Nic's Devotion: An Endless Series: Book One (18 page)

     “I know Seth likes me.” Carrie uttered softly.

     I scowled and lifted my head off the pillow. What did
she mean by that? Had Seth made some sort of play for her? Jealousy reared hot
and heavy.

     “How do you know that?” I asked sourly.

     She flicked a smile up at me and I could see that her
ice blue eyes were glazed with exhaustion. “Well, you did give him my winnings
tonight.”

     My head flopped back on the pillow and I grimaced
inwardly. Where in the hell was all this jealousy and animosity coming from.
I’d been ready to go down and have a very serious conversation with a good
friend, and one of the biggest guys I knew.  

     “Actually, he’s just holding them.” I corrected, going
back to playing with her fingers. “But I promise that won’t change his
affection for you.”

     Carrie lifted her hand to cover a yawn, her eyes
blinked wearily, and her body slumped further in relaxation. I could see that
this episode had tired her out like the last one. “Is he aware that he’s just
holding it, because that discovery
could
influence his affectionate
feelings? He might end up resenting me.”  She countered drowsily. I could tell
she was rambling now; not really paying attention to what she was saying. She
was barley awake.

     I leaned closer to her and whispered softly. “You’re awesome.
No one could hate you.”

     Her eyes closed and pinched faintly. “That’s not true.”
She exhaled groggily. “My mom hates me.” The words were slurred as she fell
into sleep, but still understandable.

     I frowned. Why would she say that? The girl stayed at
home to take care of her mom when she could be living on campus and not have to
deal with taking the bus every day. She worked two part-time jobs to help out
with the bills at home. Her mom should be grateful as hell.

     Sounds from the party were muffled enough to not
disturb Carrie as she slept. Her breathing was even and her face relaxed. Fuck,
she was beautiful, and I was having a hard time stopping myself from drawing
her body close into mine. But that would have felt like I was taking advantage
of her as she slept; feeling her up when she was unconscious.

     Instead, I laid there staring at her wondering what in
the hell had happened to her, and what in the hell was happening with me. 

Chapter Fifteen

Carrie

    
A heaviness pressed down on me. It was difficult to
breathe. I tried to push and shove at the weight on top of me but I couldn’t
budge it. I began to cry because the weight began to hurt me. It was grabbing
and pinching me and I didn’t understand why. Why would it be hurting me? I
heard and felt my clothes ripping and I could barely breathe, and then I really
couldn’t breathe. Suddenly the weight stopped hurting me and slumped heavily
onto my body. Something warm and wet was pouring over my face and chest, it got
in my mouth. It tasted like pennies I’d stuck in my mouth one time. I pushed
and wiggled out from under the now motionless burden finally getting free. I
fell to the floor and scooted away on my butt, and looking down I saw that my
torn clothes were soaked in red. There was red on my hands and on the floor… it
was everywhere. Red, red, red…

     My eyes flew open and a gasp burst from my lips. The
haze of terror slowly faded as I recognized that it had just been another
nightmare. It had been a couple of weeks since I’d had one of those. It would
be great if I never had another.

     I focused on the ceiling and my breathing trying to
clear my mind of the images that had taken over my subconscious. The height,
structure and color of the ceiling did a lot in making me forget about my dream
because it wasn’t anything like what my bedroom ceiling looked like. 

     Looking around in confusion I took in the room I was
in; cream walls, masculine furnishing, and posters of lacrosse. I was in Nic’s
bedroom. Why was I in Nic’s room? Rolling my head to the side my eyes widened
in shock at the body lying next to me in the bed.

     Nic!

     My breath exploded out and I took note that it ruffled
the hair that was lying on his forehead. His slumbering face twitched and I
held my breath at the thought of him waking up, but he continued sleeping.
Sagging in relief I let out the breath I’d been holding…slowly this time.  

     Frowning, I looked around the room again trying to
remember why I was here. Then it hit me. Some guys had cornered me and said
some very nasty things, but then Nic had arrived and hit one of them. I groaned
inwardly thinking about how I’d reacted. Of course stupid, crazy me had totally
overreacted and freaked out. To top it off I’d cried and then passed out.

     I was a catch and a half; who wouldn’t want to hang out
with me I thought contemptuously.

     Depression weighed down on me. Was my past going to
always interfere in my life? I focused again on Nic lying next to me. His
blonde hair was tussled and his handsome features had a softer cast to them in
his reposed state. Being around him had made me feel like a new person, a
different person. The past seemed to have less of a hold over me.

     But it was always there in the periphery just waiting
to rear its vicious head, leaving me comatose after it wreaked its havoc.

     Nic didn’t deserve to have his life upended by my
problems. He didn’t know what they were, and I didn’t want him to find out.
They were dark and ugly, and if he found out it would change how he looked at
me. I’d already had two episodes in front of him, and he’d treated me so
tenderly during and after them. A tenderness that something deep inside of me
craved.

     However, that tenderness would turn to horror and
disgust if he knew the truth. He’d let me get away with not explaining my
episodes so far, but he would keep asking; especially if I kept having them in
front of him. The severity of the one I’d had last night was less common, but
even my small one’s didn’t go unnoticed.

     There was also the chance that he could find out what
happened. The story was four years old but some people still remembered it. The
restaurant incident proved that. Finding information on the internet required
only a few strokes of the keyboard. There was really no way he wouldn’t find
out…eventually. There were also a few people on campus that I’d gone to high
school with…and avoided…who most likely knew the story surrounding me, or at
least, what the papers had written. Not too many people knew the real story;
only law enforcement, legal counsel, and therapists.

     An ache formed in my chest as my gaze traveled over
Nic’s features. He was well-known and in the public eye, and my past would only
bring him attention he didn’t need. I had really been fooling myself thinking
we could be anything to each other, friends or otherwise.  

     I felt like I was going to cry again, only harder than
last night. In the last four years Nic had been my only bright spot, besides
Carl, and now I had to let him go. Looking down I saw that Nic’s hand was
partially covering mine and remembered that he’d been playing with my fingers
right before I’d fallen asleep. I’d moved in my sleep but our hands had
remained touching.

     Swallowing painfully I separated us carefully so as not
to wake him and scooted off the bed slowly. Nic’s face twitched but he didn’t
wake. The clock on the bed side table displayed 4:37 a.m. I can’t believe I’d
stayed here almost all night.

     The house was quiet so the party was probably over.
Grabbing my pack, jacket, and shoes…Nic must have removed them…off the floor I
tiptoed my way toward the bedroom door and opened it cautiously. Thankfully,
this door was well oiled and didn’t creak. Slipping out I closed it softly behind
me and then listened with my ear to the door to make sure no noises came from the
other side. Nothing. My breath whooshed out in relief.

     Snoring came from one of the other bedrooms as I made
my way down the hallway which probably would have made me laugh if I was in a
better mood. Creeping down the stairs I hugged the wall to avoid any squeaky
steps. Reaching the bottom I listened and did a swift survey of the ground
floor. The house was a mess, littered with debris left over from the party, but
the only sounds I could hear was heavy breathing from the living room.

     Avoiding crinkly papers and cups I made my way to the
front door. It was locked with a dead bolt. I hated leaving and not being able
to lock the door behind me, but it was almost dawn and most home invaders were
probably done for the night. Disengaging the bolt I cracked the door and
squeezed out, closing it softly behind me.

     Once outside I breathed a little easier. I pulled on my
boots and reaching into my bag I pulled out my beanie and stuffed my loose hair
up in it. Slipping on my jacket I started walking toward the closest bus stop.

     An hour and fifteen minutes later I was creeping
through my own door. I’d never stay out this late before, but when I was
getting home late from the restaurant mom normally didn’t wake up when I
returned home. Silently I made my way down the hall toward my bedroom. I’d
almost fallen back asleep on the bus, and now I just wanted lay in my bed and
hopefully fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

     “Why are you getting in so late?”

     I spun around with a start at the hard voice speaking
from behind me. My mom stood there in her old terry cloth robe, sagging socks,
dark sleep-tangled hair, wearing a derisive expression in her face. Mother
hardly ever acknowledged me so hearing a voice had been a bit of a fright. A
vague memory of her in a more stylish robe with hair perfectly made-up floated
through my mind and then faded away almost immediately. 

     My hand clenched the material of my coat over my
rapidly beating heart. “You scared me; I thought you were asleep.”

     She sneered. “Actually, I sleep less than you think.
Why are you coming in so late?”

     I frowned at her comment. Had she been awake some of
the times I’d come home but only pretended to be asleep? It shouldn’t surprise
me, the less she had to deal with me the happier she was.

     “Well, where were you?” She repeated coldly.

     I shifted uncomfortably. “A friend had a party. I was
feeling tired so I stayed and slept in one of the bedrooms.”

     Mom’s eyes narrowed. “You were at a party drinking and
got drunk you mean.”

     “No, I didn’t drink. I was just tired from working.”
Guilt nudged at me, I don’t know why. I hadn’t been drinking. I did know I
didn’t want her finding out where I’d spent the night though.

     She moved closer and seemed to smell me for alcohol.
Suddenly, she reached up and whipped off my cap causing my unconfined hair to
spill down past my shoulders. A look of such malevolence crossed her face that
I took a step back reflexively.

     “You’re coming home from some boy’s house, aren’t you?”

     My face flushed with guilt. “It was a party and I just
fell asleep.” I stammered. 

     She took a step closer, the look in her eyes filled
with hate. “I always knew you would revert to what you really are. For three
years I’ve been waiting for you to slip up and show your true colors and now
you finally have. Coming in from sleeping in who’s ever bed you crawled out of.
All you are is a piece of tramp trash, and it’s hard to believe you come from my
womb.”

     My mother stalked me as she spit out each cutting and
hurtful word, and I backed up trembling as the force of her hatred beat at me.
I was stopped by my bedroom door as the last of her speech came to a halt, but
she wasn’t done. Lifting her arm she slapped me across the face…hard. The force
of it caused me to stumble to the side slamming the other side of my face into
the doors frame. Tears welled and pain throbbed from each of my cheeks.

     “I want you out of this house. I cannot stomach living
with you any longer. You ruined my life. You killed my husband…your father. It
was inconceivable to me that I had to spend some of his life insurance to pay
for you to get treatment at that crazy house, and because of that I live in
this rat trap. Everything is your fault.” She yelled her face filled with
loathing. “You’re father’s parents don’t want anything to do with us because
you killed their son, and my sister doesn’t want to be associated with the
scandal of it. Where does that leave me; stuck with you.”

     Hunching over I fumbled for the doorknob at my back as
her malevolence spewed over me. Turning it I staggered in pushing it closed
behind me. Twisting the lock I sank down to the floor holding my sides trying
to control my sobs. From the other side my mother yelled one more time.

     “I want you out of this house. Today.” There was a
thump to the door then footsteps stomping away.

     Pain and sobs shredded me as I curled into myself on
the floor. My face was throbbing, but my heart was eviscerated; that my mother
could hate me that much. I knew she’d blamed me for what happened, but the
level of hatred she felt staggered me. For the last three years our living
situation had been tense and uncomfortable. She’d been neither motherly nor pleasant,
but I never thought she actually reviled me.

     Feeling battered both physically and emotionally all I
wanted to do was stay curled up on the floor and block out the world. However,
my inner voice said, ‘get up; get up on your feet, one foot at a time, then the
rest will follow’.

     Hauling myself up from the floor I staggered over to my
bed and wrapped myself up with a blanket. I was shivering uncontrollably. The
chattering of my teeth was making both cheeks hurt. Lying down on my bed I tried
to curl into myself as much as possible to get warm, but it wasn’t helping
much.