Wow! I think two days without posting is like a record for me! Anyway, I'm back, so enjoy!
That was the first time she spent the night at Corny's house. Not to say that she slept, though, because sleep was a poor word choice for it. She'd been exhausted, from the fight, from the bruises, from the fear. He'd given his bed to her and had slept on the couch, but she'd lain awake all night, wondering, worrying. Scared to death that Chip would come for her, and, though she hated herself for it, worried that Corny would try to hurt her, as well. She wasn't afraid of him so much as she was afraid of the fact that he was a man, an older man who had a completely vulnerable seventeen-year old girl at his mercy. She tried not to let herself think about him that way; she knew he would never hurt her. Still, the doubt was in the back of her mind; the doubt that as long as she lived, she'd never be able to trust a man, no matter how nice he pretended to be.
She got through the majority of the night by focusing on the fact that she wasn't at home, and that Chip wasn't coming for her. He had no idea where Corny lived, or even who he was. Aside from the fact that he'd told him his name, he was a complete stranger. That was fine with Amber. She needed to be hidden away right now, away from any kind of world she recognized.
She was still awake when the sun began to rise, basking her room in the soft pink afterglow; that light that made everything so surreal, so peaceful. She turned on her side, letting herself gaze at the wall, tears burning her eyes as she tried to orchestrate some kind of plan; anything to get away from all of this. She would turn eighteen in less than a month now, but she had no idea what would happen after that. She didn't have a job, didn't have any money saved up. She'd always benefited from the fortune her father, and now her mother, had made from the studio, so she'd never seen any real reason to get a job. That was how the old Amber thought; jobs were for poor people, people that didn't have rich families. Clearly, that wasn't the case. Still, she had nothing. Her mother controlled their finances, and if Amber moved out when she turned eighteen that would be it; she would be homeless, broke, and completely alone. The thought made her want to cry suddenly, and she curled into the blankets of Corny's bed, burying her face in the feather pillows. They smelled like him, and she took a small comfort in that fact, because it concreted the fact that she wasn't in her own bed. It made it real.
She let the silent tears slip down her nose, and tried to wipe them away before they dripped onto the pillows. She let herself stay curled like that and crying until the pink glow had turned into the golden sunlight of morning. Even then, she didn't want to stop; didn't want to get up. She had become so accustomed to spending most of her day in bed, or wishing that she was in bed, that she'd lost whatever was left of her life.
There was a soft rap at the door, and she forced herself to turn, to look at the door.
"Yes?" Her voice was soft, and she hoped that he couldn't hear the tears in her voice as she spoke. She swallowed hard, and gently wiped at her eyes with her fingers, trying to erase the inevitable puffiness. She pulled the blankets tighter around her as she heard his voice on the other side of the door.
"May I come in?"
She nodded, before realizing that he couldn't see her.
"Yes."
He entered a moment later, carrying a small tray. He didn't look at her as he made his way to the bed, and pushed some objects on a bedside table out of the way to put the tray down. She glanced down at the glass of orange juice and toast on the tray. He stepped back.
"I thought you might be hungry. You look like you need to eat." He smiled softly at her, and she nodded softly.
"Thanks."
He left the room, closing the door behind him, and she let a trembling hand reach out and take the glass, bringing it to her lips. The acid in the juice burned her cut lip as it slipped past her lips and down her throat, but she drank it gratefully. She finished the juice and began to pick at the toast, but couldn't force herself to eat. She'd been depriving herself of going to the kitchen to get food for so long that she was sure her stomach had shrunk. She finally decided not to eat the toast, and let herself sit in his bed for another minute before finally finding the strength to get up. There was a pressure against her bladder, and she suddenly remembered that she didn't have to sneak around here. She could move freely without fear of being pounced upon.
She threw the covers off and opened the door, padding down the hall to the bathroom. She relieved herself, and then studied her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a natural disaster, her make-up smeared. Her bruises had since turned an ugly blue color that made her look like a cheap hooker with too much eye shadow on. She swallowed the lump in her throat and reached for a wash cloth, gently cleaning the make-up from her face. When she looked into the mirror and realized that she was nothing special without her make-up, barely even a pretty face, she knew that she had done her job well. That was what she would let herself become; nothing special to look at. A regular girl with bags under her eyes and spots on her face, and then no one would look twice at her. No one would even want to think about touching her in any way. It was the way she could protect herself.
She made her way back down the hall, with every intention to climb back into bed, but spotted Corny on the couch, his head down in his hands. She stood behind him, watching him for a moment, her mouth dry.
"What happened?" She was almost afraid to ask the question; she knew what kinds of things he might say. He might have already been fired, or worse. Still, she had to know. The sound of her voice made him flinch, and he turned to look at her, standing quickly.
"Amber." He looked surprised to see her standing in the hallway. "Is everything okay?" It was such a randomly stupid question that he stuttered suddenly, "I mean, are you all right?"
She watched him with her cerulean eyes.
"What happened?" She asked the question again. "Were you fired?" Her mouth was dry.
"No," he shook his head, "not yet, anyway."
She stood silently in the hallway before perching on the side of the couch.
"You didn't have to do that, Corny." Though even as the words left her mouth, she knew that he had needed to, and he wouldn't have been able to live with himself otherwise. He looked up at her, and she could tell that his eyes were studying her bruises. She willed her fingers to stay at her side, not to cover the bruises, because it was important that he see them, important that she began to accept them.
"There was no other choice, Amber. Anyone would have done the same thing." His voice was firm.
She could have protested, because it wasn't true. Anyone wouldn't have done the same thing; in fact, he was the only one had had done it. They fell into a deep silence, and Amber felt the sickness in the pit of her stomach again. She would have to go home today. God, there was nowhere in the world she wanted to be less, and yet, she knew it was inevitable.
Amber felt the burn in her eyes at the thought, and she let herself stare down at the floor. She wasn't sure what to say to him, or what was going to happen now. He had no choice, he had to take her home, and then what? Would he just leave her there with Chip? She wanted to run, fly, swim, across the ocean, across the sky. Wanted to be anywhere but home. He couldn't just take her back there, back to the place that he had just rescued her from. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. She deserved as much of a chance to live as anyone else. Taking her back there was sealing her fate.
"Hey," she heard his voice, and looked up at him, her eyes dark. His hands were in his pockets, and he was watching her. "Listen, I know this is hard, but I'm not….he's not going to hurt you again, Amber. You're going to be okay."
More than anything, she wanted to believe his words, but knew that he wasn't the one who would be at that house; he wasn't the one who was waiting for her to come back.
The heavy pounding on his front door caused them both to jump, and Corny looked toward the source of the sound suddenly. Amber flinched, moving quickly behind the door of Corny's bedroom, his eyes watching her as she huddled into the frightened heap she was.
He let himself pull the door open and came face to face with two stony faced police officers. She couldn't hear their conversation from her hiding spot, but the two men entered the apartment and began to speak in hushed tones. She knew why they were here; to arrest him, to drag her back to Hell. It wasn't hard to figure out. She stayed crouched behind the door for several more minutes, and when she heard footsteps approaching, she squeezed her eyes shut. Corny pulled the door open slightly, looking down at her with heavy eyes. He offered his hand to her, and she took it. The police officers must have left. They must have gone back to Velma and Chip and told them that she wasn't-
"Listen," he led her into the living room, where the two officers stood waiting, "they've come to take you home, Amber."
"What?" Her voice was soft, and she looked anxiously at Corny, "Why?"
"Because they have to," his voice was low, "Amber, you're seventeen years old. You have to go home. They're not going to arrest me for taking you, because I know these guys personally. They're good guys; they won't let him hurt you again. You just have to go home."
"But I don't want to!" She realized that she sounded like a spoiled child, and had to resist the temptation to stomp her foot, "I don't want to go back there!" She reached for him, grasping his shirt with her fingers.
"I know," his voice was soft, and he let his fingers graze the skin on her arm. "But listen, he's not going to hit you again. The police have talked to him, and he's going to change. He said he was."
"You don't know him!" She choked on her tears, "He's not going to change! He can't change!"
The police reached out for her gently, and she batted them away.
"Corny, please! You don't understand, he'll kill me if I go back there!" She held onto him, and he clenched his jaw. She could see the pain in his eyes; he knew that it was true. He knew that Chip wasn't a different person than the one he'd been last night. Why was he forcing her to go back to that monster?
"He won't," he assured her softly, "these guys will make sure of it." He looked pained as he worked his fingers from her shirt, and the two uniformed men nodded at him understandingly as they took Amber by the arms and began to lead her to the door. She began to sob hysterically, reaching back for Corny like a child.
"Stop! Please! You don't understand, none of you understand! I don't want to go back there!" She broke free of their grasp and raced to Corny suddenly, her voice dropping to a low whimper, "I don't want to be alone with him."
Her arms hugged his waist, desperate for him to comfort her. He swallowed hard, and let his hand stroke the golden tresses that hadn't been curled and primped for so long that they hung lifelessly around her sad face.
"You will never be alone, Amber. But these guys, they've talked to him, and he's going to get help. I'll check in on you. You'll be fine." He offered her the most supportive smile he could muster. "Amber, you're always welcome here, but you know that you can't stay here forever. You're just a kid; you have to go home." His voice broke as he spoke, but he hid it from her. He had no choice.
With those damning words, she let the police officers gently pry her from him, and choked back a sob at the fact that the only person who had cared enough about her to reach out, had just let her be pulled into the depths of Hell.
The worst part was, he didn't even seem to notice that he had just thrown her into the lion's den.