Breaking Down (Camren Short Story)

Chapter 1: But I Love Him

Obvious trigger warning for domestic abuse on the whole book. Be safe!

-

I had only been in love with one person.

One love seemed like enough for me. If one person could make me feel like flying, then why would I need somebody else?

Camila made me feel that way. But I hadn't felt like flying in a long time. Not since management set me up with Brad from The Vamps, a British boyband of which I only knew because Demi Lovato sang with them once. Apparently it would be good for his group because having him being with me would give them more attention.

When we were first introduced, he looked cute enough. As cute as a lesbian could think a guy could be, that is. He had a boyish smile, soft curly hair, and he seemed nice I guess.

Of course, management gave us our own relationship story to tell the media. We met while the girls and I traveled to London, and we ran into each other at a coffee shop. Creative, right? Brad asked me out that day, and we had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant. He dropped me off at my hotel, and kissed my cheek when he left.

None of that was true. Management told us that we would only have to interact at awards shows and go on the occasional publicity date, but Brad seemed to think I was actually interested in him.

But after my recent breakup, I accepted when he asked me on a real date.

He didn't kiss my cheek that night, he pushed me up against the wall and proceeded to forcefully make out with me. I reciprocated, but only barely. He was a bad kisser.

The girls gave me the third degree when he finally released me. They asked about everything. I didn't know why, but I said that I enjoyed the kissing. They were a little worried about his abruptness, but waved it off because he was British, and British guys were always more upfront. At least, according to Dinah.

"You'll be having sex by the third date!" She'd said excitedly.

They don't know how much worse it's gotten.

Sure, they've recognized that when I get back from one of our many "dates", I'm tired and they learned to leave me alone. Sometimes I stay out later than when he lets me leave him because I want it to be dark so they don't see the bruises.

So far, they haven't noticed.

They haven't noticed that my toiletries bag for when I'm on tour has doubled in size because it's now holding so many bandages and pain medications.

I've started sleeping more, but the dark circles keep intensifying. Our makeup artist tells me methods she uses to sleep better every time she sees me.

It's become more difficult for him to find places to hit me because of our stage outfits. He obviously can't hit my face, though he does sometimes, so he focuses his anger on my abdomen mostly.

But I love him.

-

"Lauren!"

I jolt out of my half-asleep stupor. Dinah's shouting at me. It was her day to wake up first, and her job to wake me up because I was second.

I lifted my body up, supporting myself with my forearms, and got ready to slip out of my bunk. Dinah's hand landed on my shoulder, hitting one of the bruises, and I whimpered and fell back down.

"Sheesh girl," she said. "I know I'm strong, but I'm not that strong."

I didn't say anything, but I got out of bed, steadying myself with Dinah's body when I sensed my legs shaking.