Demons From the Past novel Chapter 13

Albert Camus once wrote, "Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken." But I wonder if there's no breaking then there's no healing, and if there's no healing then there's no learning. And if there's no learning then there's no struggle. But the struggle is a part of life. So must all hearts be broken? – Nathan Scott, One Tree Hill

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I silently made my way into Nate's apartment, I felt so dirty doing what I was doing right now but I needed answers.

I knew Nate and Marcus were working in the gym right now, they weren't due back for at least an hour, leaving me enough time to perform my immoral deeds. I'd sneaked out the apartment key from Nate's jacket when we'd been training earlier, now I was half way through with my plan.

I let out a sigh when I took in the familiar surroundings of the apartment, for some reason I had grown incredibly attached to the place, to me it always felt like home and I had long since forgotten what home felt like.

I slowly made my way to the door at the far end of the apartment, which I knew was Nate's room. My heart hammered erratically in my chest, I breathed a sigh of relief when the door turned out to be unlocked.

My eyes widened in shock when I walked in, the room was spotlessly clean. The walls were plain off-white, with beige drapes drawn over the windows, the bed was neatly made, and not a single thing seemed to be out of place. I had actually been expecting Nate's room to be complicated and messy, like him. I had clearly been wrong.

I breathed in a lung full of air, the familiar scent calming my down. The room smelled exactly like Nate; masculine and safe. My face broke into a small involuntary smile.

I quickly shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, I needed to focus on the task at hand.

I knew I shouldn't be poking around in anyone's personal space, I understood that better than anyone else. My mind drifted off to the time I had lashed out on Nate and demanded he stay out of my personal life. I knew I was being a hypocrite right now but I needed answers. Answers I knew Nate would never give me.

I sucked in a shaky breath and proceeded to walk into his room.

I shuddered as I remembered what Nate had said to me yesterday. 'I killed my father.' Goosebumps rose on my arms.

Nate wasn't a murderer.

Sure, he was terrifying at times and incredibly domineering but definitely not a murderer.

I tried to reassure myself. I knew he wouldn't hurt anyone intentionally, that's why I was so desperate for answers right now, I wanted to understand him and this happened to be the only way I could.

I strode towards his cupboard and slid the door open with shaking fingers, my stomach knotted with guilt once more. I almost wished I wouldn't find what I was looking for. I rummaged through his clothes quickly. I was about to give up when suddenly my eye caught a small leather box sitting in the corner. My heart beat sped up as I picked it up. I placed it gently on the bed.

I carefully lifted the lid and studied the contents, it was filled with newspaper clippings and a few old photographs. I slowly lifted up a photo with shaking fingers and studied it. It was a close up shot of a young boy not more than six years old, I took in the innocent smiling face, the familiar amber eyes and dark mop of hair.

It was Nate.

I ran my thumb affectionately over the picture before placing it down and picking up another one, this one wasn't that old, I could easily recognize the handsome teenager who stood beaming between a man and a woman, undoubtedly his parents.

Nate looked so young, so different. Although the picture couldn't be any older than five years the difference was astounding. I observed how his face was relaxed and happy like he didn't have a care in the world. Now, his face seemed to be drawn permanently into a frown, his eyes when not emotionless always seemed to be pained, and there were stress lines etched along his features which made him look way older than he already was. Whatever he'd been through must have been incredibly stressful if it had caused him to undergo such drastic changes. I felt a strange pain in my chest when I thought about Nate suffering so much.

I turned my attention to the newspaper clippings, hoping that they could give me some answers. My eyes scanned over the articles.

My heart beat dropped as I read the words. Tears streamed down my face as realization hit me.

"Nate, you poor man." I whispered brokenly as a sob ripped out of my chest.

No one deserved to go through something like this, through such pain. No wonder Nate had become so closed off, he had suffered a great deal, more than anyone deserved.

I was so preoccupied with reading the newspaper clippings that I didn't hear the sound of the front door banging shut, or Nate walking into his room.

I didn't realize what had happened until I heard my name being called out. I could practically feel the blood drain from my face when my eyes met Nate's confused ones.

Oh God no.

"Verena? What the hell are you doing in my room?" He demanded.

I opened and closed my mouth dumbly, unable to form words.

Nate's eyes suddenly squared on the piece of paper in my hand before they drifted to the opened leather box sitting beside me, they widened in shock.

"Nate I-" I started weakly but stopped short when I saw the look of fury on his face.

I had never seen him look that angry, his breathing was ragged and I could see the vein protruding out of his neck, his hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckled turned white.

"You nosy little bitch." He growled, his voice so low that I almost didn't hear him.

A shiver ran down my spine at his sinister tone.

He advanced towards me, taking slow, deliberate steps. His eyes glittered dangerously. Fear seeped into my veins.