One Shots with Chris Evans

What Do I Deserve?

TW: Domestic abuse.  

The banging on the door only makes Constance sink further into her bed, wishing nothing more than to drown out the annoyance that feels deafening with the ache in her head. Sitting up for only a moment, the room begins to spin, causing her to grab the pillow and place it over her head once she flops back down. 

  "I know you're home, Connie! Open the door!"

  The male's voice makes her heart race, causing a cower of fear to course through her veins. She grabs her phone, debating on whether to call the police or just a friend to help keep her calm. Surely he wouldn't want to hurt her in broad daylight. No, he saves that for the night. But then she also remembers, her friends have no idea about the pain she endures. The anguish he puts her through with his words, and his fists. 

  Another swift hit to the door, this time coming from Damon's boot makes Constance actually wince as she thinks about the day those same boots found her ribs. 

  She slips from her bed, moving to the bathroom as quietly as she possibly can, knowing that even the smallest sound can be heard from outside her small apartment. 

  "Come on, Connie! I owe you an apology. Open the door so I can give it to you the right way!"

  For a moment her steps falter. She looks back and forth between the phone in her hand, 911 just waiting to be contacted, and the door where the man who has been a part of her life for the last two years stands. Turning to her left, a quick glimpse of herself in the full length mirror brings her back to why her head is spinning the way it is, making her stomach churn. 

  A push against her shoulders having sent her stumbling backwards, tripping over her own feet before the side of her head finds the corner of an end table at Damon's home. 

  She pauses, trying to remember what she did to ensue the shove and the huge bruise against her hairline and temple. Oh, right. She asked him to come with her to her sister's engagement party tonight. 

  Damon apparently felt that a verbal reminder of his plans to go to a basketball game wasn't enough to prove his point, thus resulting in the damage to Constance's face. 

  "Come on, Connie! I've got your favorite tea from that place down the road. I'm sorry, okay.  I'll make sure I'm at Millie's next engagement party," he laughs out from the other side of the door. 

  Making a joke over the fact that this is Millie's second engagement doesn't sit well considering her first fiancee was killed in a car accident right after their college graduation. 

  "Go away, Damon!" 

  "Connie, I know you. You want this tea, babe."

  She fights back the bile that continues to threaten to rise further up her chest as he uses the nickname she hates, both Connie and babe.  

It's hard to enjoy a term of endearment when he uses it while violently assaulting her. 

  Getting further fed up, she whips the door open, grabs the drink out of his hand and slams the door once more. Or, at least tried. 

  Damon's black booted foot stops it at the last moment. "That's not how we say thank you, babe. I know your manners are better than that. I taught you better than that." He walks further into the small one bedroom apartment, causing Constance to back up with each step he takes closer, the door slamming loudly behind him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Constance strolls carefully into her sister's engagement party, teetering uncharacteristically in her heels due to the ache in her ankle. She's stopped at the restaurant's check in desk, requesting her coat and handbag. She willingly passes her jacket off, but informs the young man she'll be holding onto her purse. 

   Spotting her mother and father across the way she makes a beeline for them, moving slower than normal. Before she can even get wrapped in her parent's arms her mother is already asking why she's walking so strangely. 

  "I twisted my ankle earlier."

  "Forgot to put away your ballet shoes again?" her father teases, kissing her temple while wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She smiles against the pain of where his hand rests, and agrees with his joke as she remembers she used that excuse a couple months ago. 

  "You need a bigger place, honey. It's hardly enough room for you to rehearse in," her mother reminds her.

  "It's big enough for now. That's what studios are for, Ma." She flicks her head off to the side, seeing her sister walk in, hand in hand with her soon to be husband, Alex.

  Constance's heart aches as she sees how happy her sister is with Alex. They're a match made in heaven, everything that she thought she'd have with Damon.  

  Millie catches the eye of her sister and trots over quickly, hugging her tightly. Constance winces from the squeeze, but laughs it off by faking happy tears of joy over her sister's happiness. 

  "Where's Damon?" Millie asks, her head moving in different directions trying to spot him in the crowd. 

  "He already had plans, and couldn't get out of them."

  "Work again, huh? I swear it seems like every time we have a family function he's too busy with work," she sighs, not paying any attention to the fact that her sister didn't actually agree with the assessment. "Oh! Before I forget, he's gonna be here."

  "He who, Millie?" 

  Before she can answer, a thick Boston accent interrupts them both. "Milledgeville!"

  Constance's heart falls to the pit of her stomach as she recognizes the voice of the man she pushed away years ago.