But Talon?
His look of disappointment when I wouldn’t agree to go with him tonight was almost enough to kill me. How much worse would it be when he looked at me with disgust at finding out how I’ve been surviving? Or with resentment when he feels like I’m using him?
Derek is as shitty a person as I feel I am most days, so at least we’re evenly matched.
When we finally make it home, nausea threatens to have me on my knees in the bathroom, but I know that would only piss Derek off more.
I’m slow getting out of the truck, one hand gripping my side as I stumble toward the apartment, and by the time I make it inside, he’s waiting for me in the kitchen, his dick back in his hand.
“I’m going to remind you who you belong to, Buttercup, and it won’t be gentle. But feel free to bleed onthisfloor. Do keep it down, though. I’d hate to disturb the neighbors.”
The beating he gave me on stage took the fight out of me, and I sink to the floor. I don’t have the energy to run, and my car is still in the lot behind the theater.
He asks me something, but my ears are ringing, and I can’t make out the words enough to give him an answer. My silence results in another kick high on the left side of my torso.
Thankfully, I lose consciousness sometime before he fucks me, though I’m sure that won’t stop him from taking what he wants.
I wakeup the next day, still on the kitchen floor, and everything hurts.
Everything.
Looking down, I quickly realize I’m naked, and there is indeed blood smeared across the floor.
I’m afraid to move, knowing it’ll be agony, but I have to get out of here.
I search for my phone, despair consuming me when I come up empty.
My car…my car is still at the theater.Dammit.
Gray skies outside are allowing filtered light in through the kitchen window, so it must be daytime, but beyond that, I’m clueless as to what time it is.
Army crawling across the floor, I drag myself into the bathroom, just barely managing to make it to the toilet before throwing up at the sight of myself. Purple splotches so dark they’re almost black coat my torso. Broken capillaries under my skin have painted me blue in several spots as well. My face is ghostly pale, my eyes are bloodshot, my skin is sticky, and I can’t stop shivering.
I’m afraid to step into the shower for fear of more pain, but I need to clean the dried blood, and what I assume is cum, off my thighs and wherever else it’s staining my flesh.
My head is pounding, but my memory is intact up until I blacked out. At this point, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. My face is the only place on my body free of marks, except for a bruise near my temple, mostly hidden by my hair, and a cut where my glasses dug in. I look barely better than death and feel that way, too.
The apartment is quiet, so I’m hoping Derek has gone somewhere, but that hope is proven wrong when the bathroomdoor opens. I know I should’ve run while I had the chance, but I need every trace of last night erased from my skin as soon as possible, and to be honest, even making it to the bathroom felt like too big a task.
Staying silent, I focus on gently rubbing soap across my battered body. I’m moving slowly, not only due to pain, but I’m dizzy and still extremely nauseated. I make an attempt at washing my hair, but it hurts too fucking much to raise my arms, so I give up on that quickly.
“Your fucktoy wanted to know if you were okay,” Derek says, his voice echoing through the bathroom as the clink of my cell phone hitting the counter fills the air a second later.
“I don’t have one of those,” I answer stoically, clinging to what I said last night. As soon as I get out of this shower, I’m packing the one bag of shit I own, and I’m gone. Even if I have to fucking crawl.
“I told him you were fine, and that he was nothing to you, and if he contacted you again, you were going to claim sexual harassment. I also emailed your bosses at Ricochet, putting in your two-week notice at Summit,andI told them you and Talon were not to work any of the same shifts ever again. I also texted your loser friends from the theater and let them know your understudy would have to take over tonight because you’re under the weather. You’re welcome.”
I rip the shower curtain back, and pain blasts through my side.
“Why the fuck…would you do…that?” I wheeze, unable to catch my breath as I grip my side.
Derek shrugs. “I figured the rest of those nerds shouldn’t suffer for your lapse in judgment, and to be honest, I didn’t think you were going to be coherent anytime today. Things might have gotten a little out of hand last night.”
Although I’m pissed about that too, that’s not what I’m talking about.
“I meant why…would you say that to my boss…at Summit?”
“You didn’t honestly believe I’d let you continue seeing that guy every day, did you?” Derek asks, like he makes all the sense in the world.
