Beautiful PRICK (6 page)
Authors: Sophia Kenzie
“Caroline. Caroline. Wake up.”
My ears are still ringing, but I know I hear my name. Someone
is shaking me.
I’m lifted from the cold, hard ground. I try to blink my
eyes. I try so hard. I want to see. I want to know what happened. I want to
know why everything is so foggy.
There’s water running and now there’s something warm on my
head: warm and wet. It’s comforting and calming and…
And I remember.
My body shakes with a jolt at the vision of those five men,
especially the one in the center. My eyes spring open and focus.
It’s all white. Everything is white with a warm glow.
“Caroline?”
“How did I get back here?” I groan as I try to roll over. My
face stings and my ribs feel bruised.
Johnny’s eyes appear above me. His disapproving look
followed by his raspy voice makes me not only feel pain, but also guilt.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Why do I feel guilty? He has no right to talk to me that
way.
And yet… what the hell did I think I was doing?
“Let me go.” I try to push him out of the way, but as I do,
I feel a stabbing pain rush through my entire body. “Ouch. What the…” I pinch
my eyes through the agony.
“Don’t move, kid. You’re pretty banged up.” He hums at me as
he continues to press the warm towel to my forehead.
“Don’t call me
kid.
” I snap.
I watch as he furrows his brow and rolls his bottom lip
under his teeth.
“Well, I won’t call you
kid
if you stop doing
childish things.”
“Me? Me?” I blow up. “You’re the one who devised an entire
plan just to get me to sleep with you!”
He half laughs as he lifts his face away from mine. “I
wouldn’t necessarily call that
childish.
”
And then he winks.
Oh dear Lord, I could just punch him.
And yet, I can’t. I still can’t really move without wincing.
“You still never answered me.” I call to Johnny who is now
in the kitchen.
“What question did you ask me?” He calls right back as he
sets out a mug on the kitchen countertop and pours out boiling water from the
tea kettle.
“How did I get back here?”
Johnny steps back out in front of me, setting a cup of tea
onto the coffee table. “This is my own little brew. Something to get you back
on your feet.”
He carefully explains to me that he woke up early to go for
a run when he realized I wasn’t on the couch, and I wasn’t still locked in the
closet. So he jogged down to the studio and checked with the night security. They
both told him that I had been there about two hours earlier, but refused to let
them call for a car.
Knowing my stubbornness, he decided to run down the street a
little ways, in the direction he knew I might try to walk.
That’s when he saw me-passed out on the sidewalk.
“Do you remember what happened, Caroline?”
I do. But I don’t want to talk about it.
Instead, I take a sip of my tea. “Is this whiskey?”
“It is. In tea.” A sharp grin flashes across his face.
“Really? How many times are you going to try and get me drunk?”
I half tease.
“That’s not what this time is about.”
“Oh really?” I raise my eyebrows in distrust, but it hurts.
“You’re in pain, kid. I’m just trying to help ease that.”
“Again with the
kid.
” I quietly cry as I push myself
up into a seated position.
Not only does he call me
kid,
but he also looks at me
as if I’m a child. Awesome.
I sigh and look away. “I’m fine. Don’t look at me like
that.”
Johnny twists his face. “Take off your shirt.”
“Oh my God, do you never quit?” I’m stunned at his
persistence.
But he just laughs. “Caroline, take off your shirt.” He
moves to the bathroom and opens up the medicine cabinet. After grabbing two
bottles, he comes back and kneels down in front of me. “This is arnica
ointment. It helps to reduce the inflammation and swelling. This
is Bromelain. If you take one of these, it will
actually break down…” He looks up into my utterly confused eyes. “You know
what? Just take this whenever I tell you to.”
Johnny hands me a pill, and I do as I’m told.
“This is the part where I need you to take off your
shirt—it’s already ripped halfway.”
“I can put on the ointment myself.” I reach out my hand, but
flinch involuntarily from the act.
He rocks back. “If you can reach your arm around to your
side, I’ll let you put this on yourself.”
It’s a challenge, which I smugly accept.
Except I can’t. So I try again. The pain is too much, and my
will is not enough. Tears sting my eyes.
“Can you lift your arms up?” His voice is soft and his eyes
are caring. For some reason, I trust him.
I shake my head. “I can’t.” I feel my face flush with
embarrassment.
“It’s okay, Caroline.” Johnny smiles as he brushes the back
of his hand against my cheek.
Slowly, he slides the hem of my shirt up my sides and over
my chest. I shy away quickly, but he keeps up his task without making a crude
comment or randy remark. So I look back at him. He cautiously guides my arms,
one at a time, through my sleeves, making sure to support my arms so they don’t
carelessly fall and smack against my bruised ribs.
Johnny sets my shirt next to me and sighs.
“What?” I warily ask, afraid to see what I look like myself.
“You are…” He looks up at me and softly smiles. “You are
beautiful, Caroline.”
I don’t know what it is: the moment, the care, or his
freaking accent…but I feel his warmth, and I want more of it.
“Thank you.” I quietly mumble back.
Slowly, he begins to rub the ointment on my ribs, taking
care to not apply pressure when I wince.
He finishes, and I feel a pang of sadness. His hands, his
strong hands, on my body… well, I really enjoyed it and
I didn’t want him to stop.
Johnny left my view to wash his hands, and then stepped
quickly back in front of me. “Do you need anything?”
“My shirt-back on?” I try to shrug.
And there’s that sly smile again. “Oh no. You’re staying
just like this.”
“Jerk.” I narrow my eyes.
“I have to head to the studio.”
“Shoot. What time is it?” I completely forgot that I had to
work.
“Oh no. You’re staying right here.” He shakes his head,
suddenly serious.
“Johnny, I can’t.”
“Well, I’m your boss, and I say you’re staying right here.”
He kneels down in front of me.
“Johnny, please…”
But he cuts me off. “Listen, I need you to stay here. Unless
you feel like you need to go to the emergency room.”
“No!” I quickly interject.
“Then you stay here, and when we break for lunch, I’ll bring
you something from craft services.”
“And then you’ll put my shirt back on?” I bite my bottom
lip.
Johnny stares at me for a second. It’s an interesting kind
of stare: like he’s trying to figure me out.
But then he leans into me.
“We’ll see.” He whispers before he plants the softest kiss
on my cheek. “If you need anything, my phone number is right here, next to the
phone.”
Johnny smiles one more time before he turns away and walks
to the door.
“Hey.” I call after him.
“Yeah?” He turns around, his hand on the doorknob.
“Thank you.”
He nods knowingly, and then leaves me alone.
Alone.
Alone.
I have nothing now but the memories: all the memories.
I replay the events of the last few hours over and over in
my head. I beat myself up over my silly, stupid actions. How could I be so
careless? So ridiculously immature?
How could I let that happen to me?
How could I be so vulnerable?
How could I be such a victim?
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I was a victim. I
couldn’t stand up for myself. I could’ve been killed.
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I need to get out of here.
So I pick up the phone and dial.
“Damn, Care Bear, what the hell happened to you?”
I give Keith a death look, as I was really hoping when I
called him from Johnny’s apartment that he wouldn’t turn around and call his
wife.
“I’m fine.” I grumble, still staring at Keith, the traitor.
“You are not fine.” She coddles me. “Did you get run over by
a car?”
“No.” My feet begin to fidget. “I just got a little bit…
mugged.”
“Oh my God.” Melissa screams as she rises to her feet. “Where
were you? What time? How many people? What did they take? Did you go to the
hospital?”
“Melissa, calm down.” I try to raise my hand up to her, but
my ribs are still aching, and I find it hard to stretch that way. “I just
called Keith because I know you guys have a spare set of my keys.”
“She refused to let me take her to the hospital, so I
wouldn’t let her go home.” Keith interposes, as he returns from putting Austin
down for a nap.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Melissa shakes her head at me. “At
least someone has some sense here.”
I want to storm out, but seeing as I’m still pretty banged
up, there’s nothing much I can do except make a snarly face at the two of them.
“You can’t keep me locked up here forever.” I pout like a child.
Melissa finally calms enough to sit down next to me, and
after a quick look to her husband, we are the only two left in the room.
She softly places her hand on my knee. “Care Bear… tell me
what happened.”
So I do. I tell her about Johnny and his stupid fuzzy
peaches and his unwillingness to shower without me sitting right outside,
holding his towel. I tell her about the hot chocolate mix and the decaffeinated
tea. And then I tell her how he manipulated me into spending the night with
him.
“Did you sleep with Johnny Braylock?”
“No! No! Absolutely not. Which is why I left.”
“At two in the morning?” She purses her lips.
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
And so I continue on, telling her about the group of guys
and their catcalls, and my sarcastic response to them, and how I refused to
give up my bag, and then how I woke up this morning in Johnny’s living room.
Before I know it, I’m crying. I don’t know why. I thought I
was holding it together quite nicely. But now: I feel empty, scared, and
worthless. I can’t make these feelings go away.
“What are you doing?” I look up at her through tear-filled
eyes as she fishes through her bag.
“I’m calling the production team to let them know, I have to
take the rest of the day off.”
“No, please. Meliss, don’t do that.” I shake my hands at
her. “Look,
I feel better. I just want to lie
down in my own bed, close my eyes, and sleep all day. Can I please do that?”
Melissa sets her phone back in her bag, and gives me a
cursory smile. “Of course, Care Bear. If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” I quietly squeak out.
“Keith!” She calls into the next room.
“What’s up?” He peeks his head in from out of the kitchen.
“I’m taking Caroline home. Keep your phone on you, just in
case she needs you.”
“I can do that.” He pityingly smiles at me as he adjusts his
glasses.
“Thanks, Keith.” I sigh.
“Of course, Care-anything you need.”
The drive back to my apartment is pretty quiet, as
suspected. Melissa makes sure to go over every one of my bumps and bruises so
that she could confirm that I, in fact, do not need her to take me to the
emergency room. She begs me to call both her and Keith if I need anything, even
a cup of wonton soup from their favorite Chinese Restaurant.
She helps me inside: luckily, I live on the first floor,
because I don’t really see climbing steps to be in my near future. She then
adorably tucks me into bed, setting a large glass of water and a few snacks on
my nightstand.
“Book or television?” She coos as she stands above me.
“Television. Find me a crime show marathon.” I sink into my
pillows as she fumbles with the remote.
“
SVU, CSI,
or
NCIS
?”
“So many acronyms.” I moan.
“
Criminal Minds
?”
“Yes! That one.”
I thank her and promise yet again that I don’t need anything
else. When she finally leaves, I settle into bed and let my mind focus on the
story I’m watching rather than the one that keeps replaying itself in my head.
But it’s not easy. I can still hear their voices, I can
still see their faces, and I can still feel their touches. The only thing I am
seemingly able to think about is the fact that I didn’t do anything about it.
I let them hurt me.
And now I’m scared.
But I’m also very, very tired.
The sound of a fist banging on my door jolts me from my
sleep and I’m instantly thrown into a state of panic.
They’re here. They found me. They’ve come to take
anything I might have left.
I shake my head awake, reminding myself that it can’t be
them. The likelihood of that being the case is just not feasible. Slowly, I
peel the covers from atop my body and set my feet on the ground. I feel a
little better. The aches aren’t as strong. The pain isn’t as sharp.
I quietly step out of my room and stop in the living room,
as I use the arm of my couch to quickly steady myself before moving toward the
door. The fist is still banging, but I can only move so fast. I sneak a peek
out of the peephole, but the only thing I see is a fist. I feel a chill race up
my spine as I prepare to unlock the door.
Should I really do this? It could be anyone. He might
want to hurt me.
I bury my face in my hands for a brief second. What is wrong
with me? Why can’t I shake this helpless feeling?
There’s only one thing I can do: I have to face my fear. I
have to open the door.
But I’m not prepared for the sight I see. There, standing in
front of me, covered in blood and riddled with gashes, is Johnny.
“What… what happened to you?”
“I told you not to leave, Caroline.”
