The Price of Love

Prologue

'July 1997

            I finally found my missing journal after a year of searching. And to think, it's been buried under all this junk on the closet floor. Life is going good to say the least. Damien, my valiant firstborn, is such a delight to have around the house. I have been sick a lot more lately, but I think that's due to my second pregnancy taking a toll on my body. My prince, Malik, was born last week at 10:25am weighing 8 lbs. 6oz... I worry sometimes because Malik is such a quiet baby, and barely cries. In the middle of the night, I have to frequently check on him just to make sure he's still breathing.

            Getting out of bed is a challenge, but Damien does his best to clean up so I can catch a break. At only 11 years old, he's already stepping up to be the man of the house. I don't want that for him. God knows he deserves to be a child, but I'm just so tired. I don't think the fatigue and aches I feel is from breastfeeding. I hear that a lot from friends and doctors. They swear up and down that I have clogged ducts, but I ain't buying it. This feels different, like rocks in a sack, and I'm scared.'

            Naomi closed her childhood diary, and feathered her fingertips over the faded, pink cover that once held the most vibrant hue of red. The smooth yet thick leather cracked under pressure from years of wear and tear. It's once perfect shape, now showed its' age like the rings of a tree trunk. The original white sheets of paper were stained brown, crinkled, and delicate from neglect.

She sat on the floor of her closet in her three-bedroom house in complete silence. Malik laid in his bassinette for his mid-day nap, while Damien was off at school. Today, Naomi found the strength to waltz out of bed and tidy up a bit. She made it to the closet before her legs crumbled under the weight of her upper body, where she found her old diary. Still clutching the red diary close to her chest, Naomi silently wept under her breath. Each cry rattled through her as she quaked under the pressure of life.

Had this really become her reality? Maybe she should have listened all those years ago.

            The front door to the home opened in the distance, snapping Naomi from her private soapbox. Without a second thought, her hands instinctively swiped away the loss tears that crawled down her warm cheeks. An innate behavior she'd become accustomed to since she met him. The mismatched thuds of Timberlands on the hardwood floor grew louder in the empty hallway until they abruptly stopped at the threshold of her bedroom door.

            "You cryin' Nae?" his smooth baritone voice called out to her; a voice that now felt like burning poison to her ears. A cold voice coated in forced sympathy that she had learned to pick up on over time. Their love was stripped of its' purity and tossed into a river of deception. After a few moments of silence in the desolate room, Naomi simply shook her head, before brushing a few strands of loose hair from her face. Her eyes stayed fixated on the book in her lap to avoid Eric's condemning gaze.

            "No, just something caught in my eye." She managed to croak out despite her tightening esophagus whilst fighting back tears.

            "Let me see." Eric pleaded as he stepped towards her. The sound of her heartbeat thrashed around in her ears, and a thin layer of perspiration coated her cocoa skin. Naomi raised her trembling hand to block Eric from coming closer. He froze on cue and relaxed his outstretched hands by his side.

            "No, I'm fine." Naomi assured. The warm carpet underneath wrapped around her in a delicate embrace. Eric stood taut in front of her small frame before he released an exasperated sigh. His eyes surveyed the room until they rested on the sleeping infant in the bassinet next to a bed he once knew so well.

            Eric stepped further into the bedroom, his eyes trained on the bassinet as he spoke, "You need to rest, I can watch Malik fo—"

            "—No! Leave him alone!" Naomi snapped, fumbling to the ground when her shaky legs lost footing as she tried to stand. Eric shook his head at her frail and pitiful body at his feet. No matter how much he knew Naomi needed help; needed to see a doctor of some sort, her stubbornness wouldn't allow him to be there for her.