It was every night now. Since the beginning of my summer I’ve suffered from nightmares. A repetitive nightmare that had me waking in a cold sweat and silently crying for hours, begging someone or something for help but no such thing ever came. Unless the creepy stalker boy was what I was being sent. The boy who would stand outside whether it was across the street or down the road; or wherever I was to be honest he was always watching me. Every time I caught his line of sight shivers trailed my spin, my hair would stand on end and my ears would begin to ring, slowly getting louder and louder. After strong efforts to explain and no one believing he was actually there, I had begun to pretend I couldn’t see him. That didn’t send or keep him away.
I sat up, pushed the dark red covers off my lap, and wiped my face on my light blue shirt. My face was cold and wet, my palms clammy. Blinking, I felt the burn behind my eyes as I cycled through the fading images of this repetitive purgatory; our first date, our first kiss, when he met my parents, the first time he said 'I love you' and slapped his hand over his mouth in an embarrassed fluster. The memories stung, a tightness in my chest. They were the one thing that was keeping me happy, keeping me from giving up. Then the scenarios would follow, where I watched him get down on one knee, watched us get our first home, and showed him we were starting a family.
A single tear streamed down my face, it was all gone. In a simple blink of an eye, with no explanation, no justification. All I could do was ask, why? Was I not good enough? Was I too much? Just assumptions and pain. I wanted to scream at him, hit him, question him but more than anything I wanted to feel his lips against mine, I wanted to hear him say I love you, I wanted him to tell me we were going to be alright and we were going to make it. All lies, of course.
I unlocked my phone and opened my gallery app. I paused looking at the home screen. Blank. A simple galaxy background. Instead of the frozen scene of my arms wrapped around Nick, smiling at his handsome face while he looked down at me, admiring me, his eyes glued to me in the picture. I blinked away the mental image and tapped into the album labeled “My Nicky”. A tinge of anger hit my stomach seeing his handsome face, his short brown hair that I loved to play with, and his greenish-brown eyes that I loved to look at.
I tapped through every single picture, finding ones of our vacations that I could crop him out of. One after another, the anger, the pain. Almost three years. Three years of absolute bullshit obviously. All a fucking farse. All…gone.
2,648 pictures.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to be mad. But all I could do was let the tears fall.
“You can go fuck yourself, Nick.” I said aloud as raw emotion shook my voice and made my throat tense. I hit delete and cleared my trash. No way of looking back. It had only been two and a half months since he left me, but I needed to find a place to start healing, and getting rid of the one thing that kept me tethered to him like a lost dog felt like a good place to start.
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I wiped the rest of the dampness off my face that I labeled as sweat and threw my phone into the mass of pillows as I crawled to the edge of my bed, letting my feet hang off. On my black stained nightstand next to me, bright red numbers lit up my face; 3:22am. That was a regular for me now. I stood, stretched, and decided to get myself a glass of water and a light snack before watching youtube and falling asleep till my parent's yelling woke me.
I decided that cheese and crackers would do. I tiptoed down the wooden stairs, holding the light brown handrail, counting the white balusters. 16, 17, 18. Placing my barefoot on the hardwood floor the counting ceased. I passed through the dining room looking out the large window that sat in front of the deep brown dining table. The blinds cracked and the light gray curtains rested on either side of the glass. Filling a cup with water, I placed it on the dining table as the light above the stove stretched just into the dining room enough to watch my step. I looked up through the window noticing the light across the road lit up a fair proportion of the street. I released a breath of relief when I couldn’t see stalker boy. Turning back into the kitchen, the orange light glared off the black granite countertops that were paired with the black oak wood cabinets. I cringed when I landed on the creaky floorboard as I pulled the cheese from the fridge worried one of my parents would wake and come down to yell at me. I grabbed a small tray for my food from the cupboard next to the sink off to the right of the fridge, now watching my steps.
Nicely placing the cheese and crackers in an easily gatherable pattern I turned to return to my room when a ping of icy cold began trailing my skin, stopping me in my tracks. The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end, goosebumps filed down my arms like marching soldiers and my ears began ringing, almost painfully.
“Kaidance…” A voice I’ve never heard before rang through, quiet but deep. In a startled daze my late snack slipped out of my grasp. The glass holding my water shattered as it hit the floor, water spraying my feet and legs and the tray ringing as it rolled around spilling my well-made food. An odd trance fell over me. I felt like I was floating.
The ringing grew louder, a burning pain behind my eyes sent tears down my cheeks as a strong migraine began to pound in my skull. Cranking my head towards the open window in the dining room I caught my eye line with the boy standing beneath the street lamp across the road. Dirty beige pants with stains covering every joint, a thin black vest moving in the breeze sat atop a blue long-sleeved shirt saturated in rips. His dark hair moved in the same pattern his vest did, his mouth flat. His eyes bored into me breaking down barriers that I had set up to keep people from reading me. A random person, that I’ve never talked to, that I’d been seeing for only a couple of months that apparently no one else could see, was breaking the one thing only one person has ever got passed.
“Kaidance. You are…in…danger…” The voice faded, sending waves of confusion-filled fear through my veins. I stood there staring, waiting, and hoping he would go away. My eyesight had gone black and I seemingly lost consciousness.
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I blinked my dry eyes as it felt as if my lids might stick. I couldn't tell if he moved or finally left but once I realized he was gone I was back in the real world standing in a puddle of water. Mom was at my feet holding my hand, her dirty blonde hair that she dyed regularly pulled up by a clip. The lines in her face deepened between and under her brown eyes that were pinched with worry. Dad was pacing behind her, his hair rapidly graying on the top of his head, his eyes laced with irritation. His phone was pressed to his ear and his voice was filled with annoyance.
“Yes, it’s happening again. We got up after we heard some crashing, found KD down near the kitchen standing in front of the dining room window staring out to the street repeating the words "I see you, I hear you.” I blinked again.
“Thomas. Thomas!” Mom turned to Dad to notify him; I was back in the land of the living.
“This is the seventh time in three months, we are running out of dishes here, Doc. Tell me what I can do.”
I looked around trying to understand what just happened. I had dropped my water and my cheese and crackers. Damn, that was the last of the crackers I thought before I looked at my Mom; half dazed. Not sure if what I was seeing was real I reached out and placed my hand against my Mom’s face. She grabbed my hand and pressed it into her cheek, signaling that she in fact was real.
“Hey honey. Come on back, I am here for you.”
I blinked, lie number one, my brain screamed. She was never there for me, she thought I was crazy actually. Crazy enough to put me in with a shrink.
“Okay, we will see you at ten.” Dad clicked his phone off and shoved it into his pocket and knelt down next to Mom. I could only recall this happening a few times, but seven?
“Hey sweetie, wanna tell us what’s going on?" Mom's thumb ran over my knuckles on my left hand as she slowly asked.
"What were you doing?” Dad asked.
“We obviously know what she was doing, Thomas. Let’s just get her back to bed, Julie moved her session to ten, right? We can join and talk about it later.”
“What…why…why are we going to Julie’s?” I asked, barely able to move my mouth because my jaw was so tense from clenching so hard.
“Don’t try to talk honey, you’ll wear yourself down and you’ll faint.” Mom pet my hair and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“Don’t baby her, we need answers. Why does this keep happening?”
“Do not start this now Thomas. We can have this discussion later.” Mom gritted through her teeth in a threatening tone.
Dad stood, turned around, and walked away returning with a blanket a few moments later. Without another word he wrapped me in the blanket and hoisted me up in his arms, taking me upstairs. With each step my eyes got heavier, my body grew more limp. I looked up at Dad once more as he gave me a small smile and my eyes closed and I fell back into a sleep-like trance.
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I slapped my lids open wincing against the bright light seeping into my room. I rubbed my eyes and felt around my soft plush blanket to find myself back in my bed.
What the hell happened last night, was I kicked by a moose?”
I peeled open my eyes in an attempt to prove myself correct and I was indeed back in my room. Closing my eyes again I began a stretch that revealed I have several knots in my back. Sitting up I tensed my upper back tightening my shoulders with the hope to extinguish the awful pinch in my mid-back but I only made it worse. With a groan, I climbed off the bed and began to get dressed. I was supposed to see Julie today - she always told me the best way to motivate myself was to get dressed for the day. I always found that to be the hardest part.
I slipped on a dark green T-shirt and scanned the room for my favorite jeans that I know I put out for myself yesterday. I searched over my queen-sized bed decorated with a dark red comforter and black satin pillows that sat in the middle of my room directly paralleled with the large window at the front of the space. I looked towards my desk that sat in between my bed and the window and smeared my gaze towards my closet when I found no jeans. I narrowed my eyes, searching, when I caught sight of my mirror in the corner between the closet and the desk which captured a majority of my room. Including me.
I stepped a little closer picking up on all those little details I was just too insecure to allow myself to notice on a regular basis. My eyes, one a sapphire blue and the other a deep forest green, both laced with hints of hazel seemed to have sunk in my face. My jaw was tense, my dark brown locks bounced around my head in knots, I had acne breaking out around my nose, a little scar on my temple that I can’t seem to remember how it go there, and a scar I got when I was twelve while I was being treated. A long trailing scar that started behind my ear and ran down my neck and ended in the center of my chest, I had gotten it after fighting the nurses that were trying to help me when I was sick and in the hospital. I was just so scared.
Scanning over my reflection, each and every noticeable point on my body stood out. The tightness in my shoulders, my seemingly very small wrists, the crook of my elbows, the knobs of my knees that seemed to angle away from each other, I had let the hair on my legs really get out of hand and the odd pink tint to my toes.
Letting my eyes fall I found my jeans hiding under my desk chair. Slipping them on, I felt a pinch of relief that I could hide myself in my clothes. Checking the alarm clock, 9:12am, I pulled on two different colored socks and wrapped a blanket around myself so I could go get some food in my stomach as I listened to my gut grumble. It completely stopped when I cracked my door and heard malice directed towards my father. Here we go, folks.
“You’re making this all about your work, Thomas. You’ve always been way too into your work, obviously same with your-”
“I get it, Nicole. I’m getting my shit and I’ll be out of your hair!” Dad yelled back.
“You just don’t understand. You never listen to me.”
Slipping through the crack of my door, I tiptoed around the creaky floorboards that I had mapped out in my head. I sunk down the stairs, in hope to stay out of my parents' earshot. I crept a little closer trying to stay as adjacent to the wall as possibly capable. I knew if one of them saw me, they would drag me into the conversation and use me on the other parent.
“I understand enough.” Dad said pacing back and forth between his office and the living room. “You didn’t want to work this out, you didn’t want to figure a way around this and pull our family together. She may not be mine, but she is my life’s work. She is why I am living at this point.”
“This is what I am talking about! You can’t even take responsibility, you’re wrapping yourself in your work and you’re trying to turn it on me as if I’m the bad guy! I’ve been the one to take care of her, it was my brother who saved her life!" The conversation got really quiet, unintelligible. Until Mom began yelling again, "That’s bullshit! This is all bullshit! And you can’t even be an adult about it. You’re a pathetic liar."
Silence hung in the air like thick fog, and it only got thicker with every passing minute the two of them stayed silent. No one even moved.
"What do you want me to say, Nicole? You're right? Is that what you want to hear?" Dad's voice sounded exasperated. Like he didn't want to continue this conversation.
"I want you out of my house.”
My skin went cold, my fingers numb, and my heart began to break. A single, hot tear rolled down my cheek. I slapped a hand over my mouth to silence my sobs. This was it, wasn’t it. The fighting, the talk about divorce. That’s what all this was. My stomach rocked and my heart clenched.
“Fine.” Was all Dad said in response. He couldn’t even make up the words to give another comeback? You won't even stay for me, or even take me with you? My hope in my father was fading, my love for him was drowning. He was going to leave me here with the wicked witch of the west?
Dad knelt down and zipped up a suitcase that sat in front of the stairs at his feet. He pulled the handle and headed for the door, not before turning back to Mom with a hesitant body posture, his hand on the knob.
“Is this what you want? Me in and out of the house for the next week packing and grabbing all my things? You want all this?”
“I wanted a husband-” Mom sobbed, “who would love me unconditionally, cherish me, and would never lie to me. I wanted a husband who wanted a family to be proud of, not a family to tear apart. I never wanted any of this! You took everything from me!”
Dad yanked the door open and Mom followed, throwing clothes and shoes out onto the lawn, screaming and crying words I couldn’t make out.
“Mom…” I called, quietly. “Mom.” I called louder. She stopped yelling finally. “Mom.”
Mom turned around, tears streaming down her face. Her wrinkles were deep and sunk in. Her face was red, and her face screamed agony. We stared at each other, before she slipped out the door, closing it behind her. I slowly lowered my body onto the stair three below the second landing. Eyeing the brown door, watching the gold knob. Waiting for it to turn again.
I couldn’t move. Dad was a liar? Mom seemed delusional. I…well, I was crazy so what would that make my own mother. I waited, I wanted to make sure Mom was going to come back in. It almost felt like an eternity until I watched the knob turn. Both Mom and Dad walked in.
“Hey hun.” Dad called up the stairs. Okay, no. This is not happening again.
“Don’t do that.” I stood up, quickly.
“Don’t do what?”
“Tell me what is going on right now. You’re going to fight and yell thinking I won’t hear and then pretend like nothing happened? I am so sick and tired of you not explaining to me!”
“Please don’t rile yourself up, sweetheart. You had another episode last night, and it was much longer than any of the other ones. Your father is going to take you to Julies’, and I’ll pick you up later. You need to leave in about ten minutes.”
My chest felt hollow, my heart ached. I knew when Mom picked me up, Dad would be gone. I just shook my head and treaded back up the stairs, turning my back to both of them.
“KD, come on.” Dad called to me.
“Kay, please. We worry about you and want you healthy.” Mom called.
"I am not going to my fucking therapist just so you guys don't have to talk to me."
What a fat load of bullshit. What did I do to deserve such fucked up parents? They never used to fight like this. I slammed my door behind me and sucked in a breath trying to hold back all the tears that seemed so endless.
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“Kaidence. Let’s get going, or I’ll carry you out of this house.” Dad called. I scoffed, I wouldn’t let him touch me. Then I heard Dad's footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Kaidance!" His voice roared up the stairs.
"Alright!" I screamed.
I threw my purse over my shoulder, taking a deep breath before leaving the safety of my room. Stepping out, I aggressively closed the door behind me. Checking down the stairs to find it empty, I figured Dad must already be in his car. Another argument must have driven him into hiding. What happened to my father.
I climbed into his Toyota Tundra. We said nothing to each other. Mom and I said nothing to each other. The ten-minute car ride was full of quiet radio music and pocket crackers, and unfortunately Nick. Even through this tough of a time, I couldn’t get him out of my head, he was my comfort.
Well not anymore. He was probably entertaining some fuck toy. He was always trying to get off. I continued to get angrier and angrier until Dad pulled me from this trance to inform me we were at Julie's. I sighed and reached for the door when Dad pulled me by the arm.
“I know you may not understand what’s going on kiddo, but I will always love you.”
I looked at his hand and back at him.
“You obviously did something to break Mom’s trust. And knowing Mom, you really did something stupid, so obviously you loved something more than this family.” His grasp lessened, his face expressed shock. I opened the door and slammed it shut behind me. By the time I was inside the doors, Dad was leaving the parking lot.
Disappointment. That’s all I could think of. That’s all I could label my father.
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