Save Me [A Norman Reedus fanfiction - Part 1 - COMPLETED]

Chapter Seventeen - Right There Again

'Reira!' Norman's voice filled the house. 'I'm out to the shooting! Be back in the evening.'

I walked out of the kitchen where I was washing the dishes away from our breakfast, drying my hand in the sides of my jeans shorts. 'Okay, have a good day. Can you please bring some pasta on the way back home? We're gonna run out of it.'

Norman was halfway out of the door when he froze and turned only his head back around. His expression told everything: that deep and unmistakeable 'What the fuck?!' spread across his tired face. 'What?' I asked back, not getting what was his problem.

'It's enough, Reira.' He said with a deep sigh, turning fully back to the house, massaging the bridge of his nose, putting his backpack down. 'You have exactly 5 minutes to get ready and get into the car.' I remained silent and just glared at him. 'Come on, I don't have time for this shit.'

'What's wrong with you?' I asked back simply. Seriously, I didn't get his attitude. He let out a simple grunt and shook his head.

'What's wrong with me?' He scoffed. 'No, no, Reira. What's wrong with you?' He asked back, pointing at me with his index finger.

'Now it's bothering you that I try to be nice and try to help you?'

Seriously, I was getting angry at him. I was cleaning the house, making meals for us and tried to please him when he came home from a long shooting day, all filthy and tired. And he started to become more and more weird about it. During our first days, as I was starting on my daily schedules, he seemed to be happy about it. I was occupied, he shouldn't be worried about me while he was out. Except on the first night, when I fell asleep on the backporch and woke up to him, shaking me like an insane.

'What's wrong with you? You scared me!' I screamed, my heart was pounding fast in my chest.

'So...So...Sorry.' He breathed out panting, holding me close to him. 'I thought you were...'

'What? Dead?' He simply nodded, then let me go and disappeared in the house. And I felt shame because I scared him.

As days had passed, his attitude about my behaviour became more sassy. Whenever I asked him whether he wanted some more food on his plate or not, or did he have any dark color laundry - he sent me that look. That WTF look.

'Honestly: yes. This whole acting like a housewife creeps the hell outta me. So, go and get ready. We gotta leave in five.' He clapped his hands together, like a sign to ready, steady, go. I crossed my arms together, not moving an inch away.

'I'm not going there, that's for fucking sure!' I protested. I did everything to be a good girl for him, to make sure he could trust me – and that would be his answer? To drag me into a bunch of people who hates me to the gut?

'Reira, I didn't ask you... You coming or I send you back to New York and you can deal with the social working bitch – your call.'

His words hit me and hurt more than if he would have seriously hit me in the face. I felt as tears were running down on the sides of my face and I felt I was loosing control over my anger.

'FINE!' I shouted into his face then turned on my heels and ran out to the backporch, shutting the door loudly behind me. I was raging. I felt that all the collected and pressed down anger was filling me and boiling deep inside of me. I didn't fully realized that I punched into the wall of the house, but a few minutes later I could feel the throbbing, pulsing pain in my hand and forearm.

Cool, I probably just broke my arm...

But I didn't really care. The pain helped me to calm down a bit, to concentrate on a bigger pain than what Norman had caused me. Physical pain against emotional pain. My eyes wandered to the table next to the door and it caught the sight of Norman's pack of cigarette. It was instinct. I grabbed the pack, got a cigarette out and I put it into my mouth, grabbing the lighter. And right before the flame could have reach the tip of the cigarette, I froze. The realization hit me, once again, harder this time.