Beautiful

Chapter 13

{Present Day}

I wake up the next day in Theo's arms. "Morning gorgeous," I hear. My eyes open and meet his immediately.

"Hi," I respond. He smiles and gently pecks my lips with his. He lays back down. His head rests next to mine, his lips rest on my cheek. After the premier, we ordered room service and a movie in his room. I ended up falling asleep as soon as it ended. He gave me his shirt to sleep in so that I didn't have to get up and go change in my room.

"We have to start getting ready," he says against my cheek.

"Mmm, okay," I said as I roll over to face him and snuggle closer to him. He laughs a little.

"Babe, that means we have to get up," he says with a smile.

"Ugghh," I groan against his chest. He chuckles at my unwillingness to get up.

I slowly throw the covers off and go to my room. I quickly get ready and throw on a grey sweater, red jeggings, and black thigh-high boots. Our teams said it'll be chilly at our next location. I straighten my naturally curly hair and put on some red lipstick with black mascara.

Once I'm satisfied with myself, I pack my things back up and head out into the hallway. Theo and Layla are standing in the elevator and the doors start to close. He makes eye contact with me and quickly catches the doors before they close. I smile at him and hurry into the elevator.

"Thank you," I say. He takes my hand in his and squeezes.

"You're welcome," he says and kisses my hand. I lean my head on his shoulder. Layla rolls her eyes at us.

"Oh my God, barf," she says. I giggle at her immaturity.

We finally reach the lobby and she stalks out as soon as the doors open. Our teams wait by the hotel doors. "The cars are already here," Camille says.

"Thank God. Bye sweetie," Layla says as she steps forward and intensely kisses Theo on the lips.

I'm instantly filled with rage. All I can see is red. I don't care that the press are watching. I don't care that my team and Theo are here watching. I just don't care. I'm so sick of everyone in my life treating me like I'm a doormat, like I don't matter. So, I snap.

I don't even think before I act. I take her arm, yank her away from him, and punch that bitch square in the face. She stumbles back and grabs her face. When she moves her hand away, I can see her nose is pouring blood and is starting to turn purple.

"You crazy, psycho bitch!" she shrieks. I launch at her but Theo holds me back.

"Babe, babe, baby, it's okay," he says trying to get me to chill the hell out. Once I've calmed down, he looks around and, once he's sure no one else is looking at us, he looks directly into my eyes. "That was badass," he says. We both let out a mix between a light laugh and a breath.

"Ow my nose hurts!" she whines from across the room. Her team escorts her into one of the jet black cars and speeds away.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

"Yeah," I say, shaking out my hand.

"We'll get you some ice on the plane, okay," he says.

"Okay," I say and we make it to our car and drive quickly to the airport.

We are sitting with our teams, waiting on our plane, when Camille says, "we need to focus on damage control when we get to Chicago." I quickly turn my head to look at her.

"Chicago?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's our next location. It wasn't confirmed until, like, two days ago," Theo says on my other side. 

"Now boarding Flight 925," the flight attendant says.

"Oh," I say in a small voice. As we stand, I ask Camille, "will the police be there for security?" She doesn't look up from her phone when she nods at me. That means the chief of police will be there. He will be there. He has to know I'm coming. He has to be waiting for me. And that thought is terrifying.

We all walk down the gateway to board our plane. Once we're on the plane, Theo holds on to my hand while I stare out the window and worry about the two days ahead of me.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks me. I turn my head and force a small smile on my face. I nod and he gives me a look like he can tell I'm lying to him. "I'm tired, can I use you as a pillow?" he asks which makes me smile for real.

I nod my head and say, "yes." He smiles his beautiful smile at me.

"There it is," he says and leans his head on me. My brain is too anxious for me to get any sleep.

When the plane lands, I feel a strange mix of relief and nausea. I'm scared out of my mind but I'm ready to get this show over with. The drive to our hotel is short because it's closer to the airport than the last one. Marc goes and checks us in and brings us two separate room keys.

Once we're in the elevator, Theo says, "hey."

"Hi," I say with a smile as I turn and face him.

"So I was thinking, what would you say if I were to tell Marc and Camille that we don't need separate rooms?" he asks as he twiddles his thumbs. He can't look me in the eye. He's nervous. Around me of all people!  I smile at him.

"I'd say that I don't have any objection," I say still smiling. The feelings I have for him are a welcome relief from the overwhelming sense of fear.

We arrive at our floor a second later. We enter our once again adjoining rooms. All at once, the reality sets in. It all becomes too much.  Now that I'm alone, there's no one to distract me from my anxiety.

I don't want to do it. I don't mean too. I stopped doing this a long time ago, but now I can't help it. I ran to the bathroom and forced myself to throw up for the first time in a year and a half. Once I'm done, I feel awful. My body feels so heavy and tired. My vision is hazy and it's not because of my contacts.  If I was skinnier this wouldn't be an issue. So I throw up again. I don't feel any better but I manage to pull myself up to the sink to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth out with mouth wash. The second I'm done, I can't hold myself up anymore and collapse back down on the ground and start crying. I sob and sob and sob.

Sean would always tell me that I wasn't ever skinny enough or pretty enough. I have always been an insecure person but he made it so much worse. A year after he started beating me on a regular basis, my doctor at the time diagnosed me with bulimia nervosa, after one of my many hospital visits. I was obsessed with food. I was terrified of it and wouldn't eat for days, but, once I got some, I wouldn't be able to stop eating it. Then I'd make myself throw up to get rid of it.

A year and a half later and he still controls my life. That is infuriating. I can't stop crying. All I can think about is how sad and scared and angry and hurt I am. All of that makes me cry harder and harder. I feel limp and numb and that old feeling creeps back in. That feeling I got when I lived with him. That feeling of helplessness, that things would never, ever get any better.

All of a sudden, I feel strong arms wrap around me. "It's okay, baby. Whatever it is it'll be okay," Theo says as he pulls me into his lap. I shake my head but find myself unable to form words. I can't do anything but cry.

"Shh shh, sweetheart. It's okay."