31. Nik
Nik
It’s not until a warm crimson trail runs down my thigh that the top on the pressure building in my chest pops.
Things with Shane have been… tense. He’s home less and less, and when he is here, he’s not really here. Used to be, I’d just miss him when he was away, but now I miss him even when he’s home. And when he’s not, my bones ache at night without his body beside me in a way they never have before.
The cut’s not deep by any means, it probably won’t even scar, and Shane doesn’t even notice when they’re on my legs. Honestly, I don’t think he’d notice if I cut all my hair off at this point.
I was thirteen the first time I realized I could shut everything down with a little pain. Wade had just started sneaking into my room at night. At first, we’d just hang out, talk, watch a movie, just whatever. Then he asked if it was okay to kiss me.
It felt wrong, but there was something about the way he looked at me, like I belonged to him that made me want to do whatever he asked. I just didn’t want him to leave me.
When things went further, the heaviness in my chest became harder to ignore after he’d leave the room. It felt like I was drowning under my comforter.
After one of the times, I got in the shower and just wanted to wash that feeling away. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to turn the faucet on that hot, but the moment the scalding water stung my skin, that feeling finally went away.
It wasn’t long after that I realized it didn’t have to be hot water; it could be a flame or a blade against my skin, or my thumb rubbing against my palm until it burned.
My phone buzzes, pulling me away from the trance that red path has me in, and I jump up. One drop splatters on the linoleum before I’m able to wipe my thigh with a towel.
When I pick up my phone, expecting it to be Shane, the pressure builds all over again.
It’s my reminder from the pharmacy to pick up my birth control, but that can’t be right.
I haven’t even started yet this month.
The script is always ready the day before I finish my period.
I scroll through my phone and pull up my cycle tracking app.
Fuck.
I never miss a pill, so there’s no way…
Just my fucking luck.
Even mother nature is trying to mess with me now. Annoyed, I sigh, tossing my phone down and heading through the apartment to get dressed.
Stress can make you late, I think. It’s never done that to me, but I’m pretty sure it’s a thing.
Stressed would be an understatement for me at this very moment.
I’m barely cutting it to make enough for rent and bills and shit, even working as much as I do.
Shane gives me money from time to time for different things, but since I never actually know if he’ll be around, I can’t really count on his income.
I tell myself it’s stupid to even consider it as I walk into the pharmacy and get my prescription, but I grab a pregnancy test anyway.
It’s not until I’m in the car on my way back that my mind trails to what might happen if I am—
Chill out, Nik. There’s no way.
The moment, I make it back home, I’m fully freaking out and head straight to the bathroom. The plastic stick shakes between my fingers and I drop the wrapper to the floor.
It’s the longest three minutes of my life because I cannot be—
I know people have babies all the time when they’re unprepared.
I mean, look at Ash. But that’s not my situation; I’m barely capable of keeping myself afloat these days.
It’d be cruel to bring a child into this shitstorm.
Not to mention, Shane’s in no fucking place to parent any more than I am.
And I live here, so I can’t just pretend it’s not his and find some successful husband to play daddy.
Fuck, Nik. That was mean.
I know why Ash did what she did, and I probably would have done the same.
Why am I even getting all worked up anyway? The pill is like almost always effective. What kind of sick joke would the universe have to be playing for me to be the like point zero-one percent?
No way.
No one’s that unlucky.
My phone timer dings, and I grab the stick, blowing out a breath with my eyes closed before finally looking at it.
Heat races up my neck, spreading across my face, and my throat constricts.
No.
No no no.
There’s not only two fucking lines, but they’re clear as day.
Not faint.
At all.
The room sways a little, and I can’t feel the plastic in my hands anymore.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe, gasping and gripping the vanity.
Finding the test I’d dropped at some point, I pick it up and look at it again before throwing it across the room.
This cannot be happening.
“Fuck!” I shout, slamming my hands down on the sink.
Then, a shriek I’m not even sure is mine echoes off the walls as I knock everything from the vanity. Backing up until I hit the door, I slide down to my butt and cover my mouth with the back of my hand. My eyes squeeze closed, and I slam my head back into the wood. Once. Twice. Three times.
Shane’s an addict.
I’m unwell.
And I’m—
Fuck me.
Sucking in breath after breath, I stay on my bathroom floor for several long minutes.
This is what I’ve always wanted with him, the one day when Shane’s clean dream. But he’s not clean, and I was just bleeding all over the bathroom to cope with my life.
That’s not a fucking dream, that’s a nightmare.
I want to cry, but what breaks from my throat isn’t a sob. Instead, it’s a laugh—a maniacal, guttural, joyless laugh, because what the actual fuck!
That’s all I can manage to think, what the fuck.
I tried! I’m on birth control and I take it just like I’m supposed to! This isn’t supposed to happen right now. It’s supposed to happen after. After we figure it out. After we have our life in order. After we’re on solid ground.
Not now!
I go still, the room silent except for the drip of the leaky faucet in the tub.
The vision I had of us one day having what Ash has with Casey and Maggie isn’t what this scenario looks like.
This is me struggling to survive and Shane being absent.
What will happen if I can’t handle the stress? Who would look after the baby then?
For the briefest of moments, my eyes sting, and I really want to fall apart. But I don’t. Instead, I suck in a breath and stand. Leaving the bathroom, I dial the clinic with shaking hands.
I can’t consider any other options. There are none for me really, and if I allow myself to think about it for too long, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get up. I think I might just lie down and whither under the crushing weight on my chest.
So, as the woman answers the phone, I don’t say anything other than, “I need an appointment.”
“Okay. Can you tell me what you need to be seen for?”
“I uh… I’m…” Shit. I can’t get the words out of my mouth. “My period’s late.”
“Okay. And is there any way you could be pregnant?”
My breathing hitches. “Uh-huh.”
She must hear something in my voice that gives her the rest of the story because she says, “We can help you understand all of your options. Can you come in tomorrow around two?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, perfect.”
Watching the clock tick as I sit on the couch and wait to head to Katies, I feel just as numb as I did when the test came back positive two days ago. I made a cup of coffee, but the dark liquid’s still half full and cold by the time I have to leave for my second appointment in Raleigh.
When I went to the first one, they confirmed what I already knew and laid it all out for me. I didn’t really have to think about it. Or maybe I just couldn’t. I don’t know.
My plan was to just go to the appointment, do what I needed to do, and never tell a soul, but the nurse said it’s good to have someone with you for the procedure.
It took me all day yesterday after to finally get the nerve to ask Katie.
Luckily, she didn’t ask what I need to go to Raleigh for.
I’m sure she’s probably just glad to get a break for a little bit.
I’m still not sure how I’m going to tell her, or if I can even manage to say it out loud.
People are going to look at me like the monster I probably am if they find out. They’ll talk about how right they all were about me all along.
As I pull to a stop in front of her house, her front door flies open, and she appears before jogging off the porch.
When she climbs in the passenger seat, she says, “What’s up, bitch?”
I smile.
“Oh shit.” Her brows pinch. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“That look on your face. You don’t make that face. Like ever. What the fuck happened?”
I exhale sharply. “I uh—You can’t tell anyone. Not JT or Shane.”
She nods.
This time my voice is barely more than a whisper when I say, “I’m pregnant.”
Her mouth makes an O shape, but no sound comes out. I feel guilty immediately for dragging her into this. Ryker’s only a couple of months old, I’m sure she probably thinks I’m terrible for even considering it.
“I’m just not in a good pla—”
“Hey! You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” She shakes her head and grabs my hand. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.” My voice cracks.
“Look, I’m glad you called me, and I don’t mind being here at all, but why isn’t Shane going with you?”
Under my breath, I say, “He’s MIA at the moment.”
“I mean, that’s no excuse. JT could definitely track him down.”
“No, I know. I just—Honestly, I just want this to be over.”
“So, you’re not gonna tell him?”
I shake my head.
“Okay.” She squeezes my hand. “Well, we’ll get through it. Together.”
I nod.
It sucks, and I feel so much guilt I could throw up, but I know this isn’t an option for me. Not with the state Shane and I are in. This baby would be doomed from the start.
She doesn’t say anything else for a long while, and I use the quiet to imagine what my life could be like if Shane and I weren’t… well, Shane and I.
It’s a cruel thing to do to oneself, but I think I deserve it for what I’m about to do.
“So, what’s the deal with you guys anyway? He just leaves whenever he wants?”
Without pulling my gaze from the window, I say, “He has a rule about not being around me when he’s fucked up.”
The grimace is audible when she says, “Isn’t he always fucked up?”
It’s all so twisted that he doesn’t even recognize the full gist of his problem. So, when he says he can’t come home high, he means he can’t come home high on cocaine. It’s like he doesn’t even consider the pills as part of the problem, but more the norm.
When I don’t respond, she says, “I’m the last person who should be giving you relationship advice, but you know you don’t have to put up with that shit, right? I know you love him, but at a certain point, it’s okay to put yourself first.”
I nod, my eyes stinging, because why does it feel like putting myself first isn’t even on the table. If I leave him, I’ll be miserable. If I stay, I’m miserable. Either way, I lose.
The procedure takes no time at all, and Katie drives us back in silence. When we’re a few minutes from town, she has me text JT to pick her up at my apartment.
As we get out of the car, she rushes over to my side. “You sure you’re gonna be okay? I can stay.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
She runs a hand down my arm. “You made the right choice for you, Nik. I know you’re hurting, but I’m so proud of you.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug.
When she releases me, JT pulls up and waves. I return the gesture and head inside.
I only make it one step in the door before the wave crashes into me, and I drop to my knees. My chest heaves as tears flood from my eyes, breaking apart on the floor. Sobs wrack my entire body in a way I’ve never experienced.
I expected to feel more relief, but there is none. It’s bone deep loathing because if I weren’t so fucked up…
Everything hurts.
Dropping my forehead to the floor, I keep thinking, if things were different, I’d have wanted that baby more than anything in this world.
I’m not sure how much time passes as I weep, but at some point, the squeezing in my chest overtakes the pain in my soul, and I get up and race for the bathroom, gasping for air.
Bracing myself on the cool porcelain, I empty the contents of my stomach, which is mostly just water because I haven’t been able to muster the will to eat anything since I found out.
When I’m finished, I lie back on the floor, letting the cold tile bite my skin while I stare at the ceiling.
How in the hell did I end up here?
I was just a kid one day, and then I woke up and now everything’s so fucked. I hate it. All of it. I’ve buried myself so deep in this shit storm, I don’t know that there’s a way out anymore.
At some point, I migrate to the bed, only getting up to use the bathroom. I’m not sure how much time I actually spend sleeping verses watching the ceiling fan go round because slowly my dreams start to fade into nightmares.
Nightmares that I can’t tell apart from my current reality.
The hours pass, then days, all while I’m stuck on this fucking carousel in my head, but I can’t move. How do you go on after something like this? Do I even deserve to move on?
Part of me feels like I just bought my one-way ticket to a life in chains because I don’t see a future where this pain lessens, and I’m not sure I’d want it to anyway.