Life in Vegas || Brendon Urie

Chapter 31

The line was quiet. I waited for a response. Normally, I would have hung up, but something in me stayed on the line.

"Hello?" I encouraged my caller to speak.

"Don't hang up," they said hurriedly. I recognized the voice, but I couldn't put a finger on it. "It's me. It's Brendon."

I felt my stomach turn in knots; I knew there would be consequences if David looked at my phone records and saw Brendon's number in there again.

That's why I had lost all contact with Brendon in the first place - David had forced me to permanently rid myself of his existence. The things in the storage shed were fine because I refused to open the door (I caught my reprimand for it, though).

"You have the wrong number," I lied.

"No, I don't," he insisted. "I know I don't. Can we talk?"

"Brendon this isn't smart," I worried. "I'm in a committed relationship now."

"We're talking. Not fucking."

I was surprised at his verbiage. "Excuse me?"

"I just wanted to see how you've been," Brendon sighed.

"I'm doing fine," I replied shortly. The fresh marks on my skin echoed pain from my words, reminding me that I'm definitely not doing fine. "Look, I don't know why you called me. I'm not interested in talking to you. Please leave me alone."

"Kendall, please," Brendon stammered.

I hung up and set my phone on the nightstand. Sleep eluded me; my mind was racing trying to figure out why Brendon had called me. My heart ached, wishing that things had turned out different for us.

The front door opened, and I heard David stumble in. He was obviously drunk. I got up and peeked out the door.

"Kendall!" His voice bludgeoned my ears. "Where are you?"

I crept out of the room. "Right here," I replied, "I was just doing some cleaning."

"You know, for how much cleaning you do," hiccup, "this house is a wreck. You never do anything right."

I grimaced at his words, and he laughed harshly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. My body screamed at his touch.

"I'm just messing with you, babe," he whispered. "Why don't you go put some makeup on or something? You look terrible!" David laughed in my face, breathing the odor of whiskey into my nose.

"David, it's three in the morning," I argued. "I'm going to bed."

As I tried to walk away, David grabbed me roughly by my hips and pulled me against him.

"I'm coming right with you, then," he slurred sickeningly.

The next morning, I observed my naked body in the mirror. My skin was painted purple, red, black and blue everywhere that wouldn't be noticeable to the public eye. David's fingerprints from his rough grip and teeth marks from 'playful biting,' as he calls it, littered my midsection. I felt disgusted with myself.

How was I letting things get so far?

Before I wasted any more time, I showered and left for work before David woke up. That was my best defense against him; if I was still in the house when he woke up, I was guaranteed to start the day off wrong.

"Kendall, the boss man wants to talk with you," Mindy, the receptionist whom I'd taken a liking to, reported as I walked into the massive company building.

"Thanks," I smiled weakly at her.

"Hold on," she called after me, "come back. Did you sleep okay last night?"