"Brandon?" I whispered through the hand covering my mouth, trying to twist my head to see the stranger behind me, but the person slammed my head forward against the wall, stopping me from searching any further.
Instant pain shot through my head like a bullet as it cracked against the cool bricks in front of me, and soon after, hot wet fluid dripped down my face, landing directly on my cheek; I didn't need a mirror to know it was blood.
Terror washed over me, raising the fine hairs on my arms the moment I heard his throaty chuckle bounce off the walls around us and felt his hot breath fanning against the back of my neck.
It was Brandon, my worst fucking nightmare.
Brandon was my ex, the ex that cheated on me with my best friend at my father's funeral in the back of his car. My heart broke twice that day, seeing the two people I cared about most betray me on a day filled with so much grief already.
I never thought Brandon was capable of cheating on me, but I was the typical naive girlfriend that never noticed the multiple red flags he showed me.
The first year of our relationship was perfect. There wasn't one moment we spent apart, and the rare times we did, he'd be texting me until we were back together again. He was the perfect boyfriend. Sweet, caring, knew his way around words making you feel as if you were the center of his universe, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.
As we got into our second year of dating, he started to become controlling. Wondering where I was at certain times, telling me who I can and can't talk to whether they were my friend or not. Telling me which of my outfits were appropriate and which weren't.
One day I couldn't take it anymore and confronted him about it, which led to him slapping me across my face. Before I could react, he began apologizing profusely, telling me that he didn't mean it and that it was an accident.
Tears flowed down his cheeks as he begged me for forgiveness, and so I did. I forgave him and moved on as if nothing happened, which was my first mistake.
Our relationship returned to normal, leading into the third year, exactly how it was when we first started dating. He wasn't the controlling person he used to be.
He was more attentive, gentle, showed me affection every second of the day until I completely forgot he ever put his hands on me. That is until he did it again. I remember distinctly it was a Friday night, and I had just found out my father died from a heart attack.
My phone was blowing up from all his contacts, wondering what was going to be next for Faye Industries, was I going to take over or should they start looking for a new job? But I didn't have answers for anyone because I didn't know myself. Just like them, my entire world had changed, and to say I was stressed would've been an understatement.
Brandon came home drunk that night, wanting to have sex, but I told him no, that I was busy and needed to figure out what I was going to do since the passing of my father.
But Brandon being Brandon, the controlling, short-tempered person he is, didn't like that answer. He grabbed me by my hair and slammed me against the wall constricting my movements.
I remember feeling his hot breath fanning against the back of my neck. I remember the strong stench of beer radiating through his pores as he nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck. I remember how hot his tongue felt when he licked my cheek as if I was a dessert, getting ready to devour me whole, but I knew I had the advantage of being sober, so I did what any sane person would do.
I kneed him in the balls and watched as he crumpled down in pain, but as soon as I moved to run away, he caught me; I was too slow. It was at that moment when I thought I was going to die, but I didn't. Instead, he began crying again, telling me how sorry he was and that he was planning on getting help because I deserved better from him.
He knew all the right words to say to get me to stay, and it worked because I stayed right by his side. He was a master manipulator, but I was too naive to realize it. I had just lost my father, I didn't want to lose my boyfriend as well.
I comforted him that night as we laid in bed. Even though I was the one that lost a loved one, lost my only living parent, and almost got raped by the boy lying next to me because he couldn't take no for an answer. I stayed up and comforted him until he peacefully fell asleep in my arms as I laid awake in tears, grieving.
The following week, the day of the funeral was the last I'd ever seen of him. I couldn't take it anymore, all the lies and manipulation just for him to go behind my back and betray me after everything I'd done for him, enough was enough. I left my home town right after that and never looked back. Broke all ties with everyone I've ever known and focused solely on my father's company that I newly inherited.
I never thought my past would come to bite me in the ass until now.
Brandon finally released his hand from around my mouth and flipped me around, my back now pressing against the wall.
"What the fuck do you want?" I finally whispered, feeling my heart hammer out of my chest as I looked up at his towering figure. Deep purple bags hung low under his dark eyes as if he hadn't slept in years.
His face that was once full of life and color was now pale and sunken in, his blonde hair was greasy, sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his lips were so chapped they were starting to split open. He literally looked like death.
"Don't act like you didn't miss me," he croaked, flashing me a mouthful of yellow teeth. If I hadn't recognized his voice, I would've never thought this was the Brandon I dated, the Brandon that took pride in his appearance.
My body started to tremble as he closed the distance between us, lowering his head until it was level with mine. My head spun as soon as his sour stench hit my nostrils with the faint scent of beer, forcing me to hold my breath as he stared down at me.
"What happened to you?" I dared to ask, feeling my teeth chatter in fear as I frantically began searching for my phone in my pocket but keeping my eyes trained on him. If he figured out I was attempting to call for help, that'd be it.
"You happened to me, Stazi, you fucking happened to me," he growled, slamming his fist against the brick wall right by the side of my head. I flinched back and squeezed my eyes shut as sweat began dripping down my forehead along with the blood from my injured head. My heart was throbbing in my ears, loud and irregular, but I barely heard it; my mind was too busy clouded with fear.
"That's funny," I chuckled bitterly, forcing my eyes open to look at the monster inches away from my face while I triple clicked the side button on my phone to activate the SOS feature. "I distinctly remember you fucking my best friend in the back of your car, not the other way around."
I watched as his cracked lips curled in anger, followed by the slight twitch in his eye, a clear indication that his thin patience had run out with me.
"What the fuck did you say to me?" He snarled, wrapping his large hand around my throat and lifted me off the ground, completely constricting my airway.
My feet thrashed around, desperately trying to find the solid ground I once stood on as my lungs screamed at me to breathe, but it was impossible. I clawed my fingers at his hands uselessly, but in the process, my phone, the same phone I was using to call for help, slipped out of my pocket and landed directly at his feet.
Fuck.
"And what do we have here?" Brandon glanced down at the ground and released his hold on me to pick up my misplaced item. As soon as he saw the SOS screen counting down the seconds until help arrived, he hurled my phone against the brick wall, smashing it into tiny bits and pieces—smashing away any chance of anyone finding me until it was too late.
"Brandon," I breathed, as my eyes darted from the remnants of my phone in his hands to his face, wracking my head for an excuse, an excuse good enough for him to believe, but my brain my frozen; I couldn't think, all I could do was breathe as much air as I possibly could before he took it away again.
"You fucking bitch!" He growled, panting heavily as he gripped a handful of my hair and threw me to the ground.
Before I had time to defend myself, he bent down and grabbed my hair again, forcing me back on my feet before pinning me against the wall with his hand around my throat but not tight enough to constrict my airway. My head was throbbing out of control, but I did my best to ignore the painful sensation.
"You fucking left me!" He shoved me further against the wall and ran a hand through his greasy hair, looking down at me with pain in his eyes, trying to play the victim just like years before.
My first instinct was to lie, say anything to calm him down, but I couldn't. I was done hiding, done being manipulated by him.
"Because you're a piece of shit," I mumbled, as my head hung low, I didn't have enough energy to keep it up.
"What did you just say?" He questioned angrily, pulling my hair and forcing me to look up at his pale face.
An explosion of pain erupted through my head as his grip on my hair tightened; I could feel my eyes rolling backward, but I continued anyway.
"I should've left you a long time ago, but I was too blind to see that you were a fucking piece of shit, you didn't deserve me, you don't deserve anyone. I hope you spend the rest of your miserable, pathetic ass life alone and die that way because that's the only thing someone as sick as you deserve."
"Take that back, Stazi," He whispered calmly, curling his fist beside him.
The inner voice inside my head screamed at me to take it back and listen to him, but I couldn't. I needed to stand up to him just as I stood up to Nathaniel despite how it ended.
"Fuck you, Brandon," I spat as my eyes bored into his letting it be known that I wasn't afraid anymore and meant every word I said.
"Bitch!"
A sharp splitting pain radiated through my face as I crumpled to the ground; it took only a few seconds to realize he had smacked me with the back of his hand, making sure I felt the rings on his fingers. My head felt like it was on fire, like millions of needles were piercing my skin at once, and it suddenly became difficult to breathe.
"You've always been weak," Brandon laughed wickedly, squatting down to get a good look at my battered body. "I knew you'd never leave me, all it took was a few crocodile tears, and you came running back every...single...time."
A boiling fury swelled inside of me, hearing those words spew from his rotting mouth.
"So imagine my surprise when you finally found the courage to leave after I fucked Lauren, which wasn't the first time, by the way."
Brandon reached over and gripped my chin so I could see the small smirk plastered on his face. I snatched my head from his grimey hand, shying away from his touch, which made him belt out in laughter.
"I've been keeping tabs on you ever since you left," he continued slouching against the wall next to me as if we were two friends sharing secrets. "Just waiting for the right moment to surprise you."
"Why are you here?" I whispered, my voice rough from the beating I'd taken.
"To take you back, you belong to me and me alone," he finally answered honestly, tearing his gaze away from me to look up at the dark starry sky.
Brandon's first mistake was coming to kidnap me while drunk, and his second, was taking his eyes off of me, assuming I wasn't a threat anymore. Even though my body ached and felt heavy, like weights were holding down every limb attached to me, it was now or never.
I could feel the flight responses kick in, increasing my heart rate, flooding me with added adrenaline as I reached over and slammed his head against the wall, making him gasp in pain, but I knew that wasn't enough. I took a deep breathed and pushed through the intense discomfort as I lifted myself off the ground and swung my leg back, letting it collide directly into his manhood.
Brandon howled, writhing in pain on the ground as he clutched his injured body part in his palms. Spit flew out of his mouth through his clenched teeth as the vein in his neck threatened to pop out.
"Go to fucking hell, Brandon," I whispered before staggering out of the alley back onto the boardwalk.
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