Chapter 9 #2
Cameron can read me like an open book. I remember when I called him to pick me up from the hospital, I barely had to tell him anything. He knew from the sound of my voice that something was wrong. His first question was what hospital.
It’s probably a twin thing, but regardless, it is what it is. Even if he doesn’t seek out revenge for me, he’d protect me in a heartbeat. If I told him what was going on he would rush back, probably not in time, but he would try.
“I’m fine. Just thought we could have dinner or something. Go have fun. Play great.”
“Okay,” he says. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Go rock your ass off.”
“If you need anything just call. I’ll be back Sunday.”
“See you then.” Only I worry I won’t be here when he gets home.
I pace the house as tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I don’t want to be this girl. I can’t be the weak girl who goes back to the man who beat her. Though I fear if I don’t things will end up worse. That thought claws at my chest, slicing open my heart.
People really expect me to just take him back. My own parents even.
Sighing, I unlock my phone, scrolling through my contacts. So many names, but no one I trust to not hand my location to Charles just to get on his good side.
Pausing, I stare at the only person I know who isn’t scared of my ex. Who just a few days stood up to him even. My one last chance, but I doubt he wants to hear from me after my freak out at his apartment this morning.
It’s the only chance I have, though.
So I click on ‘not so tiny dickhead’ and type a single word text message. If he replies to it, I know not all hope is lost. If he doesn’t, I’ll accept my fate.
Me
Hey.
I crouch on the floor of the living room, gripping my phone tightly in my hand. From where I am, I can see the time on the microwave.
Time seems to slow down as I stare at the green glowing numbers. Slowly it changes six times. With each new number my chest tightens. Am I really going to let my fate be in the hands of an asshole who could find countless girls to entertain him?
Still, last night he called me. He wanted me.
Another three minutes pass before my phone buzzes in my hand.
The screen flashes with an incoming call from ‘not so tiny dickhead.’
I pause. I told him to never contact me again just a few hours ago, and one text has him calling me. Given the circumstances, I shouldn’t be fighting back a smile, but I am. It’s nice to know my outburst didn’t entirely turn him off.
I answer it, unsure what to say though, I don’t speak for a moment.
“Hello? Prue?”
“What are you doing tonight?” I blurt out.
He laughs on the other side of the phone. “You are fucking crazy.”
“You are so mean,” I groan.
“Yes, and yet you messaged me.”
“You called me last night,” I counter. This was a terrible idea. He is so frustrating.
“I was drunk. What’s your excuse?”
“I can’t stay in this apartment,” I say softly.
“Your brother annoying you or something?”
“No. He is out of town.”
“Are you scared of being alone?” he asks, genuine concern laces his voice, for the second time in less than 24 hours.
The thought of how pathetic I must seem to him makes my stomach tense for a moment.
“Are you okay?” he asks after a moment. The layer of concern in his voice doubles, making my throat tighten. He doesn’t really care, does he?
“No,” I snap. “Just… never mind. Forget I called.”
“Prue. Wait. Just tell me what’s going on, okay? I know I’m an asshole, but if you need something…” His voice trails off like he doesn’t know how to finish that statement.
“My ex asked me to go to this thing with him tonight. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Now he is coming here at 7 to pick me up. I can’t be here when he shows up and Cameron is out of town. If I’m home, I don’t think things will end well for…”
“Text me your address. I’ll pick you up, but there are conditions.”
“Conditions?” Leave it to Ben to save me on his terms.
“You have to go out with me.”
“Out? Like a date.”
“It will look like a date,” he says. “Put on your best turtleneck and a cute little skirt. We are going to grab some food and drinks while we make all kinds of headlines.”
“He won’t like that.”
“Prue, do you think I give two shits what he likes?”
“No. But…”
“And I know you don’t think very highly of me, but do you think for one second I’d let him hurt you?”
“After you’re gone…”
“Never,” he says plainly. “If I grow bored of you and think he is still a threat to your safety I will end him.”
I don’t exactly know how Ben plans on ending him, but the idea stirs more emotions in me than I expect. He sounds willing to do more to protect me than my own parents. That hurts, but fills me with an excitement I can’t explain.
“Okay.”
“See you soon, Prue,” he says, hanging up.
After texting Ben Cameron’s address, I quickly strip off my clothes.
Using the full-length mirror on the closet, I examine my body.
The tiniest bruise sits on my collarbone, matching the one under my eye.
It’s barely noticeable but still makes me feel uneasy.
Sighing, I pull a black turtleneck over my head, hoping soon there will be nothing left to cover up.
I slip on a short plaid skirt, adding black boots to the outfit. I almost look like the kind of girl who would go out with a guy like Ben. I rush to the bathroom to throw on some make up. Light cover up, a Smokey layer of eyeshadow, and a red lip gloss complete the look.
Running my hands through my light brown hair, I tussle it so the layers stand out a little. I’m not as edgy as most the girls Ben has been with, but tonight I at least look less prim and proper. Maybe no one will even be able to tell who I am if the paparazzi does get pictures of us.
I grab a black cross body purse packing it with my wallet and lip gloss for touch ups, then I check my phone.
The anxiety grows with each passing moment, as the time gets closer to six now. I know Charles said he would be here at 7, but my gut tells me he’d show up early just to make sure I’m wearing something he approves of.
I pace the living room, doing circles around the couch and coffee table, willing LA traffic not to keep Ben from getting here soon.
At 6:30 my phone buzzes. Glancing at it makes my stomach sink.
Charles
Wear that tight little blue dress you wore to the Christmas party my parents threw.
I don’t bother replying, just stare at the clock again. Hoping Ben gets here before Charles does.
Five minutes pass before Ben calls me.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hello. Would you like me to come up and get you?” he asks on the other side of the phone. The faintest sound of music fills up the background.
“No. I’ll be right down.”
“Sounds good.”
Sighing, I take a deep breath before walking to the door, feeling like I just escaped a fate worse than death. I swing open the door just for my heart to sink.