2.

For the most of twelve months, Bex had got used to her life in London with her-what she thought was loving-boyfriend and he often showered her with gifts and compliments, took her to all the best parties around. If she was honest with herself, she was having the time of her life. She had no idea of the truth about where he was really getting all the money for their lavish lifestyle from. When questioned, Dylan would often fob her off with some excuse of "a good day at the shoot" with some A-List client, and nothing more was said.

That was until the day he'd forgotten to lock away his laptop before he left for work, leaving Bex to her own devices.

Bex was that bored, she'd decided it was time to have a proper clean-up of their flat, just because there was nothing else to do.

She entered their bedroom to begin cleaning up when she noticed the laptop still switched on and the camcorder connected to it. Again her natural curiosity kicked in, and she found herself walking over to the laptop to check what it was doing still on, only to wish that she hadn't. Videos of her, some of which she didn't even remember the camera being in the room, but all of them contained her being provocative for him, performing for him, and to top it off, he'd been posting the videos online for the entire world to see.

"Oh my god…" she muttered, and felt bile stinging her throat, and made it to the bathroom with barely enough time to throw up into the toilet.

She sat on the cool, tiled floor, resting her now warm and clammy back against the cold relief of the tiled wall. "All this time he was using me…" she realised sickeningly.

Bex jumped when she heard the door to the flat open and her name being called. Shakily she got to her feet, using the edge of the sink as leverage, turning the cold tap on, splashing her face with the water and then dabbed her face dry with a nearby hand towel. "I'm in here…" she called.

There was a silent few seconds and then a knock at the door.

"Come in…" she muttered.

The door opened. "You alright?" Dylan asked.

Bex gave a slight nod, not trusting herself with any other movement. "I just feel sick that's all… might go for a lie down."

Dylan looked at her. "Well, let me just move the wo-"

"No it's fine…" she cut across him. "I'll lie on the sofa." She added. There was no way she was going back in that room tonight, not if she could help it.

"If you're sure?" he looked at her again, making sure.

"Yeah… I'll need a quick route to the bathroom if I'm sick again." She lied, and with that, Dylan left her, even for the whole night, he didn't come out of the bedroom unless it was to use the bathroom or get himself a drink.

All the while, Bex was planning her escape. Risky as it was, she desperately wanted hugs and the safety of her family.

The next morning, Bex woke to a tray of breakfast and a cup of tea being placed on the coffee table in front of her, and she looked up into the smiling face of the man she was supposed to love, the man who was supposed to love her, and she had to force herself to smile back, wondering how he could act like everything was normal.

'How do you do it…?' she thought to herself. 'How can you act like this is all normal for us…?'

"Bex?"

She looked up again when he spoke her name. Before she could stop herself, she asked; "How can you act normal with what we're doing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You. I was cleaning up yesterday, and I saw the laptop on, full of videos of me and you…"

Dylan looked pissed off for a moment wondering why she couldn't just forget about it, but he quickly covered himself. "Well…" he started.

"Have you turned me into some kind of porn star?" she demanded, pushing herself into a sitting position.

"You have fun don't you? I don't get what the big deal is, you were fine with me filming before you knew." He spoke.

"That's not the point! You're using me! Using me to make money!" she snapped. "I'm going home. Today."

"And when they ask where you've been, how you've survived on the streets for near on a year with no grades to get a job, what will you tell them? There's only three places you'd be without me, Bex, in some brothel somewhere, on the streets as a prozzie or in a crack den. And they know it, so do you. Face it, Bex, you're stuck with me, so you'd better get used to it." He told her.

Bex sighed, defeated, her shoulders slumped downward. He was right, and she hated it.

"If you run, Bex, I'll find you. You're mine and I'll never give up on you, not even in death." He threatened before standing up and walking out of the flat, locking the door behind him.

Despite the threat, it didn't stop Bex thinking and planning her escape back home. Through burning tears she picked up the plate and cup, taking it to the kitchen, throwing the tea down the sink and the breakfast in the bin. She wasn't up to eating what he'd cooked for her. One thing was for sure, she didn't move off the sofa all day, she wasn't going to do anymore tidying up as long as she stayed in the flat.

Later that night, Bex was sat in the bedroom with music playing loudly. She was getting ready for another performance he'd begged her into. Every second she spent putting make up on and sorting her hair out repulsed her now she knew what she was doing.

She looked up to find Dylan had gone out of the room, and knew she only had a minimal amount of time, she quickly took her phone from inside the pillow case and called home. She sighed softly when she heard her mother's soft, soothing voice the other end of the phone. She wanted to speak, but she couldn't. She stayed there for a few more seconds before hanging up, and quickly hid the phone again before Dylan came back with a pink and black corset and stockings.

He threw them toward her. "Put them on." He told her, before walking out of the room again to get the laptop set up so once the video was done he could easily post it.

Bex shuddered and bit her lip, gathering up her courage and took the items in her hands and got dressed, not really wanting to do it. If she could get through this and make him believe she enjoyed it, she knew she was a step on the way to being one hell of a good actress.