Chapter 24 Vanna #2
“He mentioned you looked familiar. I guess I’m not surprised.”
“Well, you’re the only one because I literally can’t wrap my head around it.”
Stone looks down at me with a slight frown.
“He’s not so bad. Doesn’t have any other kids and from what he’s told me over the years; it’s his biggest regret. But having a relationship with him is up to you. Might help if you’re seeing him almost every day.”
I nod, “Yeah, maybe.”
Though it’s almost midnight, he asks me to watch a movie with him and after the night I’ve had, it doesn’t sound like the worst idea.
Something normal might take my mind off everything.
As I change out of my uniform and into my pajamas, Stone is turning on some Marvel movie and making tea.
“How do you feel?” He asks, hiding behind his mug.
I shrug, “Fine, why?”
He surveys me, studying my face and then my body as if it would tell him secrets my mouth never would.
“Just checking in.”
I fight the smile threatening to break free across my lips as a knock on the door sounds. Stone pushes to his feet and goes to answer it.
“Who the fuck could that be?” I wonder, setting my glass on the coffee table.
“I... don’t know.” He pushes up from the couch and makes his way to the door.
He peaks through the peep hole, then cracks it open.
“Can I help you?”
I stand, shuffling into the kitchen, curious to see who would be ringing our doorbell this late at night.
A frail, dark-haired woman peers inside, eyes widening when she spots me. Pushing past Stone, she comes into my apartment with her arms folded gripping her own elbows and scratching at the thin skin there.
When she smiles, my stomach tightens. I’ve never enjoyed seeing her smile at me with a mouth full of missing teeth and cracked lips. Her smiles always cost, not in love or endearment, but in disappointment and heartache.
Stone doesn’t move from in front of her, but she wriggles her way around him.
“Hi baby.” She whispers to me.
She wraps me up in an uncomfortable embrace, her boney arms circling me loosely. I can’t bring myself to say anything as she fluffs my hair and coos about how pretty I am. This stranger...
“W-what are you doing here? How did you even...” I trail off.
“Norman and I broke up. The fucker downright abused the shit out of me.” She scoffs as if it were anything new. “’Sides, I wanted to see my baby. You never visit.”
It’s been seven years since I’ve been home and not once has she reached out.
“But what are you doing here?” I repeat, waiting for her to just spit it out.
“Well, it was ‘bout time I got the fuck outta Chicago. I figured I could stay with you for a bit, you know? You and me again. It could be so much fun.”
She actively ignores the man behind me watching our interaction. I’m sure noting the way my muscles tense and the sweat beginning to form along my hairline.
There’s something physically triggering about how she’s standing here in my home, my safe space, before me. It’s overwhelming, just the sight of her, causing the walls around me to cave in and my heart to pound until I’m sick to my stomach.
“Vanna?” Stone’s low voice cuts through my downward spiral and I catch his gaze behind my mother. “You okay?”
“I-I don’t feel very good.” I admit.
My mother rolls her eyes, waving me off. “You were always such a drama queen as a child. I swear, the doctors all told me you were a hypo-hypo... con- dammit! You know those needy little children always fakin’ sick to get attention and shit? That.”
She spins on her heels and walks straight toward the kitchen, swinging the fridge open to raid it. When she doesn’t find anything worthy, she starts opening all my cabinets, finally scouring through the pantry for the hard liquor.
Opening my good tequila, she takes a swig and slams it down on the island counter.
“That’s some good shit, Vanny.”
My eyes flutter closed and my lungs collapse. Suddenly, I can’t breathe anymore.
Stone cups my face, forcing my gaze to his. “Am I kicking her out?”
I nod, wishing to hell I could just do it myself, but in the face of my mother, I’m eight years old again and losing everything.
She’s the very symbol of the torment I lived through with each foster home, with each man that ever touched me without permission. She is every wound I’ve ever inflicted upon myself. Every mistake I’ve ever made. She is a reminder of all the times I tried to end my life.
My own personal hell is here and she’s staring me in the face.
Stone approaches her without an ounce of hesitancy and barks, “Time to leave.”
She scoffs, “And who the fuck are you?”
“I’m her fiancé and this is my house.”
I’m too wrapped up inside my own head to argue that neither of those things are true, but right now, I can’t deny that I’m relieved he’s handling this situation rather than forcing me to do it.
She only plants her elbow on the counter and leans her body against it, smirking.
“Well, fiancé, let me tell you a lil’ somethin’. That girl right there?” She points to me without even looking. “Comes with a lifetime of baggage. More than your ass can probably handle. You’re gunna want me around to take care of it when she’s fallin’ into the deep again.”
Stone’s hands ball into fists by his side as he leans down so they’re level with each other. His eyes narrow at her disapprovingly and my heart skips one of its rapid beats.
“The only baggage I will not be dealing with is you. Get out.”
Her mouth puckers, pinching in aggravation. It’s a standoff between the two.
“Vanna baby, tell this fucker I’m staying.”
Stone waits for me to interject, to speak up and take charge, but when I open my mouth air evades me. I can’t breathe, let alone make a noise. He eyes me warily, then decides to end this here and now.
“She doesn’t want you here. I don’t want you here. You need to leave and preferably now before I lose my shit.”
She forces a bout of rage filled breath from her nostrils like a wild bull. When Stone straightens, towering over her, she finally comes to her senses.
“You fucking waste of air.” She spits at me, pushing her way past Stone and out the door.
It slams, echoing through our now silent apartment like a finality I am relieved, yet unready for.
“Vanna-”
I can’t bring myself to respond to him. Instead, I’m bolting for the stairs and locking myself in my dark room.
Standing there, the past begins to replay itself in my head. Every little thing all comes flooding forward like a wave and I can’t swim. I’m drowning in trauma, and my body is shutting down. I suck in breaths like they’re not enough and it causes the room to spin.
I need...
I need...
Fuck! I stumble toward my dresser, ripping my underwear drawer open and sliding my hands along the bottom. When I don’t find what I’m looking for, I start tearing everything out. Fabric flies everywhere and soon I’m staring at the empty base.
My heart pounds even harder. It’s so fucking loud; it reverberates inside my head.
And then I realize it’s not just my heart, but my door. Stone’s fist is bouncing against it, causing it to rattle and shake.
Wracking my brain for an alternative, I remember the pack of razors underneath my sink.
I rush so quickly to the bathroom that I’m sliding against the tile floor until I hit my knees.
Throwing open the cabinet, I start rummaging through all the hair products and miscellaneous shit I keep under there until I find the unopened pack.
Fumbling with the packaging, I pull one out and start to dismantle it, slicing the tips of my fingers. My hand trembles now as I hold one of blades to my wrist. I don’t even care that I’ll ruin my tattoo. I need this. I need it like I need a full, clean breath.
I don’t think twice. I just drag the blade down the inside of my forearm. The skin splits in two, opening like a zipper. First that white fleshy layer peeks out and then a crimson river begins to flow.
As I watch, every memory begins to fade, and my heart starts to slow. A blanket of calm falls over me, and I lean into its comfort.
So, calm in fact, that I should probably worry, but all I can feel in this moment is grateful for this release.