The Untouchable Damien Royce

Chapter 1

The Long Walk Home

2:45 pm

Oak-Haven Penitentiary.

The prison gates shut loudly behind him, causing a flinch to course through Damien as he turned back, looking at the place that turned him into a completely different man from when he had come in three years ago.

More than anything, he was happy, relieved, and grateful to be out of this place once and for all. Damien stood on the sidewalk and expelled a long, deep breath, finding himself enjoying the fresh, crisp air that cascaded over his skin. It was the first time in three years that the air didn't feel suffocating, didn't smell like the deep, putrid odor of desperate, sweaty, barely bathed inmates who had made dirt a way of life and hunger an accustomed culture.

This particular air, outside of the prison wall and gate, was refreshing and welcoming, as if welcoming him to the life that awaited him. A large grin broke across Damien's face. The road was deserted; there was no one waiting to receive him for now, but it didn't matter to him. This was heaven, this was homecoming.

Adjusting the strap of the lightweight duffel bag that hung on his shoulder, Damien took a few steps forward. The bag contained a pair of trousers and a shirt, a toothbrush, and a thick stack of letters he had written during his duration in prison, but never sent.

‘Chloe, I'm coming home. Finally’

He mused within himself, trying to picture the welcoming grin that his wife was bound to greet him with. With that image in mind, Damien added a bounce to his step as he found his way towards the bus stop, following the directions the warden had given him.

A part of him wondered if Chloe would recognize him, as he also felt different. Gone was the scrawny, desperate kid that walked into the courtroom a few years ago, and in his place was a heavy-set man with broader shoulders that had been gained from countless grueling hours spent lifting rusted iron weights in the prison yard. His skin was tougher, and he had literally grown a tough skin.

Unable to stop the memories that accosted him, Damien couldn't help but remember the day his fate was sealed; the day life as he knew it shattered.

“Guilty"

Were the words of the prosecutor, as he looked at him as though Damien was a cockroach he longed to crush under his feet. Though his crime was minimal and a means of survival and an act of duty, nonetheless, it was still a crime.

He had stolen money and a bag of hurriedly filled provisions from the pantry of his then employers, The Pierce, whilst he had been working as a temporary gardener. They held a massive Gala to celebrate one of their wins, which had been the perfect opportunity for him.

Looking back, he knew it was a stupid and desperate move, but back then, his hands were tied. Chloe had been extremely thin back then and had been craving good-quality meals. It didn't help that his in-laws' company had hit a rough patch, and everything welfare was left in his hands. He toiled night and day, working his ass off, but it was never enough nor appreciated, but he couldn't stand to see his beautiful wife suffer from mere hunger, even if the penny the Pierce threw at him could barely feed one person.

The Pierce had wanted him to rot, using every bit of their influence to ensure he got the maximum sentence for such a crime and a first-time offender.

If he lived to be a hundred, Damien could never forget the aghast look on her face, her red eyes with tears streaming down her face as she sobbed, covering her mouth with trembling hands as she whisper-shouted,

“I'll wait for you, Damien! I'll be here, waiting!"

Her words and that memory were the only things that he held on to on bad days, the things that kept him sane in the darkest of nights and moments, when it seemed like all hope was lost.

Chloe had come to him while he was imprisoned, informing him of the Gold jewelry her mother stole from the Pierce household at the Gala, the same day and place he had stolen the provisions from.

She had begged him to take the fall for it, “for the sake of our additional family,” touching her swollen belly as she looked at him hopefully.

Damien realized that it was just an extra year that would be added to his two years, and he knew he would do it just so his wife wouldn't be stressed, coupled with their baby's arrival.

Despite all he had been through, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again if it meant Chloe didn't have to go to bed crying from hunger or watching her mother suffer in jail.

On getting to the bus stop, with no bus in sight, safe for a lone old woman seated on the bench. Damien folded, tired but relieved self onto the seat. The old woman glanced at him with pursed lips, cocking her head to the side as she perked up, her purse clutched tightly to her chest.

Smiling a little, Damien nodded as he acknowledged her; he was very much aware of his current looks; shaggy and thick, unkempt hair and beard with sunken eyes. Right after the brief nod, he looked at the road, before glancing slightly at the woman, attempting small talk.

“Nice Day, isn't it?"

His voice sounded croaky and scratchy, like someone who had been parched with thirst for a long time and hadn't spoken. The old lady narrowed her eyes at him, her brows going up a little as she blinked.

Clearing her throat, she responded softly.

"It's a bit chilly.”

"Maybe, but it's much better than being inside.”

He got no response to that, and so he leaned on the bench and continued his path down memory lane.

Damien couldn’t wait to see Chloe, to hug her tight and not let go. He had sent her a letter two weeks ago, with the simple words, ‘I'm coming home on the 14th, Chloe. I can't wait to hold you.'

He hadn't gotten a reply from her, but it didn’t worry nor bother him; the mail system in prison was a joke, letters continually got lost, or got soaked in coffee, tossed in the trash by bored guards all the time. Chloe probably never got the letter, or was probably busy setting up the house for his arrival, and didn’t have time to send a reply.

A few minutes later, the rumbling of the arriving bus distracted him from his thoughts as the bus pulled up, Damien climbed the steps, and handed the driver a few crumpled bills, money that a fellow inmate had hurriedly squeezed into his palm.

“How far are you going?” the driver asked without looking up.

“Oak Drive” was Damien’s response.

The driver punched a ticket and handed it over, Damien walked down the aisle, and found a window seat, settling in as he got lost looking out the window; the city had changed since his incarceration, new skyrise building, shops that he frequented had been replaced by trendy cafes. Damien's chin dipped slightly, a pensive smile on his face; it felt like the world had moved on while he was stuck in prison.

The bus finally slowed down to his somewhat familiar stop, and as the bus slowed, Damien's heart began racing. Stepping off, he walked down the familiar leafy street of Valeria’s neighborhood. The houses in the area screamed luxury, the streets seemed like they were paved in gold, and for a split second, Damien felt out of place as he glanced at his rumpled outfit.

Shoving off his despondency, Damian practically skipped towards his home. While he walked, he noticed that the street was unusually filled with cars, the luxurious and expensive kinds. He noticed a shiny red Ferrari that was parked right at the curb, as well as a couple of different SUV that lined down the block. Slowing his pace, Damien's smile wavered as he blinked rapidly. Was his father-in-law having a meeting? He mused to himself.

Until his ears picked up music, it was loud and thumped through walls, and as he neared the house, he could see blue and white streamers hanging from the porch railings. Damien's face broke into a huge grin, a huge lump forming in his throat, as his eyes watered, stinging a little as he fought the tears from spilling.

With his finger touching his parted lips, Damien whispered, “She got it.” wiping his tears, “She got the letter,” he mumbled once more.

His hands trembled slightly, the smile on his face was irrepressible; that was the only explanation. Chloe must have gotten his letter and had decided to throw him a welcome home party; she must have planned the party for weeks, a huge party to welcome him back. This was her announcement to the world, to let everyone know that her husband was back, and their life was starting over beautifully. She probably wanted him to know that even though he’d been away, he was still her husband and the man of the house.

With that thought in mind, he suddenly felt a rush of energy; he forgot about the three years of misery, all he wanted now was to see her. He had a spring in his steps as he ran up the driveway, nearly colliding with a valet who was trying to park a silver Porsche.

“Hey! Watch it, pal!” the valet yelled at his retreating back. Damien didn’t even bother looking back; he had one mission in mind, and that was Chloe. And as he reached the front door, he took a deep breath and expelled it; all he wanted was to see his wife. Wiping his sweaty palms on his dirty jeans, Damien pushed the door open.

“Chloe! I’m home!” he shouted over the loud music, not minding his voice nor the weird glances from those gathered around. He stepped into the hallway, fully expecting her to run into his arms, to once again have her scent wrap him, feel her soft hair against his cheek.

He didn’t mind the hallway full of strangers in expensive suits and dresses that threw sneers at him; they all seemed to stop talking as they turned to look at him. The music seemed to get even louder in the heavy silence that followed.

“Who’s the filthy fool?”

“What’s a stray doing here?”

Ignoring their looks and snide remarks, Damien looked around, his eyes searching for the one person that mattered. As his eyes hovered, he finally noticed her; in the middle of the living room, standing next to a massive cake that was decorated with tiny blue ribbons and baby blue shoes. She looked more beautiful than ever, her hair styled in soft, elegant waves that framed her beautiful face.

His face broke into a grin as he walked towards her, nearly leaping. Until his body froze mid-movement, stalling in his steps as his blinked rapidly, trying to process what was before him, Chloe wasn’t alone, Nicholas Pierce was standing right beside her, his arms wrapped possessively around his wife waist, as Damien's eyes traveled the length of her body, he noticed Nicholas’ arm was resting comfortably on Chloe's very visible, very round pregnant stomach.

Damien's head recoiled from Chloe's form, the grin on his face faded, morphing into horror, his eyes going wide as he stared. He opened his mouth to speak, but was unable to say anything. Damien stumbled, his body and limbs going limp as the duffel bag slipped from his hand, hitting the floor with a soft thud.