Oh God, I’m going to be sick. I back out of the door and take off running;. I can’t stay up here. I head for the east set of stairs and run down a few floors. I need a bathroom before I puke on the floor. I enter a door on the eighth floor. I don’t know what company is on this floor, but I find a bathroom as quickly as I can.
When I enter, I go into the first stall and throw up. Barely anything comes up. I know it’s disgusting, but I cross my arms over the toilet seat and start crying. I feel my phone vibrating in my back pocket. I don’t bother with taking it out. I can’t talk to anyone. What if it’s her? Oh God, what if it’s him?
I know I don’t have a right to be upset, but I am. I know I’m not his girlfriend any longer, but this fucking hurts worse than anything I could have ever imagined. I just want the pain to stop. I feel like it’s going to consume me.
I sit back on my knees and flush the toilet. The sobs have quieted down and I stand up.
My phone vibrates again.
I exit the stall, go to the sink and wash my hands. I feel dirty and nasty. I splash cool water on my face and towel it off. I exit the bathroom and locate the elevator.
I exit on the ground level and find my way to my car. I feel the vibration of my phone again, but I leave it tucked in my back pocket. I can’t speak to anyone right now. I crank my car and pull out of the parking spot. I see Nick’s car as I exit onto the road with tears pooling into my eyes.
I turn onto the road in the opposite direction to my house. Without thinking, I head to Katelyn and Stacy’s apartment as Poison’s “Every Rose has its Thorn” starts to play through my speakers. I don’t call. I don’t want to take the chance to talk myself out of it. I don’t know if there is enough alcohol that is going to take what I’m feeling away. I stop at a red light and bang my forehead on my steering wheel. God…I can’t even have any alcohol.
I’m not blaming my baby, but damn. Can a girl not get a break? The light turns green and I continue on my way. I wipe the tears from each side of my cheeks with the back of my hand.
When I reach their apartment, I park out front. Katelyn’s car is here so I’m grateful she is home. I’m not sure what I’m going to tell her. I’ve been avoiding my friends' calls for a few days now. Either they know, or they have an idea of what is going on because they haven’t stopped calling me in the last few days.
I run up the stairs two at a time. I can’t get to her door fast enough. I knock harder than I intend and wait. She doesn’t take long to answer.
“Shannon, oh my God. Honey, what’s wrong?” She takes one look at my blotchy red face and pulls me into a warm embrace. I rest my head on her shoulder. It’s the comfort I’ve needed for a week. I regret not coming before now. I’ve been keeping my friends out, and it’s not fair to them or me. I still have people who care about me, even if it’s not the one person I really want right now.
“I should probably go, Katie,” Shane says as he’s getting off the couch. Katie? Since when does she go by Katie? In the moment, I regretted not coming, now I regret being here. I pick my head off her shoulder and she releases me. I had stopped crying before I got out of my car.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I tell him. Katelyn intercedes before he can respond.
“Shannon, you didn’t, but even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. You are my friend. Go sit on the couch and I’ll bring you a glass of wine,” she tells me. God…how do I explain I can’t drink?
“Baby, I’ll call you later,” I hear her tell Shane as he’s walking out of the door. Once the door is closed, she turns to head into the kitchen.
“No wine,” I yell from the living room.
“Honey, I think you need it,” she yells back. Hell…here I go.
“I’m pregnant,” I confess. There is silence for a split second, and then there’s the sound of glass hitting the floor and breaking. Well…she wasn’t expecting that.
“WHAT?” She comes running back into the living room. Her eyes are wide and she’s in shock. Maybe I should have broken the news to her differently. “Oh! My! Fucking! God!” She says each word like they are each a sentence of their own.
“Yeah,” I reply as she takes a seat next to me. She takes my left hand, entwining it in hers, and squeezes.
“Does he know yet?” she asks.
“No.” Then I proceed to tell her the events I witnessed in his office. By the time I’m finished, I’m crying again. I just want all of this to stop. My heart aches so much. How do I make it stop hurting?
“That’s…odd,” she tells me. “Shane told me that Nicholas has been a mess, and he’s never seen him act the way he has for the past few days.” I have no idea what that means, but I don’t ask her. She releases me and stands up. “I’m going to get you a glass of water. Stay put.”
“And some aspirin, please,” I say as I rub my fingers across my forehead, above my eyebrows where the same migraine still lingers. The intensity is increasing. I want to lay down and forget about today. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the sight of Nick having sex with someone else out of my brain. Katelyn returns a few minutes later placing two pills into the palm of my hand.
“It’s Tylenol. I remember when my sister was pregnant that’s all she could take,” she tells me with a shrug. I pop the pills into my mouth and reach for the tall glass of water she brought me. I swallow a gulp and then hand her the glass back.
“So what happened? Shane swears he doesn’t know, and you haven’t been taking anyone’s calls.” She takes a seat on the other end of the couch. She sits facing me with a leg tucked under her butt.
Fuck.
What do I tell her? Obviously not the truth, but I opt for a semi-truth.
“I used to work for Nick’s father,” I murmur. She crunches her eyes together. “Back in high school,” I clarify. I reach for my glass of water and take a long sip using the time to sort out exactly what I want to tell her.
“Okay, so what does that have to do with you and Nicholas?” she asks when I take longer than I should.
“Last week, Nick’s dad told him something that wasn’t true and he believed him,” I say, blowing out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in.
“What did he say?” she deadpans.
“Can we talk about it later? I have a migraine. I want to lie down.” I feel bad for brushing off her question, but it’s not like I’m going to tell her, and this is the easiest way to end the conversation. She eyes me like she knows exactly what I’m doing.
“Fine. We can talk later when your headache is gone. Why don’t you go get in my bed? It’s dark in my room.”
With that, I stand up and head off down the short hall to her room. Closing the door, I kick off my shoes and crawl into her bed. The mattress is soft and the covers are fluffy. Like she said, the room is dark, pitch black to be exact.
I shut my eyes only to open them a minute later. The throbbing in my head is pounding like the beat of a drum. I turn over onto my stomach and bury my head under her pillow. It doesn’t help. I can’t think beyond the need to drive a knife through my skull. If only that would relieve the pain, I would certainly do it.
I flip over onto my back and stare at the ceiling; I can’t see in this dark room. After an hour or so of repeating this, I manage to dose off.
When I awake, I don’t know how long I was out, but the throbbing inside my head is gone. Thank you, Jesus. Grabbing the blanket, I rip it off and sit up. Walking carefully in the direction of the door, I open it. The light flowing down the hall from the living room is enough so that I’m able to see my shoes lying on the floor. I bend down and scoop them into my arms and walk out, shutting the door quietly behind me.
As I make my way down the hall, I hear soft voices. It’s Katelyn and Stacy. They are talking in the kitchen. I make my way in that direction. I pull out a chair in front of the bar that looks into the kitchen and hop onto the seat. Both heads fly up like they’ve been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. I’m assuming I was the t
opic of their conversation.
“You’re awake,” Katelyn says.
“Obviously,” I deadpan. “What’s that smell?” I ask before she comes back with a smart ass comment to my sarcasm.
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” she tells me. “I thought you might need comfort food.”
“You know me too well,” I smile. Spaghetti is one of my favorite dishes and one of the only meals I can cook. Hers smells better than mine. She comes from a large Italian family, so I can’t be mad.
“Are you okay?” Stacy finally speaks. Am I okay? Not sure that is the right question to ask, but I know she is only trying to be nice.
“Peachy,” I say with a force smiled. They both roll their eyes at me.
“You don’t have to sound like a bitch,” Stacy spits back. I gape are her.
“Food's ready. I was about to wake you. Let’s eat.” Katelyn says as she opens a cabinet and removes three large, round white plates.
I hop off the chair and make my way into the kitchen to fix my dish. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days. Honestly, I’m hungry, and now, I really need to eat considering there is now a child inside me. That’s about as much as I let myself think about the little minion growing in my belly. I’ll have plenty of time for that later, when I’m by myself.
After I pile a generous helping onto my plate, I grab a piece of fresh garlic bread, adding it to my plate before making my way to their dining table.
We all eat in silence, each one of us staring at the other every so often. This isn't the comfortable silence I usually have in the company of my friends. This is the silence where everyone wants to say something, but no one does for fear of saying the wrong thing.
“How long was I out?” I ask, trying to break the silence among us.
“Five or six hours,” Katelyn says through a mouth full of bread. This woman can devour bread. She loves it. I don’t know how she stays slender.
We fall back into silence throughout the rest of dinner. Once I’m done and all the plates are piled into the sink, I tell my friends I’m heading home. It’s late and I ache all over. A shower and a bed is what I need. Not to mention the dogs are probably starving. I don’t recall feeding them this morning.
“You don’t have to leave. You are welcome to spend the night here,” Katelyn says as she pours a glass of wine for herself. It looks good. I can just imagine the crisp, wet and cool liquid sliding down her throat as she takes a sip. Damn her.
“No, but thanks. I want to go home,” I tell them as I give both a hug and then exit their apartment. And I do want to be at home. I’m just not so sure it’s the escape I’m looking for.
TWENTY
It’s day number nine without Nick. He hasn’t even come back for his dogs. Why, I’m not sure. In a way, I’m somewhat thankful. I don’t know how I would have survived our breakup without their comfort.
This is all…so unfair.
Had I known this was the kind of pain that comes from love, I would have avoided it and run the other way. Yeah, I’m lying to myself, but this is what I need right now. The moment Nicholas Lockhart entered my life, I was his; my heart was his. I just didn’t know it that short time ago.
Yesterday, I walked into LP to tell Nick I was pregnant with his baby, but instead, I found him having sex with Teresa Matthews. That was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. My heart was ripped from my chest. I’ve never known that much pain before. Not even everything his father took from me hurt as much as seeing that.
I know he didn’t cheat on me like Luke did. When he walked out of my house, because I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth, I knew we were over. He told me we were done. But everything inside of me belongs to him - from my lips, neck, and breasts, to my body and the heart inside it. It’s all his, no matter if he wants me or not. I belong to him, and Goddammit, he belongs to me.
I did this to myself. I know that much. I’m hurting because I couldn’t bring myself to say the words I spent so many years refusing to remember. There are just some things a person can’t tell someone else, no matter how much they want to. I couldn’t get it out of my mouth. I couldn’t tell him his dad raped me.
Everything I never faced, never dealt with ten years ago, has crushed my future with the only man I’ve ever loved.
Isn’t it ironic? I didn’t know how much I cared, how much I loved him until I didn’t have him any longer. If I could go back and do it all over, knowing what I know now, I can’t be certain I would have made a different decision. I don’t know if I would have told him. I wanted to, really I did. I just couldn’t. How do you say to someone you should have been able to trust, hurt you, stole your innocence? It’s been so many years and I still don’t know how to do it. How to talk. How to speak the truth.
I’m brought out of my sad misery when I hear screeching tires outside of my house. For a brief moment, I’m praying it’s Nick. I need him so badly. I need someone to take all the pain and hurt away. I know he is the only one that can.
I get off the couch to walk to the door when I hear someone trying to unlock the door. Nick is the only other person with a key so my heart is racing because I know it has to be him.
I’m about five feet from the door when it flies open. I suck in a deep breath. It’s not Nick. It’s the monster in every one of my nightmares. Nick’s father is standing in the doorway.
His grey eyes are blazing with a dark fire. He’s angry. He’s holding a key in front of his chest so I can see it. “The spare key under a cushion? How stupid can you be?” he says as he tosses it to the floor. I take a step back.
“Get out of my house,” I tell him. It’s weak and barely audible. He steps closer to me and reaches out with his right hand grabbing my throat in his hand. He squeezes tight. It hurts.
“Telling my daughter wasn’t the smartest thing for you. I told you if you told anyone, you would regret it.” He tightens his grip and pushes my back into a wall. My head hits the wall with the force of his hand. It hurts, but not enough to make me see stars.
“Stop.” I force out. “Please, I didn’t tell her.” I’m begging him.
“You’re a lying little bitch. She paid me a visit this morning and took a swing at me. Her own fucking father, because of you!” He’s shouting at me and I’m trying to push him away. It only makes him more forceful.
“Please.” I continue to beg and push him. If he hurts me then he hurts my baby too. I can’t let him hurt my baby, Nick’s baby.
“That’s right, Shannon. Keep begging because it only makes me harder. I never forgot the first time I fucked you. You were the best piece I’ve ever had. I plan on having you again before this is over.”
No. Not again.
He releases my jaw only to gather both of my hands, pulling them above my head. He holds both in a vice grip with one hand. I continue to struggle in his hold. With his free hand, he skims down my tank top and I regret taking off my bra when I came home last night. His lips land hard on mine. A moment later, his hand is in the waistband of my shorts. I’m starting to freak out. I can’t think straight. If only I could calm down, I might be able to think what to do. What was the point of all those boxing classes if I can’t put them to use?
He uses his knee to pry my legs apart. His hands slide further down and into my panties. I shut my eyes tight as I can possibly get them as he shoves a finger inside of me. It hurts. I’m dry down there as he tries to put another in.
“Motherfucker!” he shouts. My hands are released, and the groping down in my underwear stops. Niko’s growl registers in my head, causing me to look down. He’s bit James’ left hand and Niko continues growling and showing his teeth. He looks vicious. Something I’ve never seen from Nick’s dog.
“This isn’t over, my little whore,” he says to me as he’s backing out the front door.
He isn’t looking at me. He keeps his eyes on Niko. When he’s out of the entryway and gone, I run to it, closing and locking it as fast as my fingers will do it. I lean against the door, t
rying to calm myself. It isn’t working. I take off, racing to my bathroom. I turn the shower to hot. I have to get his touch off me. I can’t have any part of him on me.
I strip out of all my clothes and get in the shower. I grab Nick’s body wash and pour all that’s left onto my bath loofah. I scrub every inch of my body. All I can feel is him all over me and inside me as I get every part of me clean.
I rinse all the soap off and turn off the water. I step out and towel dry. I don’t bother with drying my hair. Opening the door to the bathroom, I walk to my closet and put on a pair of panties. Nick’s clothes are still here and I need something to comfort me. I grab one of his white dress shirts off a hanger and put it on.
I’m standing in my closet as the tears form in my eyes. I can’t hold them back and I don’t want to. They slide down my cheeks as I slide down to the floor. I scoot back into the back of the closet and continue to sob. I wrap my arms around my knees to hug myself. How I wish Nick was here to hold me.
I rock myself and continue to cry until there are no more tears. I cry for hours. I cry for all the times I never let myself cry so long ago. Finally, I lay myself on the floor in my closet. I’m spent and tired, and I let my eyes close, not wanting to move. Just wanting to forget.
* * * * *
I wake up to my name being called, or yelled rather. I’m exhausted and still lying on the floor in my closet. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I’m cold and my body aches.
“Shannon, where the fuck are you?” I start to breathe rapidly, thinking he’s back to finish what he started earlier. Then it registered that it’s Nick’s voice. His tone is etched with panic. He’s here and he’s in my room. I look up to see him walking into the closet. I see blue intense eyes looking down at me. It’s almost enough to start the waterfall of tears again. God…I’ve missed those eyes.
“What the fuck happened out there? Why are you lying on the floor?” he asks as he squats down, resting his elbows on his knees. The panic I think I heard in his voice moments ago has faded. He pulls me off the floor with gentle hands, and I leap into his arm almost causing him to fall backwards. He catches himself and me by grabbing onto the doorframe.
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