CAMDEN KENT
One Year & Three Months Ago
"Are you mad?"
Whipping into a parking spot, Brandon closed his eyes to laugh. "What the fuck do you think, Camden?"
"Do you want me to–"
"Just wait here," he removed his seatbelt and yanked on the door handle to get out.
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, honestly wondering how both of us could be so irresponsible. He knew I was still waiting for my new birth control prescription to come in the mail, yet he was still so confident in his ability to pull out last night. Me? Not so much. I didn't have a good feeling about it, and now he was pissed that he had to buy me Plan B. He was pissed about spending the money for it.
At the very thought of being pregnant, I looked down at my flat stomach and made a face of disdain as I covered my midsection with my arm. I would have thought after being together for so many years I wouldn't be so repulsed by the idea of having my boyfriend's baby, but there I was anyway, trying not to gag.
"Jesus Christ," I exhaled as his phone buzzed loudly in his center consul, grabbing it to see my best friend's name pop up on the screen.
My brows pulled together as I lifted my own phone to see if maybe she was trying to get ahold of me first, but my screen was blank. Without thinking about it too much, I entered in his passcode to see the text.
Kayla: Hey, are you still with her? I miss youuuuuu! Come over tonight pls
The phone was frozen in my hands, but I could see my chest start to rise and fall more rapidly as I read the text over and over and over again, trying to think of a viable excuse for her to send a message to my boyfriend with those words in that specific order.
Seeing as it wasn't the first text between them, I scrolled up to see more of what I already wished I hadn't. Kayla's underwear, Kayla naked, Brandon's dick in his hand, videos from both parties, the word "cum" too many times, my own name too many times.
"Mother fucker," I exhaled, nearly dropping the phone as I heard the car unlock.
I scrambled to exit out of the messages to place Brandon's phone back the way I found it, staring at him as he sighed and settled back in the car. He placed the plastic Target bag in my lap and closed his door in a huff.
"You're welcome," he said.
Suddenly, I understood why women went to prison for castrating or murdering their husbands or boyfriends or whatever type of man did them wrong. I felt the tip of my nose twitch as I watched him reverse out of his parking spot, and again as I watched him blink, and breathe, and scratch his forehead.
"Thanks for buying it," I finally replied, to which he merely grunted in response.
"You should pay for at least half. I mean, that's what we do with our groceries."
For a brief moment, I wondered how much I really valued my own life versus the satisfaction I would feel to reach out and strangle him with my bare hands as he drove. Right then and there, I believed that I could do it. I believed that I was capable of murder.
But instead, I kept my composure and looked out the windshield at the purple mountains far up in the distance on our way home. My body simply continued to function mechanically as I recalled all the nights Brandon told me he was going out with the guys, all the nights I ignored the fact that he came home smelling like cheap perfume.
