Brooke sat there in revelation while I retold the story for the third time. Seemed like the millionth.
"Oh! That's so sad! But guess what! I've finally got enough money for a plane ticket to London and my share of the apartment! Have you?" Brooke squealed with delight.
"I am waiting for my last paycheck and we'll be good to go! I just have to tell my family. And break up with Weston... Did you tell yours yet?" I inquired.
"I did, but they were fine with it, and that I have to come visit often." Brooke replied. She seemed so excited, and I didn't want to disappoint her. My parents were clingy, and the fact that I'm an only child didn't make it any better.
I came to the realization that today was the day that my check would come. My heart skipped a beat as I excitedly ran outside with Brooke following, in my black shirt that read "wink. wink." and sweatpants that I slept in last night.
There was only one letter in the mailbox and it was addressed to "Charlotte Dunham, Baltimore, Maryland".
I opened it carefully and looked over my paycheck. It was just enough to leave extra cash after the plane ticket and apartment.
"Yes! It's enough!" I yelled and did a happy dance with Brooke. She was starting to make a checklist of things to do before we go.
"You need to break up with Weston, chat with your parents, and quit your job. I need to just quit my job and that's all! Can you believe it? We're so close to our dream!" she spoke softly, her voice breathy.
This will be harder than I thought, "Brooke, will you come with me to Weston's house please? I-I can't do this alone." I started messing with the hem of my shirt, becoming unstable and fearful.
"Uh, sure. But I'm not gonna let you get hurt again." she whispered. Brooke was the only one who knew about how abusive Weston is. The time I can home from his house with a broken wrist and a bruise, I called Brooke and told her everything. When I cried to my parents about the pain I just told them that I fell down the stairs at Weston's house. And the worst part is that they believed me.
I nodded reluctantly and we both went up to my room. I decided that I would wear a pair of black leggings and a maroon colored pull-over, because it was getting quite chilly.
"I'm going out with Brooke!" I yelled when we both walked down the hall. All I got back was a half-hearted "ok" from my father.
My friend gave me a reassuring look and then we climbed in her car. I tried to think about what things there are to see in London: the Big Ben, London Eye, listening to their lovely accents...
I watched the trees fly by the window and thought about all of the nice people other than the iniquitous Weston. Brooke, Mom, Dad, and Rosemary. She was, is, my teddy bear from my youth. The bear that was gifted to me from my birth slept by me every night. She knows all of my secrets, old schoolgirl crushes, and she is my inanimate touchstone.
"We have reached our destination." Brooke reminded me of the woman's voice in the GPS, with the broken form of speech.
I closed my eyes and thought a silent prayer to God that this wouldn't end with both of us getting hurt. I took a few deep breaths and opened the car door.
Weston still lived with his parents, and it was weird considering that he was twenty one. I was only a year younger than him, with Brooke following close behind me.
I knocked on the door and waited. And waited. I didn't see a car in the driveway, but I decided to try the handle.
"Why would they have their door open?" I spoke over my shoulder to Brooke. She shrugged and I opened the door to the sweet smell of light candles and air freshener.
"Doesn't look like anyone's home..." I trailed off. All the lights were off except a plug-in nightlight in the kitchen.
After standing there for a few seconds, Brooke whispered, "Wait... can you hear that, Char?" she pointed up to the second story of the house.
I listened and sure enough there was the faint sounds of moans and screams coming from upstairs. My cheeks heated and I'm pretty sure my face turned beet red.
Brooke pushed me up the carpeted stairs and tiptoed over to his door. The unmistakable squeaking sounds of his bed gave it away.
There was a lump in my throat as I put my hand on the handle and turned. What I saw cannot be unseen. Weston and a girl that I didn't recognize were doing the dirty right there in his bed. At least I have a reason to break up with him now, except leaving the country.
"Weston?" I choked out, my throat tight.
His eyes shot to the door and he froze. I could see panic in his face, like a deer in headlights, and I closed the door.
"Out!" he screamed, "Get out of my bed, get out of my house!"
I always jumped out of my skin when he yelled. Now, I was just glad that it wasn't my fault. This time it brought back memories from a few months ago. It was his twenty first birthday, and he was already drunk. He wasn't the same person when he was under; there was an intrinsic layer to his personality that threatened everyone in his sight.
Brooke waved a hand in front of my face and snapped me back to reality. She mouthed, "Are you OK?"
I nodded right as the woman ran out of the small hallway wearing nothing but a croptop and boyshorts, her measly amount of clothes in her hands.
Weston leaned on the doorframe, drunken and spoke, "What are you two doing here?" His words slurred together, so it sounded more like, "What're ytwo do'n here?"
"Um, we came to, ah, talk to you about something. Something important." Brooke started rather nervously.
"Ok..." That's all that the man could get out before he started walking down the hall, and tripped.
Brooke and I met eyes, and I pursed my lips, "Yeah."

After Brooke and I lugged Weston on his bed, we decided it was time.
"Weston, I think it's time that we break up. After all the abuse, and what I just witnessed, I can't stay with you. You could go to jail for this."
He readjusted himself closer to me, and slapped me across the face, hard. My eyes started watering immediately and my hands shot up to my burning cheek.
I looked over to Brooke as Weston started shouting profanities at me, "You little bitch! The only reason you want to break this off is because. You! Are! A! Fuckin'! Whore!" With each break, he was shaking me by the shoulders.
Brooke punched him in the jaw, which he did not anticipate, and he hit his head on his headboard. The wood made a sickening cracking sound and I instinctively leaned forward to help him. Weston slapped my hands away and I withdrew.
Tears were spilling over my cheeks and violent sobs were shaking my body. Brooke pulled me up from my crumpled position and she ran me out of the house. We hastily got into her little black car and I had an even bigger meltdown, now realizing how I just lost a big part of my life.
"Honey, it's alright now, it's over. Shh. It's OK." Brooke comforted me. She hugged me until my convulsions and tears dulled down.
We both saw Weston stagger out of his house screaming, "This isn't over!" He was holding the side of his head with a disturbed look on his face.
Brooke rolled down the drivers side window and shouted, "Oh, I think it is!"
The last image of my first relationship was Weston vomiting all over his mother's marigold garden.
