should be here, too. The money- it's not worth it. In fact, I'd pay that kind of money for it to never happen again, not to me or any other person in existence.
When he gives me permission to leave- it's with a warning that if I dare tell on him, this will happen again... repetitively.
Sneaking out the janitorial office doors, I head to the car, my face bowed down, trying my best not to limp. I can feel him watching me. He is waiting for me to screw up before I'm even off his property. I won't give him that satisfaction though.
Heavy tears flow from my eyes the entire ride home. I drive faster than I should, but have to pull over several times because my eyes are too blurred to see the road in front of me. At one point I had a full on panic attack. When I pull into the condo complex of home, I see that Everett's truck is there. The last thing I need him to see is me looking like this.
Pulling down the visor, I look myself over. My eye is bruised pretty well, my lip a bit swollen but nothing some red lipstick can't hide. Green and yellow bruises accompany my neck- so I reach into my purse to pull out my concealer to cover it, then tie a silk scarf around myself. Sliding on some sunglasses, I feel a lot better about if I run into him. I pray a few times to myself that I don't see him though.
Once I'm in the elevator, I know I'm safe from running into Everett. I pull the glasses off and slide them into my purse. My phone is vibrating in my pocket, and Kandy's name flashes against the screen. Staring down at her name, I wonder what I should do about the situation. I know I should tell her, but the fear of what can- and probably will- happen to me if I snitch out Mr. Belvidere leaves me feeling paralyzed.
When the elevator dings, the doors slide open, I look up ready to step off and see the last thing- or shall I say, person- I expected to see.
Everett's smile immediately fades away, and the rage that courses through his body is evident. "What... the... fuck."
I believe he can only see my eye, maybe my lip. The bruising around my neck is covered, and he hasn't even looked down at my legs. I cleaned up the blood with a makeup remover wipe, and the cuts are mainly on my thigh area, masked by my dress for the most part.
I stare back, unsure of what to say or do. "Hey," I say, playing it off the best I can. With a pull of my lips, I give him a sad smirk. "I fell outside work today, took quite the digger into the gravel." Rolling my eyes, I point at my eye, knowing he sees the swelling and bruising. "Damn rock got me smack in the eye. I thought it was going to fall out, no joke, but I'm all good now. I feel a lot better. Nothing some Ibuprofen can't fix, nor the glass or two of wine I'm about to have."
Walking off the elevator, straight past Everett, I wait for him to say something in return but he doesn't. He does, however, follow me to my door. I close my eyes when I pull the keys from my purse, wishing he'd get the hint and leave. Turning to face him once more, I lift an eyebrow, questioning why he's still here. "Did you need something?"
"Who did this to you, Brenna?"
"No one. I told you, I fell."
"I'm asking you again, who did this to you?"
"No one." I quickly become defensive. Maybe even slightly pissed.
Not so much at Everett, but at the situation.
He releases a quick blow of air from his mouth while releasing the fists that were clenched tightly. I can tell he's trying to tame himself, which is why I can't tell him what happened or by whom. I can't even give in the slightest. I have to roll with the punches on this one, because if I tell him even the slightest bit of what happened, I'll have to tell him the rest- and I can't do that.
"Everett." I say his name with patience, hoping the kindness in my voice will cause him to believe me. "I fell. Honestly. I'm wearing almost five inch heels that I'm not used to, I was looking at my phone, not paying any attention. I slipped, trying my best to grab for the car
When he gives me permission to leave- it's with a warning that if I dare tell on him, this will happen again... repetitively.
Sneaking out the janitorial office doors, I head to the car, my face bowed down, trying my best not to limp. I can feel him watching me. He is waiting for me to screw up before I'm even off his property. I won't give him that satisfaction though.
Heavy tears flow from my eyes the entire ride home. I drive faster than I should, but have to pull over several times because my eyes are too blurred to see the road in front of me. At one point I had a full on panic attack. When I pull into the condo complex of home, I see that Everett's truck is there. The last thing I need him to see is me looking like this.
Pulling down the visor, I look myself over. My eye is bruised pretty well, my lip a bit swollen but nothing some red lipstick can't hide. Green and yellow bruises accompany my neck- so I reach into my purse to pull out my concealer to cover it, then tie a silk scarf around myself. Sliding on some sunglasses, I feel a lot better about if I run into him. I pray a few times to myself that I don't see him though.
Once I'm in the elevator, I know I'm safe from running into Everett. I pull the glasses off and slide them into my purse. My phone is vibrating in my pocket, and Kandy's name flashes against the screen. Staring down at her name, I wonder what I should do about the situation. I know I should tell her, but the fear of what can- and probably will- happen to me if I snitch out Mr. Belvidere leaves me feeling paralyzed.
When the elevator dings, the doors slide open, I look up ready to step off and see the last thing- or shall I say, person- I expected to see.
Everett's smile immediately fades away, and the rage that courses through his body is evident. "What... the... fuck."
I believe he can only see my eye, maybe my lip. The bruising around my neck is covered, and he hasn't even looked down at my legs. I cleaned up the blood with a makeup remover wipe, and the cuts are mainly on my thigh area, masked by my dress for the most part.
I stare back, unsure of what to say or do. "Hey," I say, playing it off the best I can. With a pull of my lips, I give him a sad smirk. "I fell outside work today, took quite the digger into the gravel." Rolling my eyes, I point at my eye, knowing he sees the swelling and bruising. "Damn rock got me smack in the eye. I thought it was going to fall out, no joke, but I'm all good now. I feel a lot better. Nothing some Ibuprofen can't fix, nor the glass or two of wine I'm about to have."
Walking off the elevator, straight past Everett, I wait for him to say something in return but he doesn't. He does, however, follow me to my door. I close my eyes when I pull the keys from my purse, wishing he'd get the hint and leave. Turning to face him once more, I lift an eyebrow, questioning why he's still here. "Did you need something?"
"Who did this to you, Brenna?"
"No one. I told you, I fell."
"I'm asking you again, who did this to you?"
"No one." I quickly become defensive. Maybe even slightly pissed.
Not so much at Everett, but at the situation.
He releases a quick blow of air from his mouth while releasing the fists that were clenched tightly. I can tell he's trying to tame himself, which is why I can't tell him what happened or by whom. I can't even give in the slightest. I have to roll with the punches on this one, because if I tell him even the slightest bit of what happened, I'll have to tell him the rest- and I can't do that.
"Everett." I say his name with patience, hoping the kindness in my voice will cause him to believe me. "I fell. Honestly. I'm wearing almost five inch heels that I'm not used to, I was looking at my phone, not paying any attention. I slipped, trying my best to grab for the car
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