HIS BROKEN SAINT

CHAPTER 7: FIRST NIGHT

The silence in the guest room was worse than the alley.

Elias sat on the edge of the mattress Damien’s staff had called “standard issue.” Standard for a penthouse that cost more than his dad’s truck, his dad’s house, and his dad’s entire life combined.

1,095 meals. Count 1-10 on his back. Kneel. All of it felt abstract during the day. At 2:17 AM, it felt like a cage.

He’d been lying there for hours. The sheets smelled like detergent and money. No nightmares yet. Just the memory of his dad’s voice, cut off mid-sentence by brakes and metal.

Then it started.

The dream always began the same. Dad turning to him, smiling. “You’re gonna be okay, Eli.” Then the truck swerving. Then nothing. Then Elias jolting awake with his lungs forgetting how to work.

Tonight was worse. Because this time, when he woke up gasping, he wasn’t in the flat in Embakasi. He wasn’t anywhere safe.

He scrambled for the light switch. Nothing. The room was black except Nairobi bleeding through the curtains. His chest tightened. The walls were too far. The air was too expensive.

He fumbled for the door trying to open it then remembered it locks from outside he tried

calling Damien but he couldn't hear himself speak he didn't want to wake the staff's in the mansion because the rules clearly states that

no touches him except Damien after what felt like forever.

“Elias.”

Damien stood in the doorway. No suit. Black shirt, sleeves pushed up. Bare feet on marble. Like he owned the dark.

“You were screaming,” Damien said. Not a question.

Elias pressed his back against the headboard. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.” Damien stepped inside and closed the door. Soft click. Final. “Rule 3. No lying to me.”

Right. Rule 3. Elias had already broken 3 rules and it was only Night One.

Damien didn’t turn the lights on. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Not close. Not far. Just there. Like he had every right to be.

“Talk,” Damien said.

Elias laughed, but it came out broken. “You want me to talk? About what? About how my dad died while I watched? About how I’m counting meals now instead of birthdays? Pick one.”

Damien’s jaw ticked. “Start with the nightmare.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Elias.”

The way he said his name. Not like an owner. Like a threat and a promise.

Elias stared at his hands. “He tells me I’ll be okay. Then the truck flips. Then I wake up. Every night since the funeral. You happy now?”

Damien was quiet for a long time. Then he did something Elias didn’t expect.

He shifted closer. Not touching. But close enough that Elias could smell his cologne. Expensive. Clean. Safe.

“You’re not leaving me yet,” Damien said.

Elias looked up. “What?”

“You heard me.” Damien’s eyes were dark in the dark. “You flinch. You fight. You lie. But you’re not leaving me yet.”

“I’m not yours.”

“You signed the contract.” Damien reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind Elias’s ear. His fingers didn’t shake. Elias’s did. “Duration: one year. That means 365 nights. I’m not letting you drown on Night One.”

Elias swallowed. “I’m not a child.”

“No,” Damien agreed. “You’re mine. There’s a difference.”

He stood then. Elias’s stomach dropped like Damien was taking the oxygen with him.

But Damien only walked to the other side of the room. He dragged a chair over. Placed it by the bed. Sat.

“I’m not touching you,” Damien said. “I’m not leaving either. Sleep.”

Elias stared. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” Damien leaned back, arms crossed. “Count 1-10 if you need to. I’ll count with you. But you’re not doing Night One alone.”

And he did. When Elias started shaking again 20 minutes later, Damien’s voice cut through the dark.

“One. Breathe in.”

Elias obeyed. Hated that he obeyed.

“Two. You’re not there anymore.”

“I can still hear it.”

“Three. It’s a memory. Not a prediction.”

By “Seven,” Elias’s breathing evened out. By “Ten,” his eyes were heavy.

The last thing he heard before sleep took him was Damien’s voice, low and final:

“I keep debts, Elias. Even the ones that aren’t mine to keep. Sleep.”

He did.

No more nightmares