A Killer Queen (John Deacon)

Chapter sixty-five

TRIGGER WARNING: !MENTIONS OF BLOOD, MURDER, AND VIOLENCE!"

My hands were placed on the door, my head up against it. There had been silence behind the door for a minute.

"Honey bunch?" I repeated suddenly getting angry at her silence. "You think you can just throw an old nickname at me and expect me to open the door? That's not how it works. What about all the other nicknames you've called me over the years? Whore, bitch, slut, tramp? Or-"

"I didn't mean those, please just open the door."

"Mum come on!" I yelled pounding my fist on the door. "What do you really want? Why are you here? You are only nice to me when you need something! Then right after I do what you want it's back to oh Nina's a slut, oh Nina's a whore. She's not a proper lady-"

"Nina do you need me to come out there?!" John asked from the nursery.

"I'M HANDLING IT!" I responded.

"It's not like that this time, please! Just let me talk to you!" My mum begged.

"Why should I mum? After everything, you and dad have put me through. What you've put everyone through! I don't get why you can't get this through your head! I don't want you in my life! You've got four other children who still want to see you for some reason so go talk to them. I'm trying to move on with my life!"

"I'm here to apologize okay?!"

I froze. Out of all the things I thought she was gonna say, that was not it.

"You wanna... wanna... apologize?"

"Yes, and it's way overdue."

I turned and leaned my back against the door. I didn't have a clue what was going on. Maybe this was just part of a plan to get me to do something again. I didn't know.

"Nina please."

My therapist would tell me to be the bigger person and just hear her out. If I wanted to get better I was going to have to try and take his advice.

I slowly opened the door with caution. My mother was standing there. Her hair had gotten a lot greyer since the last time I saw her. She wore a brown dress, a looser bun than I've ever seen her wear, tights, brown heels, and a brown purse she seemed to be gripping onto for dear life.

"Are you moving?" She asked looking behind me at all the boxes.

"Oh, yeah... we have to be out tomorrow."

She became fascinated by something behind me. I turned, following her gaze to the only photo still on the wall. One of John and I's wedding photos.

I liked looking at it every day. I had to admit, it did look odd being the only thing still on any of the walls. It was going to be the last thing I took down before leaving the flat.

"Can I come in?" She asked blinking away some tears. She took a step forward causing me to jump back in fear. I hesitated, but nodded and backed up so she could enter.

She closed the door behind her.

My mother was now staring intensely at the photo. She walked closer to it, even pulling her glasses out of her bag to get a better look.

"Why are you here mum?" I asked walking up behind her. "I don't believe you are here to say you're sorry."

"I wish I could have been there..." She mumbled not taking her eyes off the photo. It didn't seem she was listening to me.

"Hmmm?"

"Your wedding." She said turning to look at me. "Look how beautiful you are."

I was taken aback by her comment.