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Ah, the truth. Finally.
As much as I wanted to keep my distance, a bigger part of me burned with vindication. We both knew that I was the reason he’d spent four years in jail, and no matter how he tried to spin it, when it came right down to it, it was always something that would be there in the background.
“You went through it for me, huh?” I said, opening my eyes. “Did I ask you to do that?”
“Apparently, you’re incapable of asking for anything,” he shot back.
“How about this, I’m asking you to get the fuck out of my apartment.”
“So you can curl up in a ball and feel sorry for yourself?” he scoffed. “Sorry, no can do.”
“Why the fuck are you even here?” I asked, sitting up. “I thought you were leaving if I didn’t answer you earlier. So, go. Don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya.” I never thought I’d use that phrase in my life, but it had practically poured from my mouth. Thanks, Nana, for that particular gem.
“Jesus Christ,” he spat. “I never thought you’d be the one causin’ all sorts of drama, but here you are, doin’ it.”
“I’m causing drama?” I hissed, getting out of bed. “You’re in my apartment!”
“After Charlie came down cryin’ because you ran her out of it.”
“Charlie needs to learn to keep her fucking mouth shut,” I yelled.
“Oh, like you do?” he asked with a laugh. “How’s that workin’ out for ya? You’re fightin’ with your man and your best friend.”
“My man?” I asked with a nasty laugh. “I thought you were leaving?”
“For fuck’s sake,” he growled, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re a fuckin’ nightmare.”
“No, I’m just trying to get my life back,” I snapped. “There was no drama before you showed back up.”
“There was nothin’ before I showed up,” he roared, glaring at me. “You’d never even been to a bar.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” I asked in confusion.
“What kind of twenty-one year old doesn’t go to the bar?”
“The smart kind?” I replied, but he continued like he didn’t even hear me.
“Where’s your make-up, Kara? Where’s the clothes you used to wear? The jewelry? Where’s your fuckin’ tits?”
“Excuse me?” I sputtered.
“Where’d it all go? Huh? Where’d your fuckin’ personality go?”
“Please explain to me how my breasts have anything to do with my personality,” I said flatly. “I’ll wait.”
“You fuckin’ disappeared,” he said, bending a little at the waist so we were eye to eye. “I left and you faded away.”
“That’s bullshit,” I said dismissively. “I grew up.”
“No,” he replied. “When the fuck did you turn into a little mouse?”
“Fuck you.”
“Not even if you paid me,” he replied.
I wouldn’t have been more surprised if he’d slapped me. It probably would’ve hurt less. Taking a step backward, I lifted a hand to my chest, rubbing the ache there.
“I think we’re done here,” I said quietly. My fight was gone. What little he’d pulled out of me seemed to have vanished, and I just really really didn’t want to be standing there arguing with him.
“We’re not done.”
“It was easier,” I said, meeting his eyes. “If I didn’t wear make-up and I cut my hair and I ran until I could sleep at night, it was easier to blend in.” I shrugged. “They were talking about my boobs non-stop. It was always something. So when I realized that I seemed to slim down the more I ran, I kept doing it.”
“Sweetheart,” he said softly. He reached for me and I dodged him. I didn’t want him to touch me.
“I didn’t feel like putting earrings on. Eventually, I didn’t feel like putting make-up on. I liked the way I looked without it. I wasn’t calling attention to myself and that felt better,” I said, backing up until I hit the wall next to the bed. He reached for me again. “Not even if I paid you, remember?”
“I’m not tryin’ to have sex with you,” he bit out. “I just wanna hold you.”
“No, thank you,” I replied immediately.
“What did they do?” he asked, the vein in his cheek throbbing as he clenched his jaw.
“Nothing,” I said with a humorless laugh. “They didn’t do anything. Did you think I was attacked? I wasn’t.”
“Somethin’ happened.”
“Everything happened,” I replied, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration. “Some jackass took photos and video of me nearly dying at a school dance and all anyone at school saw were my breasts. Then you beat the shit out of him and got sent to prison and then Curtis didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I talked to him, he—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I said, stopping him. “It doesn’t matter what your brother said.”
“It sure as fuck does.”
“No,” I insisted. “It doesn’t. I don’t blame him, okay? I don’t. I’d feel the same if the situation was reversed. You want to know why I changed? Because all of this, all of it happened because of the way I looked and because I wanted to go to fucking prom.”
