...and she's just my type. [Adam Yauch / OC]

Time to get ill

A/N; This chapter doesn't have Adam in it. I try to keep it short.
TW notice, Physical abuse. I tried to keep it not as graphic but oh well. It's kinda graphic. Triggering if this sort of situations do something for you.

September 1987. Los Angeles.

My pager beeps several times a day, and it's usually Adam. We're not dating, because I can't leave LA and he has his whole life in New York, but we're definitely something. Something only him and I know. Or at least, I believed that was the case. My peacefulness in my apartment gets disrupted by some heavy knocking on the door. It's botherline scary. I rush to the door and find my agent of the other side. As soon as I open the door, his hand slaps my face and I step back trying to get away from him. What the fuck did I do?

"Are you fucking stupid? Did you really believe you could make a fool out of me?", he yells, walking inside and closing the door behind him. "I... I... No", I try to say, the fear making my voice crack. "What the fuck is this, then? What did I fucking told you about these guys?". He throws a magazine to me and I now see what he means. Apparently, there was a photographer reporting on the Beastie Boys/Run DMC Tour closure, and grabbed some pictures of Adam and me. How? I don't remember seeing cameras or having my picture taken. The how it's unimportant now. He did warned me. If the Beasties were not willing to pay for me, they were not getting me. "I paid for that trip, for you to go and meet New York, not for you to go and FUCK New York FOR FREE" - "Oh, so the only difference that matters is that he's not paying you to use me?", I regret my words as soon as they come out. And he makes me regret them shortly after. I try to get out of his reach, but he's bigger and faster than me. He grabs me by my hair and starts throwing punches. I finally get away from him and make space between us so that he can't get a hold on me again.

"This is it. I'm done. Fuck you. I don't want to do this anymore", I say while the tears come down my cheeks. I'm not going to take this anymore. I'm tired of living in fear. "You can't quit", he claims. But I shake my head. I won't take a no for an answer. "Unless you kill me, and take my body there, I won't meet up with anyone. I'm done." He laughs at me, but I'm not stepping down of this. I'm not working with him ever again. "You know I have the power to ask everyone in the business to NOT work with you?". His words do make me doubt, but in my head something tells me that if he's that powerful, he would had made me a star by now. "Tell them, I don't care. I'm done." He stared at me, before he turns around. I take a deep breath, in a way thrilled he's actually leaving, before he grabs a flower vase and throws it at me. The glass shatters everywhere, and I immediately notice the pain in my leg where a piece has incrusted itself. He continues throwing things he can get a hold into, before speaking again. "You're so fucking stupid. We were this close to get you in. We were this close to get you to date one of Hollywood's finest. And everything is ruined because you wanted to fuck a guy that has a different girl in every town of America. So now, you're unemployed, unloved, unfucked. Good luck with your life! I hope a night with the Beasties was worth it". He finally turned around to walk away, but when he had his hand on the door knob, I threw one last dagger at him. "Yeah, one night with him was a million times better than all the ones with you". I shouldn't had said that. He turned and chased me around my own apartment. When he got hold of me, he put his hand on my neck and gripped it to the point where I couldn't breathe. He pushed me against the wall and kept putting on pressure until I felt my body shutting down. Shit, I don't wanna die.