Chapter Thirteen: Evil

237 10 6
                                    



Cameron Windsor

"I know damn well he didn't hire me another babysitter."

Megan stared at me. "I'm not getting paid—I'm not babysitting anyone. I am simply taking a nice boy out to get some fresh air. You and Asher have been cooped up here for the last week, talking about your feelings, and I think you need a break. Asher is at work today, so I'm going to bring you out. The kids are at school, and trust me, Momma bear bites."

"I think he's doing a little better." I took a bite of my cereal. "Though, the media has been up his ass since I showed up at his office building. I am trying to understand why he's hoarding attention because he took his pet trauma boy out once. I think he needs to say something before it gets even more out of hand." I dropped my spoon into the bowl. "Do you know that there are people who think I lied about my assault? They believe I'm trying to use him for money. Which admittedly, it looks bad, but I'm not. Not even close."

"You're broke?"

I frowned. "I have hit a slight financial burden, but I don't know how to...do anything other than what I was prepped for my entire life."

"And after everything you've been going through, how could you?" She put her hand on her hip, tapping her fingernails against the counter. "I don't mean to pry, but where did all of your money go?"

Humming, I dropped the spoon into my bowl. "I paid for therapy. I moved around the United States for two years, and my parents cut me off. I was living off what I'd saved before they had. I'm going to tell my brothers when they return, which I don't know when that will be. I haven't heard much from them. But I will tell them."

"How broke are you?"

"What do you consider broke?"

"To you? Like ten grand."

"Try less than one hundred dollars. But!" I broke through before she could speak. "I paid for my therapy for this month. My brothers will help me. I know they will. I hate to ask, but I am only concerned about paying for therapy. They gave me a place to live and food to eat. I have everything else."

Megan sighed. "Sweetheart, why don't you talk to Asher about this?"

I shook my head. "No. I have to draw the line somewhere. All I have to do is call my brothers. I can do that right now; I will. But you can't tell him. He already knows to an extent. Though, I'm starting to think he believes I might have ten grand or more left over." I waved away the thought as I took out my phone. "I'll call my brothers."

She eyed me like a Mom who was making sure I was doing what I told her I would. "Yeah, get on that."

Sighing, I hopped off the barstool and started pacing the floor. I bit my thumbnail as I scrolled through my contacts. To Megan's credit, I should have done this a while ago, but I was going through a lot of bullshit happening here. The almost week since I went with Asher to work has been nothing but me finding time to talk things out with Asher.

He appeared to be doing better, but I couldn't really tell. The healing process was spotty. There were days when I would feel like I was on top of the world, and then I would fall on my face. Trauma sneaks up on you and rips you away from your stable mind when you least expect it. Asher was nowhere near healed enough. But he'd been going to therapy, and I was proud of him for it.

And during this week, I only had one more nightmare than the last one. Despite the backlash online, I was starting to see a difference. I felt a lot of my anxiety came from not telling the people I loved most. And maybe a little bit of that asshole fucking with my head over the years. I wish I could say I was working through that enough to keep my head above water, but I tried to commit suicide. I still ended up falling and drowning. 

Defamed: Book Three (bxb) ✔️ Where stories live. Discover now