“Yeah.” I nod. “Good seeing you. When we get back to touring, I’ll hit Oscar and you up. Maybe we could bring you guys back out with us.”
“Dude, that would be awesome.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Prue mumbles, rolling her eyes again.
“Did someone have too much to drink?” Cameron asks with a chuckle.
“No.” She sighs, looking over at me. “Clearly not enough.”
“Goodnight,” I say, shooting her one last smirk.
Part of me is glad she didn’t give me her number. No matter how bored I’ve been, I don’t need to invite trouble into my life. Wes would be proud of me for not getting her number. He’d be disappointed in all the other crap I said, but hey, he knows how big of an asshole I am.
Still, another part of me is disappointed I may never see Prue again. She was hot and even sexier when she was glaring at me like I was the worse person she ever met.
Perhaps if Haunting Memories ever goes back on tour, I’d drag her brother along and get the chance to fuck her. Hopefully when there are no bruises on her face and far less drama in her life.
THREE
Staringinto 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 andour 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, naïve, 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 usethem 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.
