He was startled awake by a persistent banging on the door. The clock on his nightstand read 2:40 AM. He groaned into his pillow. "Go away!"
"Norman." Her voice was cracked and broken and split right down the center of his name.
He sat up and threw his legs over the side of his bed, rising shakily to his feet. "Norma?" His bedroom door was open and he crossed the living room in a mere five strides. He rubbed hard at his eyes, trying to get the cobwebs out of his vision. "Norma? What's going on?"
She stood there underneath his skylight, trembling against the drop in temperature. Her eye was black and blood slid down her face from a wound at her temple. Norman felt the world shift around his feet. "What happened?"
The tears slipped from her eyes. One hand clasped around his. Norman brought it to his lips. "Norma. Tell me what happened."
"My ex. He showed up at my house. I tried…"
His heart clenched tight in his chest and pulled her into a hug, closing the door behind her. "It's okay, Norma. I'm here now. Nobody's gonna hurt you. You're safe."
It was an avalanche of emotions after that, her face in his neck, her hands folded into his t-shirt, her entire body heaving with the strength of her sobs. He led her into the living room. "Sit down, okay? I have to get the first aid kit." He dropped his lips to her forehead. "Jesus Christ." Fell from between his gritted teeth as he turned away and headed to the bathroom.
His fingers shook around the plastic. He grabbed a stool from his kitchen island and set it in front of Norma. "Pick up your head. Let me see." Norma's eyes stay fixed on him while he sprayed a cotton ball with peroxide and moved to dab it on her wound. "Who is he?"
"His name's John. John Massett. We dated in college. Got pretty serious."
"Why did he…why did he do this to you?"
"I don't know, Norman. I don't know."
The wrath was bubbling up quick and dangerous and Norman could barely smother it. Logic outweighed his darker thoughts, at least for the moment. "I'm gonna call the police."
Norma blanched. "No. No, don't."
"Norma, he hurt you. He deserves to be in prison."
"Please don't. Please." Her deep blue eyes begged him and all his rationality retreated to the darkest recesses of his mind. He wanted to kill the man who put his hands on her.
"Okay, Norma. Okay. But, you have to stay here. Just for a little bit until I figure out what to do."
She leaned forward and into him, her head under his chin, one hand laced through both of his. "You're gonna protect me?"
"Of course. You don't have to worry. I'll take care of you."
"I love you, Norman. I love you so much."
He dropped a kiss to her forehead and grinned. "I love you, too. And, I'm gonna get that bastard. I promise."
He wasn't thinking straight. Emotions were clouding everything over. His anger was red and his bitterness was black and his sadness was the darkest shade of blue. He drove on auto pilot and found himself in front of his mother's house, the setting sun casting shadows over peeling egg shell white paint. He pressed two fingers to his eyes and groaned against his mental anguish. Anything to fight off the urge to do what he wanted to do right now.
The thought kept coming, though, and Norman was powerless to stop it. The steering wheel squeaked under the pressure his hands were applying; that slight sound pulled him from his daze. The next thing he knew, he was at the front door and slipping his spare key into the lock. He headed for the hall closet. What he wanted was there. Rage pulsed dully behind his eyes as he tugged the pistol from the confines of its box and tested its weight in his palm.
Before he could chicken out, he tucked it into the back of his pants and covered it with his shirt tail. The front door creaked open, startling Norman. He shut the closet door behind him just as his mother entered. Surprise and fear took over her features until she realized who it was. "Norman. You scared me."
"Sorry, Mom. Dylan called to ask me if I could check to see if Dani left one of her toys over here."
"Oh. Well, did you find it?"
His thumb brushed the butt of the gun. "Nope. Bye, Mom. Sorry to just barge in."
She wrapped him in a tight hug. "It's good to see you, son."
"Yeah. Yeah. You, too."
That night, he drank. He drank until he couldn't see straight, until the entire world was spinning around his feet, until he was walking in a zig zag toward his bedroom. His phone kept ringing. He kept ignoring it. Incoherent mumbles passed his lips and his latest bottle slipped from his fingers and spilled beer all over the carpet.
He collapsed to his bed just as Norma walked through the door. "Norman." Her heels clacked closer. She gasped at the sight of him completely vulnerable and ruined. "Norman, what the hell?"
"Mmmmm."
"Norman. Hey."
Another grumble.
"Jesus." She touched his forehead. "Why do you do this to yourself, baby?"
"Norma."
"Yeah, baby, it's me."
His glazed eyes opened to slits. "Heeeyyy, beautiful."
"Norman. Dylan called me to tell me you haven't been answering your phone. I guess I know why."
His eyes drooped close again.
"Why are you drinking, Norman? What happened?"
"Noth….nothing."
"You're lying." She sighed, resigning herself to the knowledge that she'd get nothing from him tonight. She walked to the chair in the corner of the room and sat, watching him sleep soundly to the buzz of the alcohol in his system. "Good night, baby."