easy // p.r.

Chapter 5

"...and then he hit me." I say to Porter, finishing up explaining how the first altercation with Evan turned out. We're sitting on Amy's couch, whilst Amy watches America's Next Top Model reruns.

He's speechless, merely opening his mouth and shaking his head. "Are you serious?" he starts.

I'm wishing that I wasn't. "Too serious," I say. "And then, he had the nerve to apologise."

"That's not the issue, Marilyn," Porter says, "The issue is, what kind of man would lay a finger on someone like you? I mean, you told me what happened that day, and you're shy! You wouldn't do anything to harm anyone!"

"True," I say.

"Mari, Evan's a sick bastard. I don't think you need him in your life."

"You don't have to tell me twice," I retort. "Now that someone finally ratted on him, I can have a life again."

"That's the spirit," Amy calls from her seat.

I laugh. "Thanks."

"Still, Marilyn," Porter persists, "how could you let this go on for so long?"

"I don't know," I say. "I guess I got used to it. It hasn't been this bad in a while."

"How do you get used to getting the living dog shit pounded out of you every day?"

When he puts it like that, I'm embarrassed.“Well not everyone can live the fucking glamorous life! I bet you’ve never had to work for shit, have you?!” I shout, not wanting to be an embarrassment to myself any longer.

I get up to walk to the bedroom, Porter noticing how I probably look - eyes low, head down, with a fast walk - and following close behind. I lie down on the bed and cover my face with a pillow, not wanting to hear what he has to say. "What?" I asked, pissed.

Porter sits down on the bed. "I'm sorry for saying it like that," he says. "But I just couldn't believe that you, of all people, would allow this to happen. And for your information, I have had to work for shit. I'm not famous from a sex tape." He chuckles, attempting to make a joke, but his laughter diminishes after he sees that I'm not completely in the joking mood yet.

"Yeah, nothing bad ever happens in your perfect fucking life, does it, Mr. I've-Never-Heard-Of-Abuse?"

Porter sighs. "Sit up," he commands, and I obey, reluctantly. I look at him intently, wanting him to see the cuts and bruises on my face. He starts again.

"Look, I'm sorry Marilyn, I just need to understand. And you're right - I've never met someone who's had it this bad. I don't want to come off as rude or mean or-"

"Shut up," I say, giving him a hug to illustrate that all is well. "I understand."

"I just...I just want to help you."

"Just be a friend to me and don't say anything outlandish. That's helpful enough."

"Are you sure?" Porter asks. "I mean, when I get my hands on Evan, I swear to God I'll -"

"Porter!" I shout, laughing so hard that I fall back onto the bed. "It's okay!"

"I like it when you say my name," he chuckles, wanting to have joking mannerisms but looking down at me with soft, serious, caring eyes.

"Porter, Porter, Porter," I say in a humorous tone. "There. I hope you're ecstatic."

He smirks, chuckling again. "You really are something, Marilyn."

"Well, how do you mean?"

"You just are."

I shake my head. “Sure I am."