Chapter 4: The Stern Lecture

Damon's vision became hazy and unfocused as his eyes slowly open

The dull pain in his head that throbbed like a bass drum making a beat was the first thing he noticed.

He winced, and it felt like a thousand pins were poking at his skin on his face. He sighed as a familiar hand rubbed his back.

He knew he had to explain why his face looked so battered.

"Ah, you're awake, are you?" A sharp voice with a clear Irish brogue asked.

Leaning back against the alley wall, Damon sat up and looked down. He couldn't bear to look at her.

"Boy, I asked if you're okay or not," she finally said, her voice forceful but full of worry.

With a voice hardly audible above a whisper, Damon nodded. "I'm fine, mom."

She quickly responded, her accent deepening with irritation. "Good, then you'll tell me what got you looking like that, ain't you? Since you're fine, that means you can talk well."

Damon didn't say anything and kept his eyes on the dirty floor of the alley.

He said mumbling, "Ah, its nothing, mom," but she stopped him.

She stood up, and her eyes were burning with anger. "It's feckin nothing, Damon! You leave, don't come home for the night, and then ye come back lookin' like you've been through a war! Are you pullin' me leg, Damon?"

Her voice got higher, and every word had a bit of doubt and worry in it.

Damon felt bad because he knew he had to tell the truth.

Damon paused, his mind working on a reason. The silence from him didn't end.

Finally taking a big breath, Damon spoke, but his voice was so low it was almost a whisper. "Mom, I...I fought."

Her eyes got narrow and her face turned serious. "A fight? What kind of fight, Damon?"

Damon hesitated, knowing he had to reveal the truth. "A backyard fight, mom. I was desperate, and We need the money."

Her face fell, her eyes wide with shock. "Damon, what have you gotten yourself into?"

He knew he had to explain so she could get it. But where did he even start?

Aoife fixed her eyes on Damon's, and her look was sharp and eager. . "Promise me, Damon. Promise me you won't go there again." Her voice trembled, her hands shaking as she grasped his neck.

Damon's eyes slid away from hers, his gaze faltered. He couldn't guarantee her that.

He would not lie to her. They also desperately needed the money.

The pain in Aoife's face made her eyes well up with tears. "Damon, my baby boy. "I don't want to lose you."

Damon felt his chest tighten with feeling as his heart twisted.

He felt as if he had a lump in his mouth as he looked at his mother. Her face brimmed with fear and worry.

His voice cracked, "I'm sorry, mom," he said in a whisper. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Aoife's grip on his neck tightened, her fingers digging into his skin. "You're all I have, Damon. You're all that matters to me. Please, promise me you won't go back to that place."

Tears pricked Damon's eyes and clouded his vision.

His throat constricted with emotion as he experienced a stinging sensation in his nostrils..

He wanted to promise her, he wanted to reassure her, but just he couldn't. He couldn't lie to her.

"I...I can't, mom," he stammered, his voice barely audible.

When Aoife sobbed, her face got scrunched up and her body shook. He felt bad about what he did, he knew he'd let her down and disappointed her.

But he couldn't promise her something he knew he couldn't keep.

He couldn't promise her he wouldn't go back to the fights, not when they needed the money so desperately.

As Aoife's sobs rang through the alley, his resolve grew stronger.

He would and will do anything to keep his mother safe and take care of her. Even if it put himself in danger.

Damon's eyes blinked and his attention fell to the ground. For the sake of his mother, he had to be strong.

He took a deep breath as his mind worked quickly to find a way out.

"Mom, I..." he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aoife's sobs slowly subsided, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "What, Damon? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Damon swallowed hard, and his throat got tight. "Whatever it takes, mom, I'll take care of you. I promise."

Aoife's eyes scanned his face as her expression softened. "Damon, you are my only child. I can't lose you, my one and only family."

Damon felt a lump form in his throat, his vision blurring. "I know, mom. I'll be careful, I promise."

Aoife's grip on his neck relaxed, her fingers sliding down to his shoulder. "See that you are, Damon. See that you are."

As they sat there in silence, Damon knew he had to find a way to make things right. He had to find a way to take care of his mom without putting himself in danger.

Still, he chose to enjoy the warmth of her touch and the love in her eyes for now.

Aoife looked at Damon with amused sparkles in her eyes, her expression half playful, half affectionate.

With a thick and sweet Irish brogue, she remarked, "And you're starting to sound more and more like a feckin American day by day."

Damon nodded in agreement and laughed, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

His accent was as heavy as his mother's when they had first moved here, but now it only appeared when he was emotional, especially angry.

As he stood up, Aoife rose with him, her brown hair still beautiful despite being dry.

Damon turned to her, his eyes locking onto hers, and said, "I'm just going to get the money I won, mom. It's fine. I'll be back real soon, okay?"

Aoife sat back down on the ground and nodded. Her face showed that she trusted the man. She believed her son would never lie to her, so she always believed what he said.