Anchors in the Shadows

The Table

Dinner at the Rockens’ house was always polished, always quiet. The long oak table gleamed under the chandelier, silverware lined up perfectly beside porcelain plates. Damien sat near the end, his chair feeling more like a borrowed seat than a place he belonged. Grant Rocken barely looked at him. The man’s attention stayed fixed on his phone or his plate, never on Damien. He spoke to Amelia, to Celeste, about business, about schedules, but never to him. Damien told himself it was because Grant saw him as freeloading off their success a charity case they couldn’t shake. Celeste Rocken was gentler, always acknowledging him with a smile or a polite question, but she never touched him. No hand on the shoulder, no motherly embrace. Damien thought it was because she couldn’t bear to touch a boy whose family had been swallowed by tragedy. The only one who treated him like family was Amelia. She sat beside him, her smile warm, her voice teasing. “So,” she said, stabbing a piece of roasted chicken with her fork, “how’s life sitting next to Ms. Winters? You seemed pretty focused in chemistry today.” Damien smirked, leaning back slightly. “I’m always focused. Sounds like you weren’t if you were watching me.” Amelia narrowed her eyes, grinning. “Don’t try to flip it on me.” Celeste chuckled softly, but Grant didn’t react. Damien kept his eyes on his plate, cheeks warming despite his joke. Amelia’s tone shifted, playful but pointed. “Anyway, homecoming’s coming up. You should go with me. That way you’re not a loner hiding in the corner.” Damien hesitated, then shrugged lightly. “I’m not a loner, but yeah sure.” Her smile widened, satisfied. “Good. It’ll be fun.” Dinner carried on with quiet conversation, Amelia occasionally nudging him, Grant ignoring him, Celeste offering polite smiles. Damien felt the weight of it all pressing down the silence, the distance, the way Amelia seemed to be the only tether holding him here. When the plates were cleared and the house settled into its evening rhythm, Damien excused himself. “I’m tired. Gonna head to bed.” Upstairs, he waited until the house was quiet until Grant’s footsteps faded, until Celeste’s voice was gone, until Amelia’s door clicked shut. Then he moved. He packed a small bag flashlight, hoodie, and a bottle of water. He cleaned himself up quickly, heart pounding with anticipation. Tonight wasn’t about homecoming or family dinners. Tonight was about answers. About Nyx. Damien eased open his window, the cool night air rushing in. He climbed out carefully, landing softly on the grass below. The Rockens’ house loomed behind him, perfect and polished, but he didn’t look back. He tightened the strap of his bag, flicked the flashlight off, and started toward the clock tower.