The Mistake

Relived

Warning: This chapter contains scenes with mature language and violence.

Nick

"Nick." My eyes fluttered open, the sound of her soft voice making my trembling stop. She crouched down in front of me, her weary eyebrows knit together. "Why are you out here again? Did he walk out again?" Her breath fogged up as she talked from the early morning cold. My teeth rattling, I nodded yes. She cast her look down and frowned and I thought how much older she seemed to have aged in just a few months. She was still beautiful but the wrinkles on her face sagged her face down, the gray hairs on her head were noticeable now, and there was a pain in her eyes that had only deepened each passing day.

I noticed the bruise on her left eye then, even though she'd tried hiding it under layers of makeup, the purple tint still seeped through. My heart sank and my throat tightened up. Another one. I looked away.

"Oh, sweetie, you're trembling. Come on, get in." The only thing that hadn't wavered was her voice. Soft, warm, caring. It was soothing, a reminder that there was still something of her past self alive inside.She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and stood up, taking out the keys from her pocket and unlocking the door.

This wasn't an unusual thing anymore. My mother worked the night shifts sometimes, too, because she said the pay was better, so I was left alone with him. It was terrifying. I would lock myself up in my room, hoping to God he wouldn't walk in.

But this time, I was out with my friends since late afternoon, and by the time I'd gotten home, my father had gone out again to get drunk or high or both. I was locked out. I stayed out on the wooden porch as night fell, waiting for him to get back until I fell asleep.

It was dawn, and he still wasn't back.

My mother gently guided me in, the weakened wood creaking with each step. "Try to get some more sleep. It's 5 am." She tucked me into bed and combed my hair back as she watched me drift off.

***

The sound of a slamming door shot me out of bed. "John, you're drunk, please get into bed." A murmur, she tried to keep her voice low so as not to wake me, but the walls were paper thin.

"I'm- I'm not drunk." He whispered back in a calm, almost serene tone. "I'm just tired."

"John... you locked him out again." No reply. "John, you left him out all night, he's only eight years old. You can't keep doing this-"

"Hey!" He growled viciously along with the sound of something crashing to the floor. My blood ran cold. "Don't fucking raise your voice at me. I'm trying to talk calmly."

"I- I'm sorry. I know you are. I was just thinking maybe drinking all night wouldn't be the best thing for us. I can't be here watching him, I work all night and with your drinking-" The sound of skin hitting skin rang through the house, I flinched and hid under the covers of my bed, my breathing getting heavier as my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.

"Don't fucking patronize me, you bitch! What, you think you're so much better than me?"

"I'm not, I'm just trying to help, please-!" Another hard punch rang out as she yelled, and although my body was on fire, I was frozen. I couldn't move. I hadn't realized I'd started shivering again, only this time it wasn't from the cold.

"You fucking disrespect me in my own house? After all I've done for you and your piece of shit son?"

"John, stop! Stop!" A loud bang and a crash. The words my mom would repeat to me every time they fought rang loudly in my mind. Nicholas, no matter what you hear, you do not go in, okay? You go to your room, and lock the door. No matter what. I couldn't bear to listen, I covered my ears with my hands and pressed down as hard as I could, my fingernails digging into my scalp, I felt something wet drip down.