Chapter 4 Child of the Stars

While Lydia was learning of her new identity, far away in distant Los Angeles, a young man was pining for something he couldn't quite realize. Damien Turner sat atop his parents multi-million dollar house, watching as the sun sank into the icy-blue waters of the Pacific. Downstairs he knew his mother and "father" were arguing over whose party to go to. Damien was a typical child of the sun and stars. His mother, Gabrielle Turner, was a famous soap opera actress and she had married an Italian named Marco Turner when she had been 25. Damien had been created through a gap in their marriage.

During a brief seperation after they had wed, Gabrielle had sex with a nameless drunk from a bar and thus Damien was born a little less then a year after they had gotten back together. Marco knew Damien wasn't his true son and never left the boy a moment's peace without reminding him.

The arguement seemed to die down but Damien didn't move inside yet. His curly dark hair whipped around his face as a chill seabreeze blew in. He was lost in his dreamworld again, where nothing seemed to bother him. Not his mother, not his teachers, not his friends, nor even Marco could bother him here. Here was paradise, his sanctuary from the drugs, booze, and sex that plagued the fair city of Los Angeles.

The sound of a revving H-2 brought, Damien out of his fantasy. They were leaving now, thank god. Climbing down past the roof, Damien eyed the distance between the roof and his balcony window. It had been easy climbing up but getting down was another story. Throwing his legs over the edge of the roof, Damien began to lower himself slowly. Clinging to the drainpipe, Damien dangled and looked down. He was still a good four feet away from the flooring. Deciding to drop, Damien looked at the sky before falling to land gently on the ground. Groaning slightly, Damien stood and walked into the warm mansion. He was gloriously alone now.

The tall youth didn't turn on the billion gamestations or the thousand channel sattelite link-up he had. The computer remained untouched as did his cell phone and PDA. Damien looked around. So many worldly possesions...but none of them he wanted. Marco had always insisted that his boy had the best of everything; everything top of the line and practically brand new. Even his own Jetta down in the garage had only been driven once and that was by Marco. Damien stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and watched the ground, walking by. Down the steps was only more 'needed' things, according to Marco and Gabrielle's list. A huge TV and wrap around Corinthian Leather couch. Ancient rugs hung on the walls like ornaments and magazines littered the ground.

Damien instead walked out the back and through the big black gate to the private beach. The waves were crashing softly against the sand, people were gone, it was getting dark. Damien lied on his back and looked up at the never-ending sky. Ever since he had been born, Damien had been taught that if you and your home didn't look top-notch and up to date, you weren't worth the clothes on your back. Once when Marco had stated that to him, Damien had shot back, "But what if what's on your back is a three-thousand dollar Armani suit?" Damien gave a small smile to the twinkling stars as he remembered how Marco had flew into a rage and shouted that no son of his would've been so rude.

As Damien sat looking up at the sky he felt a sudden connection he never had before. Though they were the same stars, Damien felt as though something was coming. It filled his chest with a thrill he had never experienced before. But almost as suddenly as the feeling had come it was gone. He let out a soft whimper as if the feeling that had now left had wounded him. Standing up, Damien moved back into the chilly house. His stomach churned from hunger so he began to fix himself some food. Almost as soon as his microwave dinner was finished however, Damien found he wasn't hungry anymore.

Leaving the steaming 'Kid Cuisine' on the countertop, Damien sat on a barstool, rested his head on his arms and fell asleep.