mind of Julian tending to the self-inflicted cut in my palm a forever ago.
Forget him. He isn’t here now. You’re all you have now.
Continuing on in that mindless state of numbness, I take a shower, standing under the spray, unable to feel how hot the water is. I just stand there and stare blankly at the wall, then force myself to actually wash my body but, what’s the point?
What’s the point of all this? How do you go on in a world filled with secrets, lies, and suppressed memories?
Nauseated, I can feel tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at the cuts crisscrossing each of my wrists. As if I did this when I wasn’t fully conscious.
Each night I’m plagued by nightmares and demons haunting me, and my God, I miss home so much, I’m in pain constantly.
But I can’t go home because I don’t have a home.
Quickly getting out of the shower, I rummage through the clothes I have and thank God for the long-sleeved t-shirt I threw in there. I wear that and a pair of black skinny jeans, then leave my hair to air-dry as I grab the remote and switch on the TV to find out more about the funeral.
Imagine that, having to get updates about your own mother—for all intents and purposes—on TV.
That anger starts warming my belly like a little flame until it becomes full blown inferno when I see that people all over the world have started tribute memorials, placing flowers, pictures and some other nonsensical shit in the street in honor of Nancy Montague.
They all look sad, like they are the ones who lost a mother. Like they lost more than that.
I make a grab for the charging phone and dial the only number there. It rings and rings until I cut and then call again.
“Mia, stop calling!” she answers in a huff.
“I’m really sorry for calling at the most inconvenient time for you, did you almost get caught snooping around a house that’s not yours, talking to me?” I say sarcastically.
“Mia, this isn’t funny.”
“No, what isn’t funny is not being at my mother’s funeral.”
I know whenever I refer to Nancy as my mother, it hurts Nicky, which is my goal. I’m particularly nasty today, especially after what I did to myself, so she might as well receive the brunt of it.
“We talked about this and I know you’re frustrated but I also know you’ve been lying to me?”
I pause.
“Excuse me?”
“You said you were on your way to Chicago four days ago, that you were going to seek out your old friend, Rye, you remember her.”
“I know what I said,” I mutter, biting my lower lip.
“Yeah well, Rye’s mother is in town. She told me that her daughter is in Paris right now.”
She doesn’t have to say anything else. I can hear the disappointment in her voice.
“Nicky…”
“No, you listen to me. You want a reason why you have to actually take your own life seriously?” she whispers hotly. “You want to know why your father should never find you? Well, you were four years old the first time it happened.”
“The first time it happened?” I croak. “What is it?”
“The first time that man held a knife to your throat and demanded that my sister marry him. And when she refused, he…” she trails off, her voice breaking like she’s crying. “That man, he…”
“What did he do?” I gasp, muting the volume of the TV. Oh God, what did my father do and why can’t I remember?
“He hurt you, real bad.”
Oh God.
“What happened to me?” I whisper. Jesus, what the hell happened to me and why can’t I remember?
“These are the kinds of memories that you suppressed, allowed yourself to forget because of the cruelty of them,” she whispers, making shudders go through me. A knife? To my throat? My own father?
“But Mia, when you remember, it’ll hurt you,” she whispers in a rush. “Go to Paris. Go be with your friend.”
No…
“You still haven’t told me…”
“No! Your own subconscious decided to protect you, I will as well,” she says, her voice hard and unyielding now. “Go. There’s really nothing for you here but trouble.”
And with that, she ends the call.
I have no idea what time it is when I finally start doing as I’m told, packing my bag so I can go. I already booked my flight using my fake ID. I’ll be on the next flight out of here to France.
Just then, the phone that I got four days ago rings.