𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 , 𝟖𝟎𝐬

28 = sleepless

[ tw ! talks of sexual assault and drug abuse ]

SATURDAY, AUGUST 29th 1987

my eyes fluttered open at the same time the smell of bacon filled my nose. it took my mind a little bit to comprehend where i was until bits and pieces of last night flooded my memory.

i slowly sat up and pulled a blanket around my shoulders. my brain felt cloudy, almost like a hangover but just in my head, not my body.

the sizzling of the stove ended and i heard a few more clangs of silverware before jason appeared in the doorway of his room i was in.

"you're awake." he smiled, seeing me sitting up, "i made us some food."

"you didn't have to." i smiled as he came to sit next to me.

"well, i was hungry and figured you must be starving so." he said, handing me a plate of bacon and a bagel.

"thank you." i smiled at him but then noticed the dark circles under his eyes, "are you tired?"

"very."

"didn't you sleep?" i giggled, taking a bite of bacon but he shook his head no.

"i stayed up all night until like 7 and then passed out for about an hour."

"why would you do that?"

"to watch your breathing. make sure you were okay through the night because i don't even exactly know what you were on last night."

i frowned and felt an immense amount of guilt hang on my chest.

"i'm so sorry." i mumbled, looking down at my food.

"i just want you to talk to me, brandy. i just wanna know what's been going on. it's been awhile since that day i picked you up from set, that's when this all started, didn't it?"

i sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around my body.

"so what happened that day?"

"jason-"

"please." he lifted my chin up to look at him, "you know you can tell me anything."

my mind began to race of ways i should tell him, but i didn't even know how to start the sentence. my stomach turned and i felt a wave of nausea wash over me.

"fuck." i mumbled before clumsily climbing out of his bed and running to his bathroom.

jason's a sweet guy. almost too sweet since he followed me into the bathroom to comfort me once again as i threw up. this moment, as gross as it is, reminded me of the night at the party i was forced on stage to sing. i got sick that night too, and jason was right there with me. he's always been here for me.

"you okay?" he asked as i flushed the toilet.

i lazily leaned back against the wall, "the director, you know, of my movie ..." i looked up at jason who stood in the door frame, "raped me. on set."

i watched as a mix of sadness and a shit ton of anger showed on jason's face. i stood up and walked over to his sink.

"i've been trying to numb the pain in an unhealthy way-" i opened the cabinet below his sink, "do you have mouthwash?"

he gave me a look, wondering why i was being so nonchalant. i watched as he opened the mirror and grabbed me the bottle of mouthwash.

"thanks."

"i'm so sorry that happened to you." he spoke as i swished the minty liquid inside my mouth, "do you want me to kill him? because i'll kill him, i swear to go-"

i spit into the sink and turned on the faucet. "no." i laughed a little, "he'll get what's coming to him."

"it happened that night? the night i picked you up and you were crying?"

i nodded my head, "he said we needed to get new scripts that were being printed in one of the back offices."

"that fucking asshole fuckface." jason gritted his teeth, "that was what he used to get you alone? scripts?"

"i mean, there were printed scripts in there waiting for me ..." i shrugged and then noticed the anger basically radiating off of jason's body, "but yeah."

he pulled me into his chest for a tight hug.

"if you ever need anything you can always come to me. you know that, right?"

i nodded up at him, "thank you."

he gave me a soft smile and planted a kiss on my forehead, "i should probably get you home."