The Imperfections

“He threatened you?”

Forget having a talk with the bastard; I’ve got 40 acres of property I can bury him under.

“Let’s not talk about this,” she says, trying her best to steer me away. She offers me a little smile, trying to keep the peace. Her hand absently caresses my side and she squeezes me a little, trying to placate me and reassure me that everything is okay. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m fine, it’s over, and I don’t want you to get involved. It’s not your problem, it’s no one’s problem… let’s just go to sleep.”

I can’t stand the casual way she speaks about people mistreating her. Maybe I just can’t understand what it’s like to be so powerless that people could treat me that way and know they can get away with it.

I regret saying she was easy to take advantage of now. Makes it sound like it’s her fault, and it’s not her fault rotten people keep finding her. It’s not her fault she’s never had anyone around to tell her she deserves better.

Maybe that’s why she fell into my path. Maybe it’s my job to show her how a man treats a woman so she stops accepting scraps from worthless little boys.

6

Alyssa

When Brant swept me out of my house a couple nights ago, I didn’t have time to grab many of my things. It’s not that he necessarily rushed me, it’s just there was a man with a gun thinking about killing me and it seemed like a good idea not to keep him waiting.

Some might argue it seemed like a better idea to scream my head off and not go with him in the first place, but I’m content with the way it all worked out. I definitely didn’t see things going this way. I knew there was a chance Brant might kill me if I went with him, but at least all my loved ones sleeping in their beds at home wouldn’t go down with me.

When I wake up Sunday morning, Brant is already up and out of bed. I’m relieved to see my things have been released from their prison, and I climb out of bed and go over to unpack. My clothes might be wrinkled now that he threw them in the chest, but I guess it doesn’t matter much.

My bag isn’t very big, so I couldn’t fit much anyway, but I filled it to bursting. I dump it all on the bed now, sorting my bras and panties first then grabbing my white sun dress and laying it out across the bed. It’s a little wrinkled, but not too bad. A few minutes in the dryer should fix it.

I don’t know what we’re doing today, so I’m not sure how I should dress. I do know it’s hot outside, so I fold the single pair of jeans I brought and set them aside.

Now that I have the little emergency purse I stashed in the bottom, I have some cosmetics with me. It’s not a whole lot—a toothbrush, a trial-size toothpaste, some deodorant, mascara, a tube of cherry ChapStick, a couple hair ties and clips, and a little rose gold hair brush.

At least I can do a better job getting myself ready today.

Since Brant’s not in bed anymore, I go in and take a quick shower. I put on a denim skirt with a white T-shirt, then second-guess how plain it looks and go back to the bedroom.

Brant walks in just as I’m pulling my T-shirt off. He stops, blinks several times, and starts to take a step back into the hall before he remembers he’s seen me naked, so I don’t need privacy to change clothes.

I flash him a smile as I refold my T-shirt. “Good morning.”

“It sure is,” he agrees, letting his gaze linger on the exposed cleavage swelling out of my bra.

I grab a cropped short-sleeved cardigan and slide it on.

As I’m buttoning the five buttons that start at my breasts and only go to just above my belly button, Brant tells me, “I think they forgot to make the other half of your sweater.”

I bite back a grin, buttoning the last one and smoothing it down. “It’s supposed to be that way. It’s a crop top—it’s meant to show off some skin.”

He shakes his head, looking at my exposed belly button like it fascinates him. “Cardigans sure had a different job when I was growing up.”

“They’re much sexier now,” I acknowledge with a smile. “Did you eat yet?”

“Nope. Figured I’d wait for you. Scout wasn’t so polite.”

I can’t help chuckling at his adorable pup’s insatiable appetite. “He’s a growing boy—I wouldn’t expect him to be.”

Looking me over again, he stops when he gets back to my white top. “That’s gonna get dirty,” he warns. Shifting his gaze to the clothes on the bed, he cocks a dark eyebrow. “Do you have anything that isn’t white?”