Pain
Chapter 22

Thoughts of Nick and I before he had become abusive plagued my head. I was thinking of how sweet he had been.. Now he was being sweet again. Was the universe telling me I need him? I mean, first my dad is abusive, then it's Nick, then Jimmy's in my life, and then Jimmy's in the hospital, and now Nick's nice. Kind of too close to a miracle for me to be comfortable...

"So what did you do to him?" I asked when we had gotten back to the house. "What did you do to stop him from killing me?"

Nick sat down heavily on his desk chair, groaning. I glanced at him after that, noticing that he looked kind of green. A sallow green. He shook his head and took off his jacket, fanning himself with his hand.

"Please don't make me think about that again," he whispered, grabbing a sandwich off the tray he had brought in earlier. "I don't want to think about it..."

I was growing curious. Why was he shielding this from me? Had he killed my father? Had he hurt him so badly he was in the hospital? In the hospital?! That's where Jimmy was!

"Did you kill him or hurt him?" I demanded, standing up and strolling to where he was sitting. I didn't know why, but thoughts of my father being harmed brought anger into my mind. Why did I still care about that bastard?

Nick shook his head vigorously, biting off the piece of cold peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He swallowed, a big lump forming in his throat. Nick coughed and snatched a glass of milk off the tray and chugged it down, gasping for air after he was finished. Soon he was looking back at me nervously.

"I didn't kill him," he muttered, "Don't worry."

I shook my head. I really wouldn't have cared if he hurt my dad. Would I? I didn't think I would... But I had acted so harshly when he had refused to tell me what he had done... And he still hadn't answered the question.

"So what did you do?" I asked skeptically, falling onto the bed. He shrugged and bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at the ground.

"I kind of hit him really hard in the back of the head with a brick," he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to. It was instinct."

"What?!" I screamed, even after his apology. "How could you do that?!"

He bit his lip and stared at me in surprise and worry, and I suddenly noticed the dark purple circles under his eyes. Maybe I was being too hard on him; he did save my life after all... I sighed and slumped on the bed, staring up at the cracked, tan ceiling.

"It's okay. I overreacted." I sat up again and studied him once more. His hair looked lank and greasy; his face was pale; and his eyes were bloodshot. What was with him?

"What's wrong, Nick?" I asked, standing up and kneeling in front of him. "You seem really messed up.."

He looked up with a tear sliding down his cheek, a finger rubbing the cast on his arm. Then he bit his lip, staring behind me into space. He blinked.

"It's nothing," he sighed, licking his dry, cracked lips. I placed my hand in his, then lifted his head.

"It can't be nothing," I stated matter of factly, "You look like shit."

He laughed at this, a smile forming on his face. I had made him laugh. Good sign? Nick sighed once more and looked down at my hand caressing his, biting his lip.

"You're right. It's not nothing. It's something alright," he whispered, starign into my eyes. I could feel the sudden heat of my cheeks as he continued staring, and I broke my gaze, looking away for a moment. Then I studied his face even more, staring at his unshaved chin; his pockmarked cheeks. I sighed and wished he wasn't being so difficult. I wondered why at that moment, placing my other hand, which wasn't holding his own, on his knee. I sighed.

"What is it?" I whispered, rubbing his hand. "You can tell me."

Could he? I mean, he had broken my trust, but was his trust in me still fully intact? I hoped so. Whatever was making him like this wasn't good. Not at all.

"It's..." I noticed that his eyes were darting back and forth, his cheeks suddenly appearing greener. What was his problem? Why was he so afraid? Of what?

"It's my dad," he finally whispered. Of course. Why hadn't I thought of that? Of course.

Suddenly footsteps were pounding outside, and Nick glanced at me, his eyes darting back and forth. "Quick! Hide!"

I stumbled up and let go of his hand, sprinting toward his closet. When I had barely gotten inside, the door to Nick's room burst open, and I gasped. The man standing there was large. Very large. Big enough to be a football player. And he had a beard. A short one though. His hair was disheveled; long and brown, and I could see streaks of gray in it. His plaid work shirt was untucked, and his pants were ragged and dirty. In his hand he held a paper. He was clutching it so tight that it had become crinkled...

"What the fuck is this?!" he roared, and I could see the spit fly out of his mouth and land on Nick's cheek. He didn't wipe it away.

"Why the fuck do you keep failing these classes you stupid fuck?!" continued Nick's father, his face red and a vein popping out on his forehead. I could see Nick as he stared at the wall behind his dad.

"You idiot! Get some good grades for a change so that you won't end up like me! Dammit! How could I end up with a stupid fuck like you?!"

I could see as Nick cowered inside his mind. He was struggling not to burst out in tears, struggling to keep his anger in control. I could see it all. But Nick was used to it by now, I guess. How could I know? Well, I'd gone through the same thing. And I had done exactly the same thing.

"You stupid fuck!" Nick's dad said as a conclusion. Then he smacked Nick in the head hard enough to make Nick fall. He fell without a sound, except for the dull thud of his body as it made contact with the ground. I could see Nick as he tried not to cry.

Nick's dad was continuing his rampage of anger. Soon he was kicking him in the ribs, and making Nick finally cringe so that he could get the satisfaction he so enjoyed. I could see it all. I could understand who was who. I was Nick and his dad was my dad. I knew how it felt. And it hurt.

Why did it hurt though? Why did it hurt for me to see Nick being abused like that?

"Stupid fuck! Maybe next time you'll learn to actually do something! I could care less if you cheat, just get some good grades you stupid fuck!"

Nick was trembling as his father gave him a final kick in the ribs. Then he left the room. I rushed out from my hiding place, running to Nick's side. I grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before moving aside his bangs so I could see if he was awake. He was.

"Hey," I breathed, suddenly feeling tears overcome me. They blurred my vision, and I could hardly see anything as Nick lay there. He was just laying there. "You going to be okay?"

He nodded slowly, and I could see that, since my tears had long ago fallen. I smiled nervously. I wanted to let him know something. But I couldn't. To do that would hurt me, and me only. But I wanted so badly for him to know. So badly.

"It's going to be okay," I whispered, brushing away his bangs as hey slid back down. "It's going to be okay."

He smiled back, a bruise slowly forming on the side of his face. "I know. It'll be okay if you're here. Even if you don't love me, I just want you here."

And I knew why. I knew why it hurt. And it still hurt. I had always known. Always, in the back of my heart, my mind, I had always know. But he couldn't know. Never. Never could he know.

"Please promise me that you'll be here. Please? I don't want you to love me; I just want you there," he whispered. I felt so horrible. I felt so disgusted with myself. But I couldn't let it show. He loved me. He had always loved me. And I had never known.

But I had known one thing; I loved him.