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I tried to think about what could be on my phone, and then it hit me; this was about the texts I sent to Ryan. I was always so careful to delete my texts right after I sent one, especially when it was with Ryan.
Brad hated me having any communication with Ryan. He said it was inappropriate because Ryan would always flirt with me. He really didn't know Ryan thought of me as a sister, no matter how hard I tried growing up to get him to see me as someone more. It's one of the many reasons I left and came here. I was so tired last night I must have forgotten to delete it.
"Why the fuck is Ryan texting you? I told you that shit needed to stop. You disrespectful bitch," Brad seethed.
With one hand still wrapped around my throat and me using both hands trying to get him to let go, he slid his other hand down my stomach and over my pussy.
"How many times have you let him fuck you, you bitch?" Brad yelled.
"No, never," was all I could get out.
"You're fucking lying," he seethed.
"No, I'm not lying," I stated as my eyes began to water.
He seethed again, "You're fucking lying," and before I could react, his hand came back up and smacked me straight across the face.
The sting was overwhelming. Something happened when his hand made contact with my cheek.
I was done. I was done being a victim. I was done with crying. He was not going to get me to beg him to stop. I stared him straight into his eyes, not giving him a reaction to the smack he just gave me. His hand was still wrapped around my throat.
"I'm sick of you lying and disrespecting our relationship," he practically spat in my face with anger.
I said nothing, just kept staring him straight in the eyes. I would not show him any fear.
Again, smack.
I closed my eyes in pain. He got me in the exact same spot. I felt the skin on my right cheek under my eye split open. I felt the blood, but still, I didn't react; I held in the tears and just stared him straight in the eyes again. I knew I was pissing him off more, but I just didn't care. I knew this was not going to end well, but I could not bring myself to beg.
"Get the fuck out of my apartment," I stated firmly. "We're done," I seethed this time.
"Really, we're done? That's what you think?" Brad yelled.
"Yes," I yelled back.
"We're not even close to being done."
Before I could even see what was happening, he punched me and then immediately punched me again. As he let go of my throat, I fell to the floor in excruciating pain.
"Call Jeff and let him know you're not feeling well and that you won't be at work tonight because tonight, you're mine."
Curled up in pain, holding my face, I yelled, "Fuck y—"
Brad kicked me in the stomach, knocking the air from my lungs.
"Call Jeff. You're not going to work tonight. I'll see you later." Brad turned and walked out of the bathroom.
3
MACKENNA
I waited until I heard the apartment door slam shut, then grabbed the top of the vanity and pulled myself up but dropped back down in pain. I hit the tiled floor and just lay there in pain for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was probably only minutes. I started to get cold and realized I was still naked.
Again, I grabbed onto the vanity and pulled myself up successfully this time. I held onto the vanity, peeked up into the mirror, and then gasped at the damage to my face.
My right eye was swelling.
I had a gash on my cheek under my eye. My lip was also starting to swell and had been split open. My stomach was red from where he kicked me. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for some time, trying to figure out what the hell I should do.
