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?