Ch.7: Nicholas
The Day Nicholas Realized Anger Solved Everything 

Fourteen-year-old Nicholas could not breathe through his stuffy nose. His throat ached, and his chest throbbed with each dry cough. He trudged up to the front-door of his house with his head down, his lips parted a sliver to let the oxygen in. 

Noises echoed from inside. Nicholas unlocked the door with a heavy, painful sigh. As he made his way in, the muffled noises became more distinct — shouting, hollering, crying.

His parents, of course.

They were fighting again, standing right outside his bedroom. Nothing new. He would need to pull them apart now, to try to calm them both down. 

But today Nicholas did not have the energy to interfere. 

So he let them be. 

He reduced them into familiar background noises. 

Then he walked into the living room instead, letting the strap on his shoulder slip until his backpack dropped onto the floor. He plopped down on the couch and relaxed back. 

The world pulsed around him in time with his pounding headache. Closing his eyes, he reached a hand up and knocked his fist softly against his forehead. He wasn't sure what he was hoping to achieve with that. Temporary relief, maybe. Or pain that would distract from another type of pain. 

His parents continued fighting.

As usual, his dad was making a big deal out of the single most insignificant detail. As usual, his dad felt threatened by the mere existence of other men around Nicholas's mom. And as usual: Nicholas's mom refused to acknowledge that this man was a piece of shit despite those few carefully crafted moments he pretended he wasn't. 

I told you, Mom, Nicholas thought. I told you he'll never change. 

Never. Ever. 

Just a few years back, Nicholas's mom had moved out of this place, fed up by his dad's behavior. 

Nicholas moved out with her too, even though he hated change. Even though he hated sleeping in a bed that wasn't his, in a room that wasn't designed according to his rigid and specific preferences. But he didn't complain because at least his mom finally escaped the abuse. 

But then, Nicholas's dad showed up at the doorstep, crying and begging her to come back or else he'd kill himself, telling her he couldn't live without her, that he would change. That he loved her so much and needed her to breathe. 

Nicholas had rolled his eyes. 

Nice try, he thought. We know this is just an act. 

Nicholas was wrong. He knew it was an act. His mom didn't. 

She moved back in with his dad. 

Nicholas moved back in as well for one reason and one reason only: to protect her from his dad. To diffuse any fights, to sort things out as peacefully as he could without making things worse, without making things more violent than they already were. 

In vain. It never worked. 

Nicholas's dad acted remorseful for a day or two. Then he returned to his monstrous, abusive self. 

Predictably. 

Nicholas just didn't understand why his mom couldn't notice this pattern no matter how many times he warned her. 

Groaning, Nicholas shifted in his spot, trying to find a more comfortable position. Moving any single muscle felt like an excruciating punishment, like there wasn't a single drop of energy in his body to let him function.

He hadn't gotten sick in so long he forgot what it felt like. 

And he just wanted to do nothing. Absolutely nothing. He didn't want to hear anything. His head felt strangely heavy. He wanted to lie down, but not here. He wanted to lie down on his bed, in his bedroom. His safe little corner. 

So he stood up, rubbing his eyes as he dragged his feet towards his bedroom. His parents were arguing right in front of the door.

“Move,” Nicholas said. 

His parents didn't even notice him. 

“Please get out of the way.” Nicholas coughed, and his lungs ripped apart. “Let me go into my room. I'm tired.” 

They continued fighting. 

Nicholas felt like his knees were going to buckle. 

“—leave again?” his dad was yelling with that loud, annoying voice of his. “You're gonna leave me again, aren't you? Don't lie then.” He'd backed Nicholas's mom up against the wall again. A familiar, daily scene. “Don't tell me you love me. You don't. If you loved me, you wouldn't have left me the first time. I love you, I'd never leave you. But you, you're such a bitch.” 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to,” Nicholas's mom said. Same words, everyday. “I'll never leave you again. I didn't know what I was thinking.” 

This happened years ago. And he still brought it up every single time. 

“Mom, Dad,” Nicholas tried again. “I wanna sleep. Please stop fighting for a second.” He grabbed his dad's arm, yanking him aside. “Please just move.” 

Nicholas's dad shoved Nicholas away mindlessly, then continued yelling. 

Nicholas gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath, then said, “Shut the fuck up. Would you?” 

And now everything stopped.

All shouting ceased.

The older man turned to Nicholas, all stiff and tense and brimming with rage. 

Of course insulting him was the only way to grab his attention. 

“What did you say, Nicholas?” 

“Nothing!” Nicholas's mom said after giving Nicholas a warning look. “He was talking to me! He's telling me to shut up!” 

“No,” Nicholas said, keeping his eyes on his dad. “I'm talking to you, dad. Shut the fuck up. Do you wanna hear it one more time? Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Your voice is the most annoying thing in this entire universe. I don't want to hear it.” 

Silence. Just silence. 

“Move,” Nicholas said. 

“This is the animal you raised,” Nicholas's dad told his wife. “That little shit right there is all your fault.” He grasped a fistful of her black hair and tilted her head up, glaring down at her with the wrath of the entire world combined. “You teach him this shit. You teach him to hate me. He's turning out exactly like you.” 

Something snapped inside of Nicholas. 

“No,” Nicholas said. “You teach me to hate you. Get your hands off her.” He took a step forward, grasped his dad's wrist firmly, and forced it off his mom's hair. His dad regarded him warily, like he was surprised Nicholas wasn't a kid anymore. Surprised his son had a little hint of violence in him, too. “You're the problem here. Do you understand? You're the reason we're all miserable. You're the source of all our problems.” 

“Nicholas!” his mom shouted. “Shut up! Please! You're the problem! We're fine!” 

“No, we're not fine!” Nicholas told his mom. Each word tore his throat apart. “Why's it so hard for you to understand that all he's doing is manipulating you? It's obvious! People like him never change! Never! You shouldn't have moved back in with him!” He turned to his dad, fuming, every nerve in him fired up. “You, you stupid monster. There's nothing I hate more than being your son. I hate that I have to see you everyday.” He pushed his dad's chest, making him step back. “I swear to God I wouldn't care if you died!” 

Nicholas thought his dad was going to attack him now, so he tensed, preparing to fight back. 

But his dad only stared, feigning composure. “Calm down.” 

Nicholas blinked. “Calm down?” 

“Yeah,” his dad said, his voice unnervingly levelled. He reached for Nicholas's shoulder. “Take deep breaths.” 

Nicholas jerked away from him. “Fuck off.” 

What was going on? 

Why wasn't he getting angry? 

Nicholas's dad looked at Nicholas with those taunting brown eyes. Eyes of a manipulator. “It's okay, Nicholas. Just calm down first.”

“Stop telling me to calm down,” Nicholas said, every muscle in him taut. “You started this.”

“No. You just need therapy.” 

Nicholas's eyes widened. “Me? I need therapy?” 

“Yeah. Didn't you hear yourself? You'll be happy if I die? That's so sick, son,” his dad said. Tutting, he shook his head. “No one says that unless they're mentally ill. But don't worry. If you can't afford it, I'll pay for your therapy. Just like I'm paying the bills and paying for your food and clothes and everything. Okay? Because I'm a good father and I love my son, even if he doesn't love me back.” He let out a woeful sigh. “You know, there are kids that wish they had a dad like me.” 

“See, Nicholas,” Nicholas's mom said. “Stop being so disrespectful. He loves you. And I love you too. You really just need to calm down. Everything is fine. So what if we argue a little here and there? It happens. You're overreacting.” 

Nicholas looked between his parents, dumbfounded. 

Completely, utterly dumbfounded. 

How did they manage to agree that he was the bad person here? 

How was this conclusion even possible? 

“I… I just can't,” Nicholas said. “I don't need therapy. You two need it. You, not me.” 

His dad had moved away from his mom, so really, Nicholas's job was done here. He didn't need to stay around and listen to them make him out to be the villain here. All that mattered was that his mom was safe at the moment.

So he turned away, more exhausted than he was before interfering. Then he opened the door to his bedroom, and his mouth fell open. 

And it had been entirely rearranged. 

Again. 

For the hundredth time.

Nicholas set his jaw. All of his composure shattered. He thrust the door inwards. It crashed against the wall. He threw his hands in the air. 

“Fucking hell!” he shouted. “Stop rearranging my fucking room!” He spun around, setting his livid gaze on his mom. “Just stop it! Stop! Stop! Stop! How many times do I have to tell you I hate it when you rearrange my stuff? How many times!” 

This was the hundredth time his mom had changed his room around and he'd had to change things back the way he liked. 

What did she even get out of constantly doing this? 

What was the point?

“Okay, fine,” she said. “Seriously, calm down.” She didn't sound taunting like his dad. She sounded sheepish, like the words tasted bitter in her mouth. Like they weren't hers. “I won't change anything again. No need to shout like that…”

But I never shouted before! Nicholas wanted to scream. I always calmly told you that I don't like it when you do that, and you kept doing it. 

How do you expect me to not get angry at this point? 

Nicholas slammed the door shut and locked it. Then he trudged to his bed. He sat on the edge, hunched over, his head in his hands. His knees hurt where his elbows pressed into them.

His headache intensified, ten times worse than it had already been — painful enough to mess with Nicholas's sanity. The exhaustion sank deep into every crevice in his body. He coughed into his arm, feeling like his lungs were shriveling. Frowning at the pain, he sprawled down on his back, then rolled onto his side. 

Everything hurt, but at least his parents stopped shouting. 

He chuckled softly at the thought. His chest ached with his laughter, so he stopped immediately, but a small, tired smile hung to his lips. He closed his eyes. 

At least the silence was peaceful. 

• • •

This chapter should help you understand Nicholas's reaction during his argument with Valentino in ch.9 of Lies and Damnation a little more!! 

Also this chapter is meant to loosely parallel Albert's chapter (ch.6)! Unlike Albert, unfortunately nicholas is starting to realize that his anger is needed to protect himself and his mom (even if it's causing other problems like his parents teaming up against him lol)

Thank you for reading/voting/commenting! It means the world to me! Hope you're enjoying the prequel as much as I'm enjoying writing it <3