The Mistake [Norman Reedus] Book One {{COMPLETED}}

Chapter 24

Norman and me laid there on Sean's guest bed, our legs hooked in a mess of love, our bodies pushed together, and our hands entwined gently.

"I don't want to leave." I whispered softly, snuggling closer.   Norman's arm made me feel safer than I had in the past week, and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief knowing that I was going to be OK; for now.

"I know, but I promise I won't let you face your home alone." He answered, enclosing his extra hand around the back of my head.

My stomach dropped, and I knew that I was lying straight to him.  Him and his heart were both set on experiencing the journey back to Montana, and I felt terrible for helping him believe it.  I knew that he would object when I would tell him that I had been set on going alone, for family purposes.  He would probably go off like a bomb, and refuse to let go of me or something, but I had to do this.  If my mother found out that I brought him with me just to protect me from her terrible wrath, she wouldn't hesitate to shoot my in the head.

"I bought the tickets." I said, pulling away a couple inches and looking up at him.  He looked down and smiled.  "Good.  It'll be fun.  Promise." He said, resting his lips on top of my head as I buried my face in the covers, ashamed of what I was saying.

Ticket.  I corrected myself, trying my best to stay awake.  I was fearful of what the nightmares for me would hold that night, but the warmth and happiness of this moment (Other than my paranoid mind that kept yelling at me to tell Norman the truth) was too perfect.  Sleep managed to win over me, and I drifted off into the world of fear.

The sirens.  The sirens crowded everything.  My thoughts, my heart, my stomach, my eyes, ears, legs, twitches, arms, life.  Sirens everywhere, and I couldn't get them out.  

The image of my father being thrown into the back of a police car, wet from the water, was permanently etched into my brain for the nights to come, and my throat burned with the water that felt like acid.  My body reeked of smoke off his cigarettes, fish from the quarry, and the alcohol that he got on me.  

A police man asked me where I lived, and I kindly took his hand, jumping down from the back of the car a lady had set me on.  Another man wrapped me in a fuzzy towel, and I led the police man to his car.  After we got in, he turned his sirens on, and I told him the way to go.  Luckily my father took me to the quarry so much, I knew the way by heart.  

When he pulled into the driveway, my mother ran outside, startled by the sirens blaring.  Her hand clutched her chest as the man explained what was happening, and my finger kept reaching up to my ear.  It was itching, and ringing, and didn't seem to be working straight.  Was I in shock?  Or was it just water?  

My mother stood behind me, wiping tears that I knew were probably fake, and nodded occasionaly to the sorry cop.  He finally tilted his hat with a goodbye, poked me gently on the nose, and left.  My mother led me inside with her hands on my shoulders, and when we got to the living room, she spun me around with great force.  Her eyes flitted up and down my body, and her hand slammed onto her hip as she smacked her lips, shook her head, and raised her arm to mine.   She held them, but to my surprise, her grip only got tighter.  I ended up having to pull away with tears, and mend the cuts on my arm from her fingernails.  

And that's when it began.  The hitting.  And it all progressed. I didn't know any better than to just let her do this to me, and all I did was sit there and hold back the tears of my dad and pain.  Blood, sweat, fear, anger, hate, and pain all swirled up in my insides until I would scream into my pillow.  Until my throat gave out only a weak squeak.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO. . .

"NO!" I screamed, jumping up and noticing how tight my cheeks were from the tears and nightmares.  "Norman? Norman!" I said frantically, my voice cracking.  My hands patted the blankets around me as I sniffled and wined for his comfort.

"What, what?!" 

I finally found him hidden with his head under his pillow and his body stiff and tired.

I didn't say anything, and just pulled his arm over me while I shook in his arms.

"I can't go home?" I cried, my throat jumping.  

Too many tears.  Too much pain.  Too many memories.  Not enough laughter.  And not nearly enough love.  

Norman simply held me tight and respected what I meant.  We both knew that I still had to go.  That I still had to face what lie ahead for me.  My mothers hatred for my fathers accident.  And Beth's punishments for my going to jail.  

"Grace?" A sharp whisper rang from the door.

I lifted my head, Norman still encasing me in his arms.

"IS this your ticket?  It says the flight is in two hours.  Shouldn't you, and err, Norman be leaving?" Sean asked, holding up a two tickets.

I told him.  That Norman wasn't coming.  And he respected my decision, so instead of saying I had just one ticket, he held up the real one I would use and the old one from Norman's flight from Montana.

I sniffled, wiped my cheek, and looked at Norman.

"We should pack." He said.

My heart pounded as we got up and shut Sean out.  We gathered stuff we would need for a month, since that's how long I would be going for, and the whole time, my mind nagged me on what I was doing wrong.

Don't wear that shirt in front of your mother.  This one might show my scars.  That one is too hot.  Too cold.  Too ugly.  Too sexy.  Stop judging what you're wearing.  Start folding the clothes neatly.  Stop staring at Norman, you're freaking him out.  Sean is listening to us.  Stop thinking about the boys.  Think about your mother.  Auntie Beth.

And most of all:

Stop lying to Norman.  He's your boyfriend for godsake!