Damage Control

Chapter 35

"Brandon?" I whispered through the hand covering my mouth, trying to twist my head to see the stranger behind me, but the person slammed my head forward against the wall, stopping me from searching any further.

Instant pain shot through my head like a bullet as it cracked against the cool bricks in front of me, and soon after, hot wet fluid dripped down my face, landing directly on my cheek; I didn't need a mirror to know it was blood.

Terror washed over me, raising the fine hairs on my arms the moment I heard his throaty chuckle bounce off the walls around us and felt his hot breath fanning against the back of my neck.

It was Brandon, my worst fucking nightmare.

Brandon was my ex, the ex that cheated on me with my best friend at my father's funeral in the back of his car. My heart broke twice that day, seeing the two people I cared about most betray me on a day filled with so much grief already.

I never thought Brandon was capable of cheating on me, but I was the typical naive girlfriend that never noticed the multiple red flags he showed me.

The first year of our relationship was perfect. There wasn't one moment we spent apart, and the rare times we did, he'd be texting me until we were back together again. He was the perfect boyfriend. Sweet, caring, knew his way around words making you feel as if you were the center of his universe, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.

As we got into our second year of dating, he started to become controlling. Wondering where I was at certain times, telling me who I can and can't talk to whether they were my friend or not. Telling me which of my outfits were appropriate and which weren't.

One day I couldn't take it anymore and confronted him about it, which led to him slapping me across my face. Before I could react, he began apologizing profusely, telling me that he didn't mean it and that it was an accident.

Tears flowed down his cheeks as he begged me for forgiveness, and so I did. I forgave him and moved on as if nothing happened, which was my first mistake.

Our relationship returned to normal, leading into the third year, exactly how it was when we first started dating. He wasn't the controlling person he used to be.

He was more attentive, gentle, showed me affection every second of the day until I completely forgot he ever put his hands on me. That is until he did it again. I remember distinctly it was a Friday night, and I had just found out my father died from a heart attack.

My phone was blowing up from all his contacts, wondering what was going to be next for Faye Industries, was I going to take over or should they start looking for a new job? But I didn't have answers for anyone because I didn't know myself. Just like them, my entire world had changed, and to say I was stressed would've been an understatement.

Brandon came home drunk that night, wanting to have sex, but I told him no, that I was busy and needed to figure out what I was going to do since the passing of my father.

But Brandon being Brandon, the controlling, short-tempered person he is, didn't like that answer. He grabbed me by my hair and slammed me against the wall constricting my movements.

I remember feeling his hot breath fanning against the back of my neck. I remember the strong stench of beer radiating through his pores as he nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck. I remember how hot his tongue felt when he licked my cheek as if I was a dessert, getting ready to devour me whole, but I knew I had the advantage of being sober, so I did what any sane person would do.

I kneed him in the balls and watched as he crumpled down in pain, but as soon as I moved to run away, he caught me; I was too slow. It was at that moment when I thought I was going to die, but I didn't. Instead, he began crying again, telling me how sorry he was and that he was planning on getting help because I deserved better from him.