Chapter 14 #2
The minute the words leave my mouth I know I fucked up. I may have seen her in a vulnerable state, but implying she is weak is going to cost me.
“I can take care of myself,” she snaps. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“Need, no, but you did call me.” I shrug. I’m not good at not saying the wrong thing. I learned that years ago, so I don’t even bother trying once I fuck up. Failure can never be righted, so I always choose to fail some more.
“My apologies,” she snaps. “I’ll never call you again. Ever.” She tries to pull away from me, but I reach out, grabbing her wrist.
“Oh Prue,” I say, pulling her closer to me.
“You keep saying that and yet we keep ending up together.” I let my other hand graze her cheek.
“I think you secretly like me.” My thumb traces over her lip.
Something about the way she gets angry makes me feel things.
“And you know what, I may even like you too.”
If my words hold any meaning to her, she doesn’t show it. It feels like a gut punch. Maybe she did only reach out to me because she was desperate.
Shoving at me, she tries to break free of my hold. Unfortunately letting her go is not an option. I made a promise to take care of her tonight. I don’t care how mad she gets or what she says to me, I’m not breaking that promise.
“You don’t get to be my knight in shining armor.
You’re the furthest thing from a hero. I bet in everyone else’s story you are the villain, or worse the victim.
” She hurls insults pretty well. “I bet whatever abuse you suffered isn’t even that bad, but you use it as an excuse for your shitty behavior.
I’m not surprised your band doesn’t want to play with you anymore. You’re so mean.”
I keep my face neutral as she hurls her insults. My first action with anyone else would be to attack back, but that’s not what she needs. Prue needs someone to take her beating, and I’m happy to be that person for her right now.
“I’m mean?” I ask, as our car pulls up. “I want you to really think about who’s being mean right now.
” I pull her with me toward the car. I grip her hand tight, as she slides into the back of the car.
I’m worried if I let go, she will bolt. I don’t trust her not to do something stupid right now.
“Unfortunately for you, I made a promise and I keep my fucking promises. So, for the sake of both of our sanities, don’t say another fucking thing until we are back at Cameron’s, okay? ”
She looks away, fixing her gaze on the window as the car pulls off. I relax my grip slightly.
Her words sting as they bounce around my head. I’ve said them to myself enough to not completely fall apart when hearing them, but they still aren’t great to hear.
My desire to keep her from falling apart outweighs my need to self-destruct. Probably the first and only time that will ever be the case. I promised not to ditch her, so I’m staying put. Though the idea of letting myself spiral into my own dark memories sounds very tempting right now.
I try to focus on my surroundings, grounding myself in the present before I can slip into the well of memories that continuously try to kill me. There is no need to go there at this moment. I can’t deal with my spiral and hers.
Prue’s pulse races where my fingertips wrap around her wrist. Each breath of hers comes out heavy, almost like a huff. The way her body vibrates lets me know she is trying not to cry.
I wish I could think of something to say to help her, but I’m lost in my own mind. Trying to avoid stepping on a land mind that will bring both of us down.
The music playing in the car is some overplayed pop song that I don’t hate but would rather never hear again simply because of how much it’s been overplayed.
The heater is on because the temperature outside is under 60 and to people in LA that’s freezing, but the heat isn’t helping my body relax. I crack the window for a moment, hoping the cold air will settle my thoughts.
I’m not that person anymore. I’m not weak. I’m not pathetic. And I am not a victim. She can’t hurt me anymore. I am completely safe.
I am safe. I let myself repeat that in my head a few times. Over and over, like a mantra.
Prue shifts beside me, moving closer to me, but I can’t look at her right now.
I’m never vulnerable. Not with anyone. Maybe Wes has seen me with my guard down, but never like Prue has. Never how I feel right now. And Prue has proven why I don’t let people see me like this.
She threw all my secrets in my face. I can’t blame her for it. I haven’t exactly been nice, and she is kind of going through it, but the lesson remains.
Don’t open up to anyone. Ever.
“Ben?” she asks softly.
When I finally glance over at her, she is peering at me with concern written on her face.
“What?”
“You’re clawing at your neck.”
The moment she points it out, I feel it. My nails cutting into the side of my neck. The sting that’s sure to leave red marks behind, hits.
It’s a habit I developed as a child. When I got nervous, or the memories floated to the surface. Or whenever she came around, stalking me like I was prey, I’d start clawing at my skin to relieve some of the tension from my body.
My hand drops to my lap.
“You’re bleeding a little.” She points to my neck.
“So what?” I shrug. “Or more so, why the fuck do you care?” I raise my eyebrow at her.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t know why I keep snapping at you. I’m sorry.” Her eyes drop to her feet.
I dab at my neck, wiping away the small drops of blood on my pants.
“You’re hurting,” I finally say, watching her eyes dart up to me.
I let my fingers rub circles on her wrist. “You’re trying to mask it under this idea you’re strong and capable of anything, but you are hurting, Prue.
And I’ve been there. I get it. I’m the safest person you can lash out at right now, so I’ll take it, but Jesus.
” I sigh. “You know exactly what to say to fuck me up.”
“Oh God.” She gasps, burying her face in her free hand. She sobs and I just let her, stroking her wrists softly. “He ruined me.”
“No. He didn’t ruin you. He killed a version of you, but now you have the freedom to become someone new.
” She glances over at me, tears pouring down her face as she processes my words.
“You don’t have to be who everyone else wants you to be, Prue.
You can get tattoos, get drunk, and have fun.
Find a passion or three. Have wild, kinky sex, preferably once or twice with me, or become a nun if you want.
You spent too long being good so your brother didn’t get any heat, but now, guess what, you have a chance to be whoever you want to be. ”
“He raped me.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “He beat me then he held me down and raped me.”
“Oh.” Is all I can say, as I’m suddenly reminded that the version of me that exists today is the outcome of what happened after years of someone raping me.
I wanted better for her.