Ain't No Sharing You

Tell Me A Story

Once I entered the hospital room and looked at Ash I knew that she had lost the baby. I felt bad because I knew that Will was going to blame her even though he pushed her down the stairs and I was right. We could hear our husbands outside blaming her for the miscarriage. Will never said anything about pushing her, but pretended that he had no part in how Ash ended up falling down a flight of stairs. Again she was "clumsy" and "never paid attention to where she as going".

She had a concussion, a few bruises and a sprained ankle. She didn't want to talk so I just sat there and held her hand and we just communicated with our eyes. Anything verbal would've caused more drama and heartache for us both. I could tell that she was tired and she wanted to get away. She was scared because she knew that no matter what really happened SHE lost their baby. I told her that everything was going to be okay and held her hand as she cried. I understood that she wasn't crying because she lost her baby, but because God had answered her prayers. I sat there hoping that he would answer mine.

"Stop!" I begged through my tears as he continued to beat me with the belt. "Brandon, please?" I screamed trying to crawl to the door. He kicked me in my back causing me to fall forward and hit my face on the doorframe. He pulled me back in the room by my legs and sat on the edge of the bed staring at me. I was lightheaded from hitting my head so I just laid on the floor crying.

I had just gotten out of the shower and was only wrapped in towel. I was searching for pajamas and didn't know that he was behind me until I felt the belt connect with my skin. The entire car ride from the hospital was the quiet before the storm. He didn't even seem angry or anything. I didn't even know what lined I crossed or what I could've said to piss him off. My towel had come off while I was trying to get away from the belt assault. I pissed him off even more when I tried it grab the belt from him making him push me on the floor.

"Shut up!" He yelled causing me to flinch. "Why do you keep playing with me?" He asked hitting me with the belt. "Huh?" He yelled hitting me with the buckle this time. "I'm starting to think you like this shit. Get your ass up." He commanded coming towards me to pull me up by hair, turning me around to face him. "Why were you dancing with him?"

"I didn't think--" I didn't get to finish what I was saying because Brandon's fist knocked the rest of my words out of my mouth making me scream out in pain.

"You never think! That's your damn problem. How do you think that made me look?!" He screamed putting his hand around my throat pushing me against the wall. "You sleeping with him? Yeah, I saw how he touched you and then he kissed you!" He hissed squeezing tighter and my eyes were wide with fear. I was clawing at his hands to get them from around my throat. "He kissed you!" He screamed ramming my head into the wall with each word he yelled finally letting me go.

Gasping for air I croaked out, "It's not like that. He's just my friend." Brandon backhanded me making me fall to the ground. Punches landed all over my body. I looked at him and I could see the rage and the hate that filled his eyes. He was sweating and breathing like he had just run a marathon. I had screamed so much that I had lost my voice. I had no strength left in me to to even try to shield myself from the blows that rained on my body. He kicked me in my stomach and back like I was a soccer ball and he was practicing for a championship.

"I told your ass not to embarrass me!" He reminded me with another kick to my back. "You have to start listening." I moaned and groaned from the amount of pain that I was in. He bent down and pulled my swollen face to him and said, "You have to better." Through my left eye I saw his expression soften for a minute and he kissed my bloody lips. He forcibly pushed my face down and stood over me glaring at my body. "You don't have no damn friends." He said and launched a glob of spit that landed on my face. He started talking, but I didn't hear him because my world faded to black.

It hurt to breathe, hell it hurt to blink. I was sure that he had cracked or broken my ribs. When I found my way to the bathroom I looked at myself in the floor length mirror and saw a stranger. One eye was swollen shut, the other had a black eye and my lip was split and my face was swollen. I could see the bruises that covered my body. I needed to go to the hospital, but knew that wasn't an option. I had no voice and I definitely had no more tears. I laid on the bathroom floor unable to move anymore.

"I messed you up, didn't I?" He asked looking at me like he was surprised that I looked the way that I did. "I'm sure we learned our lesson, didn't we?" I responded with a simple and slow head nod. "I'm sorry that it went that far, but you have to stop pissing me off." He said as he ran bath in the twelve jet jacuzzi tub. "Don't think about leaving me, Cammy. I don't want to have to kill us." He said as he placed me in the tub.

Brandon washed me up, dressed me and put me in bed. He professed his love, apologized and blamed me all in one breath. He told me that he had things to do and that he would come back with some medicine for me.

"Plan on being in the house until you get rid of those bruises." He said kissing my cheek. I flinched when he raised his hand to brush my hair behind my ear. "I really am sorry that I hurt you. I promise I won't do that again." He promised as he lifted my head to look into my eye. "I love you, Mrs. Grant."

"I love you, too." I responded and laid my head on my pillow. Once he left I pulled out my phone and called Bre.

"Hello?" Bre answered "Hello? Cammy, I hear you breathing so stop playing." She joked after I didn't answer.

"Bre." I croaked into the phone and started crying.

"What's wrong, Camille?" She asked with worry in her voice. "Camille Latice!" She yelled into the phone.

"Tell me a story." I whispered and listened as she began talking.

Since I could remember if one us was hurt and we couldn't or didn't want to talk about it we would ask the other to tell us a story to take our mind off of the situation. We didn't pressure each other to talk and accepted it if we never found out was wrong. It didn't matter if took two minutes or two hours. The story could be true or made up, it just had to be comforting. We talked until the other said "the end". I sat there and listened and breathed. At some point I heard Peyton cry and there was a shift in the phone and a male voice picked up where Bre left off.

"The end." I said as soon as he spoke. "The end Trenton."

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