The Fence || h. s.

14 || A Minor Setback

"Okay, deep breaths Sal, what happened?" I press, putting both of my hands on her shoulders.

"How c-can you b-be so calm?!" she stammers, trying to compose herself enough to speak.

"Because I don't know what happened?" I say gently. "So how about you sit down, and just tell me what's wrong, okay?"

She bites her lip, following me into the living room where I promptly force her into a seating position on my sofa.

"Where's your phone?" Her eyes swipe around the room, a look of recognition crossing her face. "I tried to call you… You turned it off again, didn't you?"

"Yea, my sorry excuse of a mother has been trying to call all day," I explain, and when she fails to say anything in response, I feel my heartbeat quicken.

Something is wrong.

My leg starts bouncing uncontrollably as I sit down next to her, growing more and more tense by the minute. Now would be the time to check my phone, but I physically can't force myself to pick it up from my bedroom. It's like one of those moments where you feel like you're standing on the edge of a cliff, and if you take just one more step, you'll fall to your death. I can't take that step.

"Sal, just fucking say it," I mumble, bracing myself for the worst.

"I'm…" she whimpers, lowering down to hide her face in her lap. "I'm so, so, so sorry! This is all my fault! If you hadn't tried to help me- oh god."

Her muffled crying once again breaks my heart, but this time, I ignore it. Her own phone will give me all the answers I need. Tapping in her screen lock code, I am horrified by the first image that pops up.

Myself, half-naked, with my entire back and ass on display. Posted on VIP Model Agency's twitter page, led by none other than Matthew Baker.

"What- how in the world?" I whisper.

My stomach tightens at the next images I see: a sultry look over the shoulder; a flash of side boob; a shot of my bare upper body covered merely by my unzipped dress, all in a seemingly sexual manner.

These are all the photographs that Ryan had taken of me on the beach weeks ago, edited in a way that makes them look like a damn Playboy magazine photoshoot. Even more so, some of the pictures have been clearly tempered with—I am pretty sure they had erased the back of my dress from at least two shots, just to make it seem like I was actually naked. Of course, it's all done in a way that's nearly impossible to spot to an unpracticed eye.

"This is bullshit," I mumble with a grim frown, "These are not the photos we took. I mean, they are, but he messed with them…"

More silence follows, even more tense than before. My heart is already threatening to escape my chest, and I haven't even gotten to the worst part yet: the comments.

"I swear I did not tell him you were involved in the lawsuit," Sally sniffs slightly, looking at me through a pair of glossy eyes. "I don't know how he found out."

"I do," I sigh, trying to appear indifferent, more so for her sake than my own. "He called me after the interview; I guess he just realised that I am the only one with the actual means to help you out."

"He called you?!" she gasps. "You didn't tell me!"

"I didn't want to worry you…"

A good thing, too, since apparently we have a lot to fret about.

"What did you tell him?" she asks next.

I want to tell her all about how I threatened him. I want to tell her that I once again acted upon my impulses, without fully thinking it through. I also want to tell her that instead of keeping my mouth shut for once, I may have only added more fuel to the fire.