high school, and I had changed into this, because I’d seen so much shit,” he went on, “and my desires had morphed into something ugly and twisted, but I’d fucking survived nonetheless and didn’t swallow the bad for anyone anymore, because you had taught me how to get rid of the shit. I finally craved one more thing I realized had been missing when I laid eyes on you again.”

this is why i love damon and winter sm

“I wanted something good,”

“You made the world look different,” he told me. “You always had, and it struck me as odd, because I hated to watch my mother dance growing up. It was just some elaborate lie that I couldn’t stomach, but you . . .” He trailed off, searching for words. “It was pure, and it was a dream. I didn’t want to change you. I just wanted to be a part of it all. Of everything beautiful you were going to do.”

“Nothing was a lie,” he whispered. And then he walked out, and my chest ached so badly, for air or for him, I didn’t know, but I ran to the window, yanked it up, and drew in a lungful of air, feeling everything give way. Slip away, fade, and ease. My fear. My worry. My hatred. My anger.

maybe bc you told him you wanted him to die and that you’d never love him?? be so fucking fr w me rn

the rest of us are felons.” “Hey, it’s America.” Will leaned back, slumping in his chair with a lazy smile. “Anything is possible.”

seeing as trump is our president rn, this is so very fitting

I wanted them back, though, and while my father taught me powerful men didn’t apologize, maybe—just this once—I could choke out the words. I had fucked up, after all, and I was actually pretty lucky they hadn’t taken my head over everything. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

I let her go, standing there, but then I heard her footsteps stop and her voice behind me. “Michael and Kai are smarter than you, you know?” she said. I listened. “Because if there’s one thing they know about revenge, Damon, it’s that it won’t feel nearly as good as her love will.” I clenched my teeth together against the ache in my gut, but I felt it anyway. Fuck you, Rika. “But I think you already know that, don’t you?” she continued. Fuck you so much. “She’ll make you stronger,” she said. “And we need you strong.”

I closed my eyes, not wanting to feel the shit I felt when I was nineteen when I let myself . . . want her. When I let myself fucking love her. When I let my guard down and believed what was happening between us was stronger than anything and guys like me could have a completely different life. But God, Rika was right. I knew she was right. Nothing in my life had ever felt as good as Winter happy because of me.

Was I ever going to be done with Winter? Did I want any other woman? No. And what if I got her pregnant? Would my kids hate me for hurting her? Was it just some endless fucking cycle because I wouldn’t face that Rika was right and Michael and Kai knew what I refused to see? I wanted her. I broke last night because I didn’t want this. I just wanted that kid back who sat in my lap and drove my car. I made her happy. Me. And instead of sticking to the plan and making her hate that she wanted me, I hated that I still wanted her. None of it was a lie, except my name. It was real, and I wanted it again. I fucking loved her.

“What’s the noise outside?” I asked over my shoulder. I felt him approach and waited. “Mr. Torrance is having the ‘stupid, gaudy, fucking fountain’ removed,” he

lol

The pull of him was everywhere. I remembered so well the feel of teasing each other, laughing through a kiss, the heat of his arms around me, and the way his body craved mine. The way he wanted and the way I’ve always ached for his roughness and danger, his whispers and him. The way I always saw Damon Torrance’s raven eyes in my head, even before I knew my ghost was Damon Torrance.

“I might kiss you again when we’re older,” he says. “Just so you know.”

aww how cute

“You don’t speak to him, and you are never allowed back at this house,”

“But I want her to come back,” Damon says. “Please.”

they were just kids, man!

bro he was protecting her the whole time! he was standing up for her how he could never stand up for himself

I slip, scream, and fall, his face the last thing I see before I see nothing at all.

that’s poetic

Oh, my God. Tears pooled as I realized. He hadn’t taken away the fountain. He’d replaced it. My eyes stung. It was a fountain maze. I stood there in the center, towers of water shooting up and spilling around me as the tears started to fall. Hiding me in a world within a world. Just like his fountain when he was growing up. Just like the tree house. Damon, what did you do? My head fell back, and everything crumbled. My heart, my head, my hate, and my grudge, and I just wanted to see him. To feel him and put his forehead to mine and feel him breathe. To have him pick me up and hold me in here, where the water and the walls were high enough to hide us. I loved him. I still loved him. Goddamn him.

“You’re supposed to be wearing your uniform,” I whispered, feeling the jeans and brushing the hoodie with my hand as I reached up to touch his face. “This is how you knew me then.” I appreciated that he wanted to be who I fell for in high school. But they were always the same person. “As long as you’re Damon Torrance, I don’t care what you wear,” I told him.

i love love

“Who’s fucking you?” Oh, God, I was coming. “Damon Torrance,” I breathed out.

hot

And he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and this was it. Right here. Everything I wanted to feel; it brought me even more happiness than dancing did. He was still the boy, promising to kiss me again someday, and I was still her, never wanting to leave whatever little private world we created when we were together.

I got the impression from his friends that he was possessive with more than just me. If he found something good, he fought to keep it. It could be a scary thing. But it also meant he knew what was important. He worked to keep what he valued.

“What’s your tattoo?” I asked quietly, remembering how my friend noticed he had one. He didn’t say anything for a moment, or ask how I knew, but then he answered, “A decaying snowflake.” I raised my eyebrows. A decaying . . . “Why?” I asked. “Because of ‘Winter’ by Walter de la Mare,” he replied softly. “Something still beautiful, even after what I did to her.” Her. Me. The snowflake represented winter.

Everything with him was like home.

“It wasn’t my impression she was a prisoner, sir,” he said. “Was it your impression that I might eat ice cream out of your skull for not telling me she was going?”

he says the most insane shit

It was kind of a date. I kept her clothes on. Most of them.

“You left me,” I said, her chin tucked on my shoulder as she held me from behind. “Everyone is always doing that.” “I needed to think.” “Think,” I repeated, shaking my head. “Fuck you, baby. It was perfect last night. There were no problems.” I reached behind, ruffling her hair. “You’re going to do it again,” I said, dropping my hand. “You should’ve just left me there. Why didn’t you?” She was quiet, nudging her cheek into mine as she found her words. “Because I was afraid of life without the hope of you to look forward to.”

“People think because I’m blind that I’m dumb,” she told me. “They treat me like a child. I want to prove I’m capable. That I’m someone.” “You should’ve been strong,” I replied, my fingers freezing now all of a sudden. “If anyone knew what a vile cunt this world could be, it was us. But all I needed was you, and all you should’ve needed was me, and fuck all the rest. We would’ve done it. We would’ve won.” “I came back,” she said again. “I was barely gone fifteen minutes. I came right back.” She kissed my temple. “And we will win. We will.”

“You’re not dying,” Winter argued. “You haven’t even told me you love me yet.” Oh, that. “Someday,” I teased. “Damon, wake up.” She jostled me. “Come on, we’re doing this, right? We’re in love. We’re doing this.”

I needed to think, she’d said. My dick was inside you four times last night. Now you needed to think? Really?

And—in the back of my mind where I would admit it to myself—he was going to leave me. He was just going to let go.

he was gonna let go bc he thought you didn’t want him so what was the point for him? you ran at the first sign of trouble

I’d rather pierce my eyeballs than lie here, resting. I’d rather chug a gallon of piss-warm milk than stay in bed doing nothing. I’d rather get a third-degree burn on my dick. Or develop a peanut allergy.

lol

“Damon, man . . .” He almost hyperventilating as the water rose to our chests, slowly consuming the car. “We gotta . . . we gotta get out of here. I can’t . . . I can’t . . .” He started feeling the roof and searching, looking everywhere for anything he could find, gasping in short breaths. I turned from Winter, gripping his face in my hands. “Just breathe,” I told him. “Trust me. We’re getting out of here.” He met my eyes, starting to break down as his chin trembled. “Please, don’t . . .” he begged. “Please don’t leave me.” I clenched my jaw, shame washing through me all over again at what I let Trevor do to him. How I left him. How I would never have lived with it if anything had happened to him that night. I held the back of his neck and planted my forehead to his. “I never did,” I promised.

The anger and fury and heat and need—years of it leading to this moment when we finally knew what we were and who we lived for. Red. Out of all the colors, I liked red the best.

the red led them to each other

The rosary, the barrette, the fountain . . . I bit him. What? The memory was so fleeting, but it was vivid and strong. “I bit him that day,” I said out loud, realization flooding back. “Before we went to the tree house. He let me bite him in the fountain. He was glad I did it. Why?” What were we doing in that fountain? And why was it more important to Damon than what happened afterward in the tree house?

see pg.637

“Our life is a series of plans,” she finally said. “Days, weeks, months, years . . . And then, there are moments. Moments you don’t see coming and you don’t plan, but everything you need, all the things you want to feel, are in that moment.”

He lied to me. He shouldn’t have done it, and he paid the price. But there was so much more than that between us. Buried in the cracks of all the broken things, where the words were always true and days were too long without him. When no one else could make the world look like he could, and even after years, in the quiet parts of my mind, I missed the feel of his eyes on me. Maybe on those nights, sneaking into my house and taking me on adventures, he was the real Damon Torrance.

I stared at her, thinking about all the times that would come up over the years ahead, when she would think we’d move faster without her. Have more fun without her. Get to enjoy the full extent of an adventure without her. Have more freedom without her hanging on. I wasn’t living like that. I wouldn’t let her live like that. “That’s not how we’re doing things,” I said. “That’s not your life anymore.”

If I ever thought I couldn’t do something with her, then I wasn’t doing it at all. “Your place is at my side,” I told her.

“Having fun?” I asked her, helping her off. She tossed the can and moved the pack to her back again. “I don’t know.” She laughed. “How much does this fun cost?” “Sticking with me for the rest of your life,” I replied, putting my arm around her waist. “That’ll suck.”

At a certain point, I started wondering—did I behave the way I did because I could? Or did I behave the way I did because it was the only thing keeping me alive in that house? Because eleven-year-olds shouldn’t be thinking about how to end their lives.

I could’ve had a different life. Christiane would’ve been different. I would’ve had good parents.