Sage (Club Nymph Book 3)

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Sage (Club Nymph Book 3) Page 3

by Abby Gale


  What is this?

  Am I losing my mind?

  Maybe choosing a horror movie was a bad idea tonight.

  Night wakes up when I step inside, and his tail is in the air as he looks at me. Even he can feel something is wrong, he’s just as tense as me while he pads toward me.

  “Nothing’s wrong, Handsome,” I breathe out, trying to convince both of us as I lift him into my arms.

  After throwing empty dinner boxes into the trash, Night and I go to my room. I place him on my bed, and with the gnawing doubt, I look outside my bedroom window. Even though I see no one, the strange sensation of being watched shakes my insides.

  I jump in my place when Night growls and jumps from my bed to go to the hallway. I grab the empty vase from the vanity, I follow Night to the hallway only to find him play with a magazine I keep on the coffee table.

  Rolling my eyes, I snort at my own silliness. For a second, I thought someone got into my apartment, and it was the thing that made Night go crazy. I shake my head, going to the bathroom for a quick shower before bed. Maybe warm water will ease the weird tension on my body.

  Chapter 8

  Present

  “I like you, Nikki.”

  “You’re so beautiful, Nikki.”

  “I love you, Nikki.”

  His voice is still ringing in my ears when I open my eyes. I sit up on my bed, tears are wetting my cheeks.

  Why? Why the hell am I having dreams about him?

  I would prefer to dream anything rather than him.

  Sleeping is the most chaotic thing in a person’s life. You can’t control it, you can’t decide what your subconscious will bring out to your dreams. I hate sleep. I hate that it always chooses the most painful memories to remind me.

  Getting out of bed, I do what I always do. I suppress the pain of beautiful memories with the pain of horrible ones.

  Caressing the smooth surface of the table I keep in my room even though I don’t do anything on it, I grab the key to unlock the drawer that’s never been opened for years and find the cheap notebook they gave me in prison. The color of the cover is faded, the pages are dog-eared, and it has a smell of history; sharp and acrid.

  I open the first page. The page that’s full of words of a broken heart.

  Dear Diary (this is how I should call you, right?)

  I’ve never had a diary, but now I need you. Because I’m alone. I’ve never felt this alone in my life, not even when I was in that closet in my mother’s house or not even when I’ve been tortured in that cabin. All those times I had something to give me hope, I had a memory of someone with a warm smile.

  Now, it’s gone. He’s gone.

  I know I shouldn’t have told him about what happened. Now, he’s disgusted with me. He’s mortified.

  He’s always been the bright light in my dark life, but now I’m too dark, and he’s too bright for me. Now, he’s the Sun, and I’m the black hole.

  I told him not to come to see me again. I had to. Do you understand me? I had to do that. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to lose him, but I can’t stand seeing the way he looks at me. It’s full of pity and disgust, and maybe even anger.

  I’ll never ever forget the look on his face as he left, Diary.

  And I’ll never forget the way my heart broke beyond repair as I watched him walk away.

  I’ve lost my innocence, I’ve lost my hope, and now I’ve lost him.

  I have nothing else to lose.

  I caress the page. My handwriting is shaky, and there are some marks where the words become blurry. I remember that day like yesterday, and I remember how I was crying when I wrote those words.

  I still remember how alone I felt in that cold cell where I found a friend with this notebook and a crayon.

  I consider the idea of reading the rest of my journal entries, but I know this one, the first entry, was the only sad memory I’ve noted. The rest of them aren’t sad memories, but they’re even more torturous to read than this one. They’re all the happy memories I have, and at the end, those are the ones that don’t let your scars heal.

  So, taking a deep breath, I put the diary back in the drawer. Even though I’ve won the battle against the temptation this time, I know I will come back to read the rest and give myself the hit of sweet pain.

  With a sigh, I pet Night and head to the kitchen. The perk of working in lots of jobs is that I’ve learned many things. One of them is baking, and I realize baking has a power of healing, just like dancing. So, I start to make every kind of recipe I’ve learned. Seems like people in the club and in the dance studio will gain a few ounces today.

  Chapter 9

  Present

  Closing my eyes, I let the music bring out the pain inside me; the pain of loss and suffering.

  I slowly sway when a thousand needles start to prickle my skin. It’s almost like getting a tattoo, but not one, thousands of them on every inch of your skin. It starts as a soft itch, but as needles keep digging their sharp claws into the same place over and over again, the itch turns to burning. I push the robe off my shoulders when my whole body feels like fire. Flames lick my skin and reach deeper inside my ribcage to surround my lungs. I swirl around myself, letting my skirt move up in the hope that it can reward me with some air as my lungs clench inside my chest with the need to breathe, but I can’t breathe. The pain, the loss, and the memories are too suffocating to let air in.

  People think I love dancing. They’re right, I do, but not for the reasons they think. People think I dance to get attention from the audience.

  No.

  I dance to grieve. Because moving to the rhythm of the music is the only time I let myself remember what has happened.

  I dance to show respect to my loss. Because the time I peel pieces of clothes off my body is the only time I reveal the old me.

  I dance for everything I’ve lost and every scar I’ve earned in the battle of life.

  And I dance to remember my naivetes, my anger, my regret. I dance to remember my pain.

  I know most people would choose to forget the pain and every memory that hurts them. I don’t.

  I don’t want to forget any of the things I’ve been through. I hug all the terrible things that have happened close to my heart and let it hurt me each second. I don’t let my scars heal, I want them to stay as reminders.

  I scratch the surface of my scars every day, every night so I can stay in control, so I would never forget the experience, what I’ve been through.

  I don’t know if what doesn’t kill you can make you stronger, but I know it makes you more cautious, bitter, and wiser.

  I open my eyes when I feel the teardrops fall to my cheeks. The tears of detoxification from my nightmares. I continue to dance in front of the crowd. They’re watching my every move like they’re hypnotized. I smile through the tears. My grief seduces them.

  Then, I see him.

  The only good thing from my past.

  The only light in my dark memories.

  My moves halt and my breath quickens as I stare at him. He’s changed so much, but I know it’s him. I can feel it in every fiber of my being.

  I shake my head like it’s just a vision. Turning myself around to cover my slip in the rhythm, I search for him again; but he’s nowhere to be seen.

  He’s disappeared just like he did when I told him everything years ago.

  ***

  I finish my performance along with wolf whistles and applause, but I can’t care less about the attention.

  Putting on my robe, I walk to my dressing room and frown when I notice the door is open.

  I turn on the light.

  “Long time no see,” I hear a voice behind me.

  Gasping, I turn around.

  “Hello, Nikki… or should I say, Sage?”

  I can’t utter a word as my eyes sink to the vision in front of me. He’s changed so much, but he’s also the same boy who has shared his chocolate with me, who has left me notes under my window.


  I look at his eyes, the same blue I remember; but now those blues have mystery and darkness in them. He’s taller, bigger, looking dangerous in black clothes from head to toe, but he’s still grinding his toe to the ground; the quirk that doesn’t seem to leave him. His jaw is stronger, his cheekbones are sharper, and his eyes are meaner, but I can still see the ghost of dimples.

  “Nick,” I finally breathe out. My heart beats faster, my hands become sweaty, and I feel a strange tension wrap around my body by calling his name out loud.

  He smirks. It’s not the warm smile he gave me when we were kids, it’s sinister. “Good. You remember me, at least.”

  I swallow and straighten my back. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to see you.”

  Questions are running wild in my mind. It’s been twenty fucking years. Why does a man shows up after that much time? How could he even find me or why did he trouble himself to find me? What do we have in common now that he ends up in my dressing room?

  Finally, I summarize all my questions with one general one, “Why?”

  “I have something to give you,” he says, pulling out an envelope from his leather jacket’s pocket.

  I hesitate before taking it from him and before I find something to say he heads toward the door. Just before he leaves the room, I hear his voice:

  “Once upon a time, I was too bright for you. Now, I’m just as dark.”

  Chapter 10

  Past

  Age 10

  It’s 4th of July. There is a firework show outside. I can hear them. Their colors are reflecting in my room even though my curtains are tightly closed.

  Walking on my tiptoes, I check if my mom is still sleeping. She is. I saw her taking her sleeping pill before going to bed tonight. I know she won’t awake anytime soon. And I want to watch the fireworks so much.

  Going back to my room I open the window and climb out of the house into the garden. As soon as my feet touch the overgrown grass, a firework brightens the sky. I look up, how the darkness turns into the colors. I smile, it looks magical.

  I lay on the ground and watch the show with a smile on my face.

  “Ouch,” I cry out when something hits me on the face. I quickly cover my mouth, looking back at the house and hoping my mom didn’t hear me.

  “Nikki. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there,” Nick says, running toward me.

  Grabbing the ball next to me, I throw it back at him. “Don’t worry.”

  He smiles at me. “What are you doing here alone? Wanna come and watch the show with my family?”

  “No. You know my mom. She doesn’t know I’m out.”

  “Can I sit with you, then? We can watch the show together, so you don’t get scared in the darkness alone.” He’s grinding his foot again. It makes him cute.

  I nod at him. I don’t say the darkness doesn’t scare me. I don’t say I stay in the darkness most of the time since my mom always locks me inside the closet to pray.

  “Your family would worry about you,” I protest, even though I’d like to watch fireworks with him.

  “I’m a big boy, Nikki. They don’t worry about me,” he says, sitting next to me.

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m twelve. You?”

  “I’m ten,” I answer.

  “See? You’re too young to be outside alone.” He grins. I don’t protest. I like spending time with him. He’s nice and funny.

  “Wait here. I’m coming back,” he says and runs back to his house.

  When he comes back, he lays down on the grass.

  “I brought chocolate.” He gives me a piece of it.

  We can’t spend much time together, but whenever I can sneak out of the house, he brings me chocolate.

  “You’ll make me fat,” I say, taking a big bite of my favorite sweet.

  “You’re thin. You won’t be fat.”

  I shrug and enjoy my chocolate.

  “My parents will send me to a summer camp tomorrow,” he says.

  “Oh.” I turn to face him, suddenly not so interested in the fireworks. “How long you’ll be there?”

  “Two weeks. I wish you could come, too. It’d be so much fun.”

  “You sound excited.”

  “I am,” he says.

  “I’m sure you’ll have fun,” I say, but can’t help adding, “Will I see you when you come back?”

  “Of course, I’ll tell you everything that happened there, so you’ll feel like you were there with me.”

  I like this idea. “Okay.”

  Turning my head back up to the sky I watch as colors explode in the darkness.

  ***

  There is no firework when I open my eyes. The sky is still dark, but it’s getting lighter. I’ve fallen asleep. I turn around on the hard ground only to face with Nick. My eyes widen in surprise. He’s still sleeping, and there is a small smile playing on his lips even as he sleeps.

  Looking at my house, I softly shake him.

  “Nick. Nick, wake up,” I whisper.

  He stirs in his sleep and slowly opens his eyes. “Hi, Nikki,” he murmurs.

  “We fell asleep. You need to go, and I need to get inside,” I whisper-shout at him.

  After stretching, he gets up to his feet and pulls me up with him. I quickly walk under my window. He follows me. “Let me help you up,” he says.

  Linking his fingers together, he tells me to step on his hands. I worry I’ll hurt him, but I don’t say anything not to be caught by my mom. Balancing myself on his shoulders, I step on his hands.

  “You’re the first girl I slept with, Nikki,” he says with a voice that feels like he’s joking.

  I look into his eyes. We are so close, and it feels strange. Not knowing what to do, I smile. “You’re the first boy I slept with, Nick,” I say, sitting on the window sill. I wave at him when I get inside. Closing the window, I get inside my bed with a smile on my face.

  Nick is so cute…

  Chapter 11

  Present

  I study the envelope in my hand, turning and holding it toward the light like I can see what’s inside. I don’t have the courage to open it.

  Once upon a time, I was too bright for you. Now I’m just as dark.

  His words echo in my mind and send a shiver through my spine. What could he have done to become just as dark? And what does that mean for me? The words sound like a threat, but I don’t know what he’s threatening me with.

  I look at the envelope again, as if I’m expecting it to explode like a grenade.

  Leaning back on my bed, I try to study his posture in my mind. I can still see him clear as day when I close my eyes. He looked mysterious and dangerous.

  And hot, I hear the whisper in the back of my mind. The observation is as ridiculous as it’s true.

  It’s been twenty years since I last saw him. Twenty years without a word from him, yet now he shows up like he’s never gone, like he’s always been here.

  He awakes so many emotions in me just by showing up.

  I’m curious about all the whys, all the unknowns of his appearance in my life.

  I’m excited and happy because he’s the only person I remember with happiness even though it blends with heartache.

  I’m hurt by the memory of the last time I saw him, and I’m angry that he broke his promises, the one he said he’d never leave me.

  With a sad smile on my face, I get out of the bed to open the drawer that keeps my diary. I just know the memory of his promise is written in it to taunt me.

  Dear Diary,

  I have nothing and no one but you and the memories that haunt me. I’m already at my lowest as I sit on the cold floor of this prison cell with you in my hands, so I decided to write only the good memories. No matter how hard it’ll be to remember him and how happy he made me feel. I need these memories to give me strength. It’s either this or losing my mind, and I’ve already lost everything, I can’t lose my sanity, too.

  Here, let’s start with on
e of the happiest memories I have. Are you ready, Diary? You’ll love this. And you’ll love him, just like I do.

  A clicking noise gets my attention, I get out of the bed. Opening the window, I look outside. There’s a note on the window sill.

  *I missed you. I’m waiting. N xx*

  A huge smile hurts my cheek. After looking back at the hallway, I open the window wider and throw my leg to go out. Warm hands grip my waist, and I feel a tickling sensation in my spine when my body slides on his.

  Turning in his arms, I hug him. He kisses me on my cheek, and as always, I feel my face burn up.

  “My dad took us to an ice-cream shop today,” he says.

  “Sounds nice,” I murmur, a part of me breaks that I have never gone to eat ice-cream. I’ve never eaten an ice-cream.

  “No, it wasn’t. I missed you all day. There’s no way I’d eat it without you. I wish you can sneak out long enough so we can go there together.”

  I smile at him. Even with his family, even in a place all kids love, he thinks of me.

  “Like a date,” he adds when I say nothing.

  “What?”

  “A date. When a boy likes a girl, he takes her out. Most people go to eat ice-cream. This makes them a couple.”

  I bite my lip, so I don’t smile so big. I look silly when I grin that big, but I want to jump up and down with excitement. He likes me because he wants to go on a date with me.

  “What do couples do?” I ask, still enjoying the feel of his arms around me. He spreads warmth in my chest, it makes me want to smile all the time.

  “They spend time together. They sit together. They hold hands, hugs, and kiss,” he says. The dimples on his cheek appear again, and I want to kiss them.

  My smile drops when I realize an obstacle. “We can’t go to the ice-cream shop.”

 

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