Miss Jackson {b.u.}

{6}

It had been almost four months since Keaton asked me to be his girlfriend. And while it's had its good times, there had been a ton of bad times. I had moved into an apartment with him, which, is far too soon, but he convinced me otherwise. I walked into work, greeted by Alexandra with coffee, "Jo, don't forget you have an assignment due tonight by the end of the day."

I looked up at her and she gasped, then immediately put her hands on my face and my arms, "What the fuck happened? You have bruises all over you-"

"I fell down the steps yesterday," I began and scoffed, "what? you think Keaton's abusing me?"

"Sorry to say it, but yes," Alex began and took the coffee back, "he moved you into his apartment and you guys are shy five months of dating. That's a bit concerning."

I rolled my eyes and snatched the files out of her hand, "stay the fuck out of my love life."

I walked away from her and walked into the recording studio. I was scared Brendon would have the same reaction, but I didn't think the bruise was the noticeable. Brendon took me into a separate office and we stood five feet away from each other, "you finally finish those projects, Miss Jackson?"

"Yeah," I said and stuck my arm out for him to grab the files from my hand. His hand rested on the other end, but I could feel his eyes following the bruises. I quickly pulled away and crossed my arms.

"Miss Jackson, i'm going to ask this once and you better give me the goddamn truth," Brendon began and looked at me sternly, "why are there bruises on your arms and face?"

"Fell down the steps yesterday."

Brendon pushed his tongue against his cheek and shook his head, "i said the truth."

"that is the truth."

"He's hitting you, isn't he?"

I shook my head, "you know nothing."

I turned and walked out of the studio and walked back into my office. I hadn't had the nerve to tell anyone where my bruises came from—but they don't deserve the right to know. I slammed my office door and locked it. Praying that no one came in the rest of the day.

And thankfully nobody did. The sun was setting and I had realized I stayed later than normal. Keaton was going to kill me. I hurried out to my car, rushing out of the parking lot and to my apartment.

I fumbled with the keys, trying to unlock the door. I opened the door silently and closed it lightly behind me. I heard shuffling and I turned. Keaton emerged from the bedroom with his hands on his hips, visibly angry, "what the fuck took you so long?!"

"I got stuck doing on last outfit," I began and grabbed a pot, "don't get mad, i'm sorry."

"Don't get mad? Don't get mad?! You were fucking him weren't you!"

"Give it a fucking rest, Keaton!"

Keaton took the pot from me and slammed it on the ground denting the floor, "you're a fucking whore, Joanne. A fucking whore!"

I tried to bend down to grab the pot, but Keaton raised his hand and it went across my face. Blood spilled out of my mouth and I tried catching it in my hand. I got up quickly, spitting in the sink and washing my mouth off. I grabbed my bag and headed toward the door, "you're not leaving!" Keaton yelled and grabbed my arm, pulling me into the apartment more. I stared at him in disbelief.

He shoved me over the couch. I landed on my head. My eyes closed for a moment before I collected myself. I got up slowly, feeling dizzy. The room spun—even though I tried to focus on Keaton, "if you're gone when I get back, i'll fuckin' kill you."

I put my hand over my head and listened as the door slammed shut. Even though I felt like shit, I hurried to the room and grabbed a small suitcase and packed my bags. I was pretty sure I had a concussion, but that wasn't going to stop me. I packed almost all of my clothes and other things pretty quickly and made sure the coast was clear. I ran to my car. Throwing everything in there.

I looked down and knocked on the familiar door I had walked through two months ago. The door opened quickly. Tears welt in my eyes and Brendon pulled me into his apartment quickly, "can I stay with you for a while?"

"What happened, darling?" He asked, and sat me down on the couch, pulling me in for a hug. I'd never seen anyone so caring.

"I should just tell you the truth," I began and wiped my tears, "he...uh..."

He looked at me, and I could barely see him, "this whole time?" He asked and grabbed any part of my body and looked at it, "who could hurt this beautiful body, Miss Jackson?"

"I should go to the doctor." I said and began getting up, but the dizziness was too much for me. Brendon caught me and he made sure that I sat down again.

"Doctor? What happened?"

"Keaton hit me and then pushed me...over the couch."

"Let me see your pupils." He said and grabbed a flashlight. I pushed my head away and furrowed my eyebrows, "Miss Jack-"

"I'll go tomorrow. I just need to sleep tonight."

He nodded his head and walked to the kitchen, grabbing me a glass of water. He sat back down next to me and handed me the water. I took a few sips. He took it from me and put it on the coffee table, then turned the lights out. I felt him sit next to me and his hand rubbed my leg, "are you gonna be alright?"

"can you put a puke bucket next to me?"

Brendon got up and put a bucket near my mouth. He sat back down next to me and rubbed my back this time, "anything else, Miss Jackson? You've got the day off for a couple days."

"I-I can't be alone," I murmured and started crying, "he said he'd kill me."

Brendon's mood shifted and anger boiled over him, "i'll stay with you. I'll make sure everyone you know is safe."

"You still take care of me?"

"I think we both know why I still take care of you."

I chuckled and his hand rubbed my back slowly, "lay with me."

He hesitated, "are you sure?"

"lay with me, you idiot."

He laid behind me, wrapping his arm around me. His other hand played with my hair. His breath grazed against my skin and his lips pressed against the side of my ear, "was that so hard, Brendon?"

"No," he murmured and his voice flowed through my ears, "no, it's just, a little bit ago you said we can't do this."

I turned and laid against his chest. His hand caressed my cheek. His nose barely touched the tip of mine and our breaths were intertwining, "Am I too late to change my mind?"

"I would never tell you you're too late," He kissed my forehead and then pressed his against mine, "you'll always be on time for me."

I snuggled into the crook of his neck and he pressed himself against me, "Darlin' i'd wait for you. Even if you didn't ask me too..i'll always be here."

His hand rubbed my back and I slowly drifted into a deep slumber, regardless of how injured I was—Brendon seemed to fix it.