The Bullet List (The Saving Bailey Trilogy, #1) by Nikki Roman Page A
Authors: Nikki Roman
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“Oh sweetie, I thought you were gone. I almost called the police, but I could never bring myself to admit that I didn’t even remember you leaving the apartment. I was so out of it .”
“What do you remember?” I ask, a sob rising in my chest.
“Now, don’t you cry too . I’m not sure. I had nightmares. I kept dreaming about you being hit by Saint, and I was laughing, couldn’t stop laughing.” She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But he didn’t hit you did he? Your face is untouched.”
“I pulled a knife on him and made him leave. He only threatened me, Mom,” I say.
“I’m so sorry. I have made you be so grown up, taking care of me all the time. And the choices I make put us both in grave danger, I could get you killed. If that happened, I couldn’t live with myself, I love you so much,” Mom says reverently.
“I’m too strong,” I say, remembering Trenton’s words. “I’m so strong nothing is going to bring me down, especially no druggie with a temper. My dad killed a man, and I’m not the least bit afraid to do the same, if it comes down to it.”
“I hate to hear you talk like that. Those words are so unnatural coming from my little girl. You are only a little girl, why should you think that you could be like a man, and fight anyone?” she asks.
“If I didn’t think that where would we be? What would Saint have done? Someone needs to be the man of the house.”
“I just wish it wasn’t my baby,” she says, kissing my cheek. “You are soaked. Where have you been?”
“The beach,” I say.
“Overnight? You always were a strange one. Let’s go inside and you can take a shower,” Mom says.
The apartment is warm and clean. The dirty dishes have all but vanished from the sink, and the coffee table is flipped up against the wall.
“I kept seeing you fall over it. I couldn’t take it anymore so I moved it,” Mom says, biting on her nails.
I nod; the Mothers Day cup is clean and on the shelf where it belongs.
“Go take a shower, and I’ll make you something to eat,” Mom says.
Once in the shower, the water and suds wash away the bonfire smoke and sand from my hair. The scratch marks left behind by Nessa are still pronounced against my creamy skin. Clad comes to mind, for no apparent reason. His words, and embrace, from the day before returning. My feeling of utter despair washes down the drain with the sand and salt.
I had spent all night with Trenton, even made out with him, and all I can think about is the comfort of Clad’s arms. Sure, kissing Trenton was the highlight of my day, but the way Clad was able to break down my defenses, and comfort me resonates more deeply . Just a friend thing or more?
Bacon and eggs are sizzling on the stove and the smell wafts into the bathroom. I am famished.
I towel-dry my hair, and step out of the bathroom in search of some decent clothes to wear. Mom has laid out a long-sleeve teal-colored shirt spotted with white flowers, and a pair of new jeans. I pull them on. I take a look in the mirror: my eyes are still bloodshot, but my skin is glowing, the bruise on my face almost unnoticeable. My lips are stained red from my convenience-store lipstick. My hair is scrunched in stiff curls from the ocean water. The shirt makes me look elegant, I haven’t dressed like this since middle school, but it gives me a feeling of self-worth all the same.
“Come eat!” Mom hollers happily from the kitchen. I plop in a chair and shovel the hot eggs and bacon into my mouth. Mom is famished as well, but she takes smaller bites, her appetite still waning from being scared sick and hung-over.
“I’m not going to again. I promise. Never, ever again . No, more bringing home drunk men, no more drinking, no more drugs. I’m going to go to work every day and make money to take care of you. You are all I need,” she says, placing her fork neatly on a napkin.
“You can do it, Mommy, I know you can. I’m strong because of you,” I say
“Oh sweetie, I thought you were gone. I almost called the police, but I could never bring myself to admit that I didn’t even remember you leaving the apartment. I was so out of it .”
“What do you remember?” I ask, a sob rising in my chest.
“Now, don’t you cry too . I’m not sure. I had nightmares. I kept dreaming about you being hit by Saint, and I was laughing, couldn’t stop laughing.” She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But he didn’t hit you did he? Your face is untouched.”
“I pulled a knife on him and made him leave. He only threatened me, Mom,” I say.
“I’m so sorry. I have made you be so grown up, taking care of me all the time. And the choices I make put us both in grave danger, I could get you killed. If that happened, I couldn’t live with myself, I love you so much,” Mom says reverently.
“I’m too strong,” I say, remembering Trenton’s words. “I’m so strong nothing is going to bring me down, especially no druggie with a temper. My dad killed a man, and I’m not the least bit afraid to do the same, if it comes down to it.”
“I hate to hear you talk like that. Those words are so unnatural coming from my little girl. You are only a little girl, why should you think that you could be like a man, and fight anyone?” she asks.
“If I didn’t think that where would we be? What would Saint have done? Someone needs to be the man of the house.”
“I just wish it wasn’t my baby,” she says, kissing my cheek. “You are soaked. Where have you been?”
“The beach,” I say.
“Overnight? You always were a strange one. Let’s go inside and you can take a shower,” Mom says.
The apartment is warm and clean. The dirty dishes have all but vanished from the sink, and the coffee table is flipped up against the wall.
“I kept seeing you fall over it. I couldn’t take it anymore so I moved it,” Mom says, biting on her nails.
I nod; the Mothers Day cup is clean and on the shelf where it belongs.
“Go take a shower, and I’ll make you something to eat,” Mom says.
Once in the shower, the water and suds wash away the bonfire smoke and sand from my hair. The scratch marks left behind by Nessa are still pronounced against my creamy skin. Clad comes to mind, for no apparent reason. His words, and embrace, from the day before returning. My feeling of utter despair washes down the drain with the sand and salt.
I had spent all night with Trenton, even made out with him, and all I can think about is the comfort of Clad’s arms. Sure, kissing Trenton was the highlight of my day, but the way Clad was able to break down my defenses, and comfort me resonates more deeply . Just a friend thing or more?
Bacon and eggs are sizzling on the stove and the smell wafts into the bathroom. I am famished.
I towel-dry my hair, and step out of the bathroom in search of some decent clothes to wear. Mom has laid out a long-sleeve teal-colored shirt spotted with white flowers, and a pair of new jeans. I pull them on. I take a look in the mirror: my eyes are still bloodshot, but my skin is glowing, the bruise on my face almost unnoticeable. My lips are stained red from my convenience-store lipstick. My hair is scrunched in stiff curls from the ocean water. The shirt makes me look elegant, I haven’t dressed like this since middle school, but it gives me a feeling of self-worth all the same.
“Come eat!” Mom hollers happily from the kitchen. I plop in a chair and shovel the hot eggs and bacon into my mouth. Mom is famished as well, but she takes smaller bites, her appetite still waning from being scared sick and hung-over.
“I’m not going to again. I promise. Never, ever again . No, more bringing home drunk men, no more drinking, no more drugs. I’m going to go to work every day and make money to take care of you. You are all I need,” she says, placing her fork neatly on a napkin.
“You can do it, Mommy, I know you can. I’m strong because of you,” I say
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