CHAPTER 1:NIGHTMARE

Nat's POV

(Warning- this might trigger some abuse-related memories)

'Nat!' my mother yells from the living room which makes me jump a little.

"What?" I grimly ask her.

"Nick's here!" she yells.

Nick?

"I'm coming!"I say and immediately rush to the door and run down the stairs.

"Hey," I say with a smile after I open the door.

I open the door. There was Nick standing there but it took me a few seconds to realise because his face was not like I had seen him before. There was something oddly deranging in his eyes.

Something crazy.

I fake a smile.

My smile fades away as I see Nick with a knife in his hand and the smirk on his face.

"What's the knife for?"I ask him.

He takes a step towards me and lowers the knife and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Fun," he says before stabbing me in the stomach.

Blood gushes out of me and I stand there, horrified.

He just stands there and laughs before fading away.

"Nick!"I screamed and my shrieks were swallowed in the night.

I wake with a start and put my hands on my sweaty face.

God save me from these nightmares.

It would've been easier to get rid of them if these hadn't happened for real.

That's what makes them scarier.

If these hadn't happened for real, things would've been better than they are right now.

Or maybe they wouldn't have been.

More lies and secrets would've taken their place in my life (famously known as hell).

"Nat!" my mother yells from the dining room as she did in the nightmare too.

"Coming!"I yell back and pull my uneven grease-y hair in a bun before getting out of the bed.

I walk towards the mirror and trace the scars on my arms and neck with my fingers.

My fingers move up towards my face and trace the marks and bruises on my face.

It's been a week since I left the hospital and the medicines still don't have any effect on me.

I look once again in the mirror and I am disgusted by the reflection that stares back at me.

If only I'd been stronger, I would've taught that asshole --

"Nat!" my mother calls me again. I open my door and get out of that damned room.

Everything in my life, be it my house, my appearance or the people in it, reminds me of that night when Luca was shot.

I shake my head and try to let go of those dark thoughts.

The doctor specifically asked me not to think about that bloody night and so I won't.

"Yes?"I ask her as I step in the kitchen.

I despise my own mother after that night.

It's strange how even your close ones can turn on you in the time of need.

She didn't even try to help me when I called her, she just ignored my condition as though it was a joke.

And the worst part is she's still not guilty.

"I want you to help me. Clean these dishes and then make breakfast for us" she says.

"Why the dishwasher isn't working or the maid's on leave?"I ask her with mockery clear in my voice.

"Forget it," she says with a wave of her hand and dismisses me.

Or should I say she tries to.

"Why? You're so ignorant !"I say and grab an apple from the fridge and leave.

I go back to my room and try to fall asleep again.

I keep tossing and turning until I give up all chances of sleeping right now and I go towards the mirror again.

I sit on the stool which lies in front of it and pick the cream that lies on the dressing table and start applying it to my scars and bruises.

It feels as if putting on a barbie-band-aid on a bullet wound, a thing which clearly doesn't work out.

As the cream isn't doing its job, I just get up, go to take a shower to relax my body with the warm water.

Half an hour later, I find myself on the bathroom floor and staring into the nothingness with warm water running over my body.

Staring into spaces makes my mind go blank, something I find hard to do

My brown hair is way too dirty and after washing it five times straight it gets clean and I walk out of the shower with the one towel wrapped around my body and another one around my hair.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and go out for a walk.

Strolling around the park near my house reminds me of the times I and Nick spent here.

Clearly, going there won't do any good to me so I change my track and go towards the opposite direction.

There is just withering grass and trees here and it reflects what I feel inside right now. It reflects my emotions perfectly.

It's just a mess like I am on the inside.

I got closer to the trees and run my hands over the uneven surface.

It's cracked and splintered.

I find a swing in that place and sit on it.

Time flies by and it gets dark by the time I decide to get up and leave.

My clothes are dirty because that swing had a lot of dirt on it.

I walk back to my house and a shiver runs up my spine when I see that no street light is on and the only light coming in from the moon and it illuminates the whole street.

Add some whistling wolves and rustling leaves inside it and it'll be a perfect setting for a horror movie.

I continue walking towards my house.

My house comes in sight after walking around the whole place for half an hour.

My blood boils at the sight of my house.

This is the exact place where I was drowning in my own ocean of misery and no one fucking bothered to be there, there for me.

I walk inside to find a very angry mother inside.

She just huffs but doesn't say a word which is good for me because the last thing I need is her fake concern.

I pour myself a glass of water and go towards my room.

This is what I do all day and it's peaceful.

It keeps me away from asshole Italian leaders and bloody wars and for that, I couldn't be more grateful.

Honestly, I've had enough drama for a lifetime.

I place my glass on the bedside table and I go out in my balcony.

Closed places make me feel suffocated and stuffy.

As I step in the balcony, I notice several parcels outside the house next to mine which has been vacant since forever.