Our love couldn't go wrong

Chapter Ten :

Tw for emotional abuse and sexual harassment (based on real events mentioned on the Smoshcast)

Weeks pass without further incident and Courtney finds herself growing increasingly comfortable with their relationship. Jason is happier than he used to be, he's being so good and kind to her; he says how she has been learning and getting better and she can't help the way it makes her feel all warm inside. It confirms what she'd thought before, that them going through that rough patch was her fault. But things have changed, she's changed, and everything has been good.

Until it isn't anymore.

It's the weekend after a long week of filming at work and she's not feeling too great - she knew she was getting sick a couple days back and it was only a matter of time, especially when most of the office had already caught whatever bug was going around. All she wants is to spend her two days off sleeping off whatever this is, stuck at home, and maybe (just maybe) trying out that brownie recipe that Sarah had given her the other day. Jason, however, seems to have other plans.

She's woken up early Saturday morning to the sound of shouting coming from the living room and, barely awake and feeling groggy, she'd stumbled out of the bedroom to see what was going on. It was Jason and a couple of his friends on the couch, arguing about some lame video game they were all playing together.

Her first mistake has been asking them to keep it down a bit (not just for her sake but for the neighbours', too). He wasn't pleased.

"Oh, I can't hang with my friends and have some fun just because you want to be a bitch? You can't keep doing this, Courtney. I'm starting to get sick of your bullshit; this is my house, not yours, so stop acting like you own the place."

After he'd thrown the controller at her and missed, instead denting the drywall beside her head, she'd decided to just leave them be and hide out in the bedroom for the next couple of hours. Sure, she couldn't fall back asleep, but she did just lay in bed and close her eyes, and that did help her migraine a bit.

Jason comes in at some point in the afternoon, not too long after his friends had left, and grabbed his towel before heading to the bathroom. The sound of running water as he showered was soothing, and she must've dozed off at some point. She wakes up to him snapping at her, saying some shit about her not being ready and that they had to leave soon. She's confused and not fully with it, mumbling slightly as she tries to figure out what he's going on about.

"What are you...w-where are we going?" She asks, trying to rack her brain and recall anything he might've said about going out this weekend. There was nothing on the calendar, she's almost certain, but she's sick, she's tired, and she's not in the mood to argue with him. Maybe she's just confused.

"For fucks sake, Court, what is wrong with you? Mark's thirtieth? He's throwing a party and I told you like a week ago so don't get all pissy with me because you forgot, it's not my fault you're so fucking stupid and ditsy. It shouldn't be my responsibility to remind you of every, little thing we've got planned," His hand slams against her dresser as he speaks, knocking over the picture frame with a photo of her and Jango in it. She flinches, lip starting to tremble as a mix of guilt, frustration, and shame washes over her. He didn't say anything about a party. She's almost certain. But why would he lie about that - maybe she did just forget; she's not been one hundred percent the last few days, maybe more - when Mark is one of his closest friends, one of the only ones she's met that she can tolerate, and she typically wouldn't have an issue. "Now get ready. We're leaving in less than an hour and you can't go looking like a mess. But don't wear that whore shit you did last time, nobody likes a slut and you embarrassed me in front of the people I work with."

Cheeks flushing, she's quick to hang her head. It's not as though she meant to dress that way last time but it was the middle of a heatwave, she'd worn shorts and a bralette-style crop-top to work, and then he'd picked her up and they went straight over to a party that (yet again) she didn't even know about.

She won't make that mistake again.

She forces herself out of bed and starts to get ready as quick as she can, albeit slower than usual. Her head pounds and her body feels like it's on fire, but she knows that Jason won't have that as an excuse. She spends the majority of her time focusing on her makeup and trying to cover her most recent acne flare up.

Maybe it's selfish of her, but she doesn't want to go out. Yeah, she knows that it's Mark's birthday party - and a big one at that, considering he's turning thirty - but she's really not feeling well and if any of his friends would understand that, it's Mark. The panic is rising in her chest, as is the phlegm, and she coughs sharply. It rattles in her chest, leaving her winded.

Her outfit ends up being the last thing she sorts out, at the last minute, too, opting for her go-to little black dress and her converse. Simple, but classic. She can't go wrong with that, can she?

She was wrong. She did go wrong with that, but it's only now that she's finding it out.

It's been roughly half an hour since Jason had left her to catch up with his old sergeant from before he transferred departments, and her plan to linger by the drinks table until he comes back had been ruined by a wave of nausea that has her rushing outside. The house that's been rented is huge, and it makes more sense for her to throw up outside than risk not finding a bathroom in time, but thankfully she keeps the bile down. It's cool outside and she finds herself pressed up against the wall, resting her cheek against the chilled brick. She's pretty sure her fever is getting worse.

She doesn't get time to think about that, however, when a figure steps in front of her and has her trapped against the wall. He's blurry, as is everything in her view, and if she'd been drinking she would say she's drunk, but she knows she's not.

"Yooooo, damn girl, nobody told me that there'd be babes here. You're so hot, woah."

She cringes at his words, feeling herself shrink away and back against the wall. She tries to look around, to see if there's anyone around that she can pretend is her friend to just...get away and try to find Jason with, but they're the only ones in the garden. The panic starts to kick in.

She doesn't say anything, instead trying to slip past him and go back inside, but he grabs her shoulder and pulls her back towards him. "Leave me alone, please," Her words come out in a whine and she hates how weak she sounds, how pathetic her plea is. He cuts her off by grabbing her hand, holding her wrist with bruising force, and forcing it onto his boner.

"Yo, check this out."

He seems almost proud of himself and perhaps if this was any other time or place, she'd laugh at the situation. She's had worse happen to her. But then he's pinning her against the wall and she catches the back of her head on the brick, and all of a sudden the world is spinning and that wave of nausea rushes back and - "What the fuck is going on here? Courtney, you fucking slut. It's bad enough you dressing like a whore, now you gonna act like one, too?"

The rough hands on her shoulders are replaced by the rough hands of her boyfriend as he drags her away, leaving her to stumble along beside him until he's all but shoving her into the car.

She's so fucked now.