Chapter 3
THREE
Staring into the mirror I find my reflection doesn’t match who I used to be. The fading bruise under my left eye reminds me that I’m no longer that girl. She died a few weeks ago, at the hands of a man I thought I was going to marry.
I may only be twenty-two, but my whole life has been planned out for years.
Since meeting Charles in my sophomore year of high school, all our families could talk about was us getting married one day.
They didn’t care that we were only kids.
Our families had a goal in mind and were more than willing to let us be the path to get it.
My parents didn’t pick him out for me. It’s not like they forced him on me.
I could’ve ended up with any of the sons of their chosen families.
But when Charles showed interest in me, they were thrilled, and I just went with it.
I’d do anything to make them happy. Anything to keep the focus off Cameron and tensions low.
The Davenports are one of the more well-off families.
They have old money, and for whatever reason decided my family and our newer money was worth their time.
Our families spent a lot of time together.
Even before Charles expressed interest in me.
My father was always golfing with his. Our mothers had brunch together a few times a month.
They liked us and my family loved that fact.
It may not have been as arranged as marriages were back in the medieval times, but I still felt like I was a cow being sold to the highest bidder. And Charles’ family was about as high of a bidder as I could land.
So, I entered a relationship with him. It wasn’t bad. Not at first. He was charming. Bought me gifts, took me out on dates. I was arm candy to him. A prize possession that he loved to show off at the club houses our families went to.
The sex wasn’t bad. In the beginning it was even a little wild. But I knew he was getting bored. We were young and stuck together due to family obligations. I tried to spice things up, but he didn’t like any of the same things as I did. He wanted his dick sucked and my pussy to fuck.
He was boring in other ways too. Couldn’t hold a conversation if it wasn’t about sports, drinking, or being mean. He only passed classes because he paid someone to do his assignments.
Charles was a piece of trash that I was unfortunate enough to get stuck with, but I let myself pretend it was what I wanted. Went to the same college as him. Let everyone think we were a happy couple, while ignoring my own unhappiness.
I accepted my fate a long time ago. I didn’t get to have passions or goals.
I was just supposed to be a dotting girlfriend, supporting him however he needed, until we got married.
Then I’d get to become one of those wives who never had to cook or clean.
That hosted functions for charities and never got mad about anything.
As I carefully apply cover up over one of the remaining bruises, I’m reminded that I broke that last rule.
I let myself get mad. After finding out he cheated on me, I chewed him out.
Called him every name I could think of. I always knew he would do it.
The men in the society I was born in don’t stay faithful.
They are normally more discreet about it.
I could’ve handled being cheated on but having everyone know it was happening stung.
All while I was expected to stay loyal to him and his subpar bedroom skills. It wasn’t fair.
So, I got angry. Then he got angrier. And well, now I’m covering up bruises with makeup and turtlenecks in a shared bathroom at my brother’s apartment.
The pain he inflicted was horrible. I’m lucky to not have any scars from the way he busted my cheek open.
The doctor my parents sent me to was very skilled.
He made sure I wouldn’t have any lasting marks.
Couldn’t do much about the bruises or cracked ribs, other than give me advice on how to help them heal.
As I study myself over in the mirror, I feel broken.
My short brown hair hangs to my shoulders.
Light blue eyes full of fury and sadness.
Makeup only does so much to hide the fact I took a beating.
Dressed in a gray turtleneck and a dark beige skirt.
Most of my fair skin covered up to hide the evidence of his damage and my low iron, it’s hard to pretend that isn’t true.
I force myself to remember that it won’t last.
No. I’ll never be the girl I was before. She was weak, na?ve, and pathetic.
Ben’s voice from last night replays in my head. He may be a famous guitarist in a huge band, but most of what he said was untrue. I have never been stuck up or a bitch. I can’t help but wonder if it would’ve saved me a world of hurt if I had been.
Is it too late for me to become the girl he tried to paint me as? Could I be a bitch? Learn how to manipulate guys? Start to use them for a change. Have the upper hand for once in my life. Be something more than a pawn for them to use?
The idea is appealing.
“Come on, Prue.” Cameron’s voice from the other side of the door makes me jump. “I knew you were going to hog the bathroom.”
Cameron’s voice reminds me I’m not completely alone.
Gathering my stuff, I head out of the bathroom.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He smiles, but there is that look in his eyes he has had since he picked me up from the hospital that day. Guilt, concern, and pity. “Have a good day at school, sis.”
“Thanks.”
We are twins. He was born first, but I always felt like that was a mistake. I am more of an older sister than he has ever been an older brother to me. I guess five minutes isn’t that much older, but still, I’ve been taking care of him for as long as I can remember.
He is the wild child. Obsessed with everything that our parents despised. Tattoos, rock music, partying, and rebelling. From the day he came across rock music on the TV, he was hooked.
Taught himself how to play guitar by age 10 and has never stopped since.
He poured his heart and soul into the music.
In some ways I’m jealous of him. He has passion, something I’ve never had.
I wish I had an ounce of it to put into a hobby or interest, but all I ever craved was praise and pleasing people.
So, I took on the role of being the well-behaved daughter. Every time my parents zeroed in on Cameron, trying to reign him in, I stepped in to show them they didn’t need to try to hinder him. They had me to parade around. I would do my job and his. Make the family look good.
It took a few years, but eventually they gave up on him completely. Put all their efforts into making sure I played my part right. Getting with Charles only helped take the spotlight off Cameron.
I give Cameron the freedom and support our parents couldn’t and he gives me a purpose.
It is an unspoken agreement between us. We never talked it out, never mention it now.
I know he knows what I’ve done for him. He is grateful for it.
I see it every time he lands a spot on a tour for some bigger band.
Every time he tells me about an interview with a record label. I see the thankfulness in his eyes.
Now I’m the grateful one.
When I ended up in the hospital after Charles’ assault, Cameron was the first person I called. I knew I could count on him to not judge, not question and offer me somewhere to hide.
His two-bedroom apartment isn’t the kind of place our parents would approve of, but he is rather proud of it.
It’s in the area around the college I go to, simply because it’s cheap and it kept us close.
He was able to get it at eighteen, moving out on graduation day.
While our parents were watching me walk across the stage, unaware he had dropped out a few weeks prior, he packed up and left.
For the most part he pays for it on his own. Works two jobs and plays shows at local venues whenever he can. I help too. Slipping him some money when he has to quit his day jobs to go on tour. I treat him to dinners and buy him presents, like his dream car.
When our parents disowned him, they did it with grace.
Cut him off for the most part, which was fine by him.
He didn’t want to live on their dime longer than he had to.
They don’t acknowledge him to their friends, but he gets invited to private family events.
He rarely shows, but occasionally I ask him to come, and he does.
They barely talk to or about him, and whenever I bring him up, they only pretend to hear what I have to say.
It probably hurts me more than him. He is important to me. I envy his freedom and confidence. Getting to see him make something of his life is rewarding to me. Watching him throw himself into his dream is the greatest thing in the world.
If I don’t get to have control of my life at least knowing he does gets me through the day.
I can give up everything just for him to have a chance to make his dreams come true.
Though all that changed the minute Charles hurt me. Now I’m hiding out here, far away from my parents. Slowly becoming just as disgraced as he is.
He doesn’t seem bothered by it, though. He encourages me to embrace the freedom, but I know it doesn’t last.
Our parents keep begging me to return home. They didn’t mind Charles and me taking some time apart, but I know they expect us to reconcile.
Cameron is fully against that. Telling me to stay a few more days every time I even bring it up. Bringing me along to all his parties and shows.
The guilt is hidden in his eyes, a carbon copy of mine. He escaped first, leaving me to my own devices, which led to my own demise. Now he feels like he has the chance to save me.
And maybe he is right. Maybe it is time I become someone new. Leave the old me behind.
Become the bitch Ben Parker claimed I was.