Silent No More(72)

I lift my head, pulling out of her embrace, wiping the remaining tears with the back of my hand. “Does anyone else know?” I ask.

She momentarily looks away before bringing her eyes back to mine. “No, I didn’t tell Nick, if that’s what you want to know.”

“Oh,” I respond taking a deep breath.

“Shannon, I know James should pay for what he did to you. Really, I do. No one knows better than me what it’s like to suffer at the hands of that man.” She takes a large gulp of air before finishing, letting it out on a sigh. “But I’m here for selfish reasons. I’m here as a mother. Please, don’t tell Nicholas.”

“What?” I ask, not believing what I’m hearing. I want to tell Nick. Hell, I want to tell the whole fucking world. Doesn’t she understand what it’s been like to have kept this secret inside me? All these years, pretending like it never happened, but never really being able to forget?

“A mother knows their child. If Nicholas ever finds out, he will kill his father. My son’s life would be over. So I’m begging you to never see Nicholas again.” I gasp. A migraine starts to take form. Is she for real?

“Get out,” I say quietly. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell Nick what his father did to me, but his mother has no right to ask me not to. She has no right to ask me not to see Nick again. I love him. I love him more than I’ve ever loved another person.

“Shannon, he’s my son. I’d do anything to protect him.”

“And I love him. I’d never do anything to hurt him!” I yell back at her. “I said get out.” She stands, not saying another word, and quietly retrieves her purse from the door. Before she exits, she gives me one last pleading look. I slam the door.

Once it’s shut, I turn, pressing my back into the hardness of the wood and slide down. Niko is at my side the moment my butt hits the floor. He looks about as sad as I feel. He lies down on the floor with me, placing his soft head into my lap. I’m amazed at how this animal knows exactly how and when to comfort me. I lower my head, placing it into my palms and begin to cry. I’ve cried so much in the last three days.





NINETEEN





I wake up on the couch as I have every morning since Nick walked out of my life eight days ago. I haven’t been able to sleep in my own bed. The bed where he’s had me in every possible way I can imagine in the short time we have been together. Every time I go into my room, all I can see is us and the happiness we once had..

I throw the blanket off me and sit up. Nausea hits my stomach and the feeling I’m about to vomit washes over me as my mouth starts to fill with hot saliva. I leap off the couch and race to the guest bathroom. I don’t even attempt to go to mine. I know I wouldn't make it.

I throw everything up just as the seat hits the back of the toilet. I’m sweating and hugging the porcelain god. Another wave of nausea hits and I vomit again. I don’t know how I have anything in my stomach to release. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, and even then, it was more nibbling on food than anything.

I faintly hear knocking at my door, but I’m too spent to get up. I don’t know if I’m finished puking my brains out yet. My back aches and my head is throbbing.

Great!

A migraine is just what I need to top my day off, and it’s still early in the morning. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Yeah, I know, gross, but I don’t care. I haven’t showered in a few days so what’s more grossness?

“Oh my God, are you okay?” I hear Nikki say from the entryway to the bathroom. I look up from the toilet and turn my head as she enters the bathroom. She kneels down next to me and places her hand on my forehead. I attempt to throw up more contents from my stomach. Apparently, nothing is left as I’m only dry heaving.

Nikki stands up, and a few seconds later, I hear running water from the sink. The water doesn’t run long before she is kneeling back down to the floor next to me. She rubs a cool cloth over my face. It feels good, much better than the back of my hand. She reaches over me and flushes the toilet.

“Thanks,” I murmur as I sit back on my butt, against the tub. I’m zapped and I only just woke up. Less than two months ago, I had the flu, but this feels worse.

“You look like pure shit. Get up! I’m taking you to see a doctor.” She stands and reaches for my hands, pulling me off the floor. I feel like shit too.

“I don’t want to go see a doctor. I just need to lie down,” I tell her.

“You’re going, but first you are showering and putting on clean clothes. You smell, and I’m around smelly people all day long. When was the last time you bathed?” she asks. A couple of days…surely not longer than that, but hell, I don’t know really. When was the last time my life wasn’t scattered on the floor being trampled on? That’s a better question.