Nowhere was safe with Bodie.
My chest ached because, looking back, I could see it so clearly. I could see his small smacks to the leg, minor pinches to my arm, and light intimidation. They’d all been so small that they’d barely blipped on my radar until it was too late—until they all slowly chipped away at my core and left me in too deep. I’d been so ashamed to be led there that I hadn’t had the courage to ask for help.
Bodie’s abuse was like a slow drip in a roof—sometimes, you didn’t know how bad it was until the ceiling came crashing in on you.
“You know,” he kept going. “I never did get to finish pitching my goals to your father.”
Like a switch to a lightbulb, everything lit up and made sense.
“Ohhhh, I see,” I said slowly. “You don’t miss me. You just miss harassing my father.
He sputtered before grounding out, “No. I’m just thinking of his future and what I can do to help after the fucking fiasco you caused.”
Clue one to Bodie losing his shit: swearing. Usually, that was the point I backed down, doing my best to not escalate him any further.
But I didn’t let Bodie’s moods dictate my actions anymore, and after a month away from his dominance, confidence surged, and I wanted to prove it.
I wanted him to squirm, knowing he had no control over me anymore.
“Fiasco? You mean marrying my best friend after dumping your ass?” I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
“I meant getting drunk and married in Vegas like some low-class whore.”
Clue two: personal attacks.
“Oh, Bodie,” I laughed. “No need to worry about that. Did you not see the articles about the Hamptons? People are eating it up. They love it.” My false jovial tone turned acerbic. “So, you can go fuck off because you and your shitty proposals aren’t needed here. Apparently, you didn’t get the message that I’m done with you. That means move the fuck on and stop calling like a desperate piece of shit.”
“Raelynn.”
Clue three: animal-like noises warning of an impending explosion.
If I closed my eyes, I could clearly imagine him with a tight jaw and clenching fists. The vein along his forehead would be pulsing, and his eyes dark.
A single tremor rattled about before I quickly shoved it down. Fuck him and fuck any fear he instilled in me. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and imagined another time. A time when Austin looked at me like I was crazy for apologizing for making him mad. A time when Austin reminded me that abuse isn’t my fault. Others choose how they act—not me.
“Go fuck yourself, Bodie, and get some anger management.”
“I wouldn’t be so angry if you weren’t such a bitch,” he finally snapped. “You fucking owe me.”
I owed him? I replayed the words, trying to make sense of them, but that only made me angrier. I owed him? He took a year from me. He took a piece of me I said I’d never give up. I owed him nothing.
“Excuse me?” I asked slowly.
“You fucking owe me for dating your high maintenance-ass and having to deal with your annoying-ass friends. I made you look good at events instead of a desperate slut spreading her legs for any dumb fuck that came along. So, we are not fucking done.”
His words hit the brick wall of my rage. I didn’t bother to waste my time addressing his weak insults. Instead, I made one thing clear. “I don’t owe you shit.”
“You owe me a goddamn meeting with your father,” he shouted, fully enveloped in his anger. “I fucking earned it, and you’re going to get it for me because I swear to fucking god, Raelynn, I will come there and fucking force it out of you if I have to. I’ll break down your goddamn do—”
“Goodbye, Bodie.” I didn’t bother letting him finish his tirade. Instead, I hit the red circle and sat my phone back on the counter.
I ignored how my hand trembled and shoved aside the urge to run and check my locks.
I was not scared. Bodie had no power over me.
Besides, I always locked my doors.
I met the dark smoky eyes in the mirror and lifted my chin.
“I’m a bad bitch,” I said to my reflection, adding a smirk for good measure. “A bad bitch with a fucked-up brow.”
I quickly finished my makeup before running to my closet. I imagined each outfit from Austin’s point of view, trying to pick one. We’d gone to countless dinners, and I’d never worried about what I looked like for him. Maybe how I’d look if my photo got taken, but never for Austin.
No matter how much I tried to convince myself this was like any other dinner together, it felt different, and I couldn’t quite figure out why. Maybe because I squeezed my eyes shut and plugged my ears while singing lalalala anytime the answer got too close. I was happy in our bubble, and I didn’t want anything to ruin it. So rather than dig too deep into the cause of the warmth blooming in my chest, I explained the difference away as knowing we’d end up back at his place or mine by the end of the night.