I feel like such a slacker! I've been putting off writing chapters, but I'll get better, I promise.
Oooh, by the way, someone who reviewed asked me if I realized that the Council gets paid for being on the show. I do realize that. However, Amber may not... ;) Keep reading!
When the police had taken her home after the first night she'd spent at Corny's apartment, Chip had taken on the role of doting assumed step-father, rushing to the door as the police rang the bell, ushering her into the house and placing a concerned hand on her shoulders as the police officers spoke to him in serious tones. She had gritted her teeth, letting her eyes burn an imaginary hole in the floor beneath her feet; then she could be swallowed up, assumed dead. It would have been better than being back there with his greasy fingers resting on the bare skin of her back. She had wanted to hit him, kick the police officers, run as fast as she could, but then where would she go? She couldn't go back to Corny. Apparently he was just like the rest of them; he thought she belonged here, in this hell hole. The only difference with him was, he believed her.
She stood backstage at the show now, straightening her full, pretty skirts in a mirror and pretending that that was the most important thing in the world to her. She studied her reflection hard, letting the fingernails that had become brittle from lack of proper nutrition scratch down her dress. Her bruises were fading, though not completely gone yet. The purple bruises could be disguised by make-up, but not totally covered. Purple wisps traced the outline of her eye, and down one side of her silky cheek. It was enough to tell anyone that something wasn't right, but the make-up girls had stopped trying to cover it after Amber had begun to wince in pain.
Chip hadn't hit her since she'd been taken back to her house, almost a full week ago. In fact, he hadn't done anything to her. Hadn't even spoken to her, which, truth be told, terrified her beyond all reasonable belief. When he was hitting her, or even molesting her, she knew where she was; what he was doing. But when he was quiet, and when she didn't hear him trying to break the lock on her door, it was agony. It was like sitting back and waiting for the snake to attack; it could happen at any time, and she had no idea what would be the one thing to set it off.
She heard high-heels clicking past her, and glanced up to see Velma, though not headed toward her. She wasn't a mother, not anymore; she was simply Velma Von Tussle. At the show, at home, it was the same. Velma didn't speak to her. Amber wasn't completely sure if it was because of Chip, or simply because she had no idea what to say. She'd caught Velma looking at her once, and had raised her eyes intentionally to her mother. She knew that she'd seen the bruises, the pain on the girl's face. She knew that, even though she'd averted her steely blue eyes seconds after Amber had initiated the contact between them, it was too late. Velma had seen the deep cut in her lip, the bruises that were attempting to hide beneath the make-up. Even if Velma would never say it, Amber now knew that she had seen the pain on her face. She assumed that moment of truth between them was what kept pushing them apart.
As her mother passed, she began toward the stage, letting herself build momentum with each step she took. She didn't want to see Corny right now, not after how he'd thrown her into the ring of fire and left her to burn. Still, part of her knew that she needed to. She needed to have that reassurance; that he had told the truth about being concerned for her. Something inside of her was craving that concerned look on his face.
"Amber," she heard a voice behind her, and turned, fully expecting to see Corny, his worried eyes, the frown engraved onto his face. She blinked as she turned to look at Link, his blue eyes searching for hers. It was the first time he had spoken to her since that night. "Listen, we-" He paused, his eyes tracing over the faint purple markings on his face. He looked into her eyes suddenly for answers to the bruises, his dark brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "I need to talk to you."
She felt herself nodding, and realized how easy it would be to escape from all of this, to cover her bruises from him and pretend nothing was wrong. She didn't want to tell him what had happened, but some part of her wanted him to see it; she wanted him to realize the living hell she was in. Amber followed him backstage, and she watched him as he shifted nervously. She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for him to speak. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he glanced up at her.
"I'm sorry about that night," it wasn't necessary for either of them to specify which night, because they both knew. Link remembered it as the night he'd stood her up, Amber remembered it as the first night she'd been raped. It was funny how different it could be for different people. "I didn't expect for that to happen." He continued with his shallow apology, "I just…I'm sorry."
He stood back, obviously hoping it would be enough. Amber could see the regret in his eyes, she knew that he meant his words, but some part of it just wasn't enough for her; she wanted to hear more from him.
"You could have called," she let the words slip out, her voice breaking, "I felt like an idiot, Link. I just sat around waiting for you." It was nothing compared to what had happened later that night, but she felt the words needed to be said. Amber had never been one to discuss her feelings openly, but even hearing Link apologizing for such a trivial thing as this made something inside of her begin to heal. She felt fresh tears burning in her eyes, and tried to focus on anything other than him. She saw him swallow hard from the corner of her eye, and saw his dark head nodding.
"I know," he sounded so vulnerable that she glanced back at him, "I'm sorry. It's just-" he paused, and then bit on the inside of his lip, "Amber, I took someone else to the dance."
She had known it, even before he'd said it, and let her blue eyes meet his again. She had known it when his mother had lied; there was no reason to deny it. Still, she had. She had hoped he'd come back to her.
"I know," she let the words slip out as a whisper, "I knew that, even as I was waiting for you." She felt the need to ask, even though she knew it didn't matter. Any semblance of a relationship they'd had, it was over now. It had been over for months, and she'd been too ignorant to pay attention to the signs. The cancelled dates, the glossed-over stares when she spoke to him, the muttered responses to her questions. They had added up quickly, and she wasn't an idiot. She'd noticed them. "Who did you take?"
There was something so lost in his eyes that she couldn't be mad at him; she couldn't hate him for doing this. She couldn't blame him for not wanting a broken girl when there were a million others, still in tact, that were willing to bow down at his feet.
"Tracy," her name left his lips, and though Amber expected to be shocked, or make a snide remark, she felt herself nodding. "I've actually been seeing her for a while now." She had known it. It didn't matter much now, anyway. It's not like she thought there was a chance for reconciliation between the two of them; the very last thing she was interested in was any kind of romantic relationship. He glanced toward her, expecting her to be furious, to throw things and scream at him, scratch his eyes out. She knew that without even saying it, it was what she should have done. It was what everyone expected of her. Still, she couldn't find the strength to be angry, much less care.
"Did you have fun at the dance?" She asked the question, trying not to remember that when they were dancing, laughing, holding hands, Amber was being pinned to her bed, being violated. She tried not to think about the fact that while Tracy and Link were sharing soft kisses, Chip had stuck his tongue into Amber's mouth, probing her with it.
"Yeah," he nodded sheepishly, "It was nice." He looked awkward suddenly, having a conversation about his new girlfriend with the one he had stood up, "I still should have called you, that night. I shouldn't have done that to you."
She knew that Link had never been one to admit his defeat, at least not to her, and she nodded softly.
"You're right, you shouldn't have." Her eyes felt heavy suddenly, her legs weak. She wanted to sit down, but needed to finalize this with Link. "It doesn't matter, Link. I'm not going to fight for you."
She realized that the words sounded conceited, even catty, but she didn't care. It wasn't how she'd meant it. She didn't have the strength or passion to fight for him, because she didn't want him. She didn't want him to touch her, or kiss her anymore. She didn't want to feel his hands working at the clasp of her bra, didn't want to feel their skin pressed against each other. There was nothing even remotely attractive about that to her, not since Chip had touched her. If Link needed it, he could get it. Amber didn't have to be the one to give it out.
She reached into a pocket on her dress suddenly, her fingers finding the heavy gold ring. She turned it over in her fingers, trying to remember when this simple ring had been an object of obsession for her. She'd spent years fantasizing about it, and then, when Link had actually given it to her, she assumed the rest of her life had been laid out ideally before her. One day, she assumed this class ring would become a wedding band, and they'd marry in a huge ceremony. It would be the event of the year, and only the most prestigious guests would attend. Maybe her mother would even televise it, and, in credit to their Baltimore popularity, it would be the highest rated television event of the summer. She would wear a white, lacy gown that flowed around her ankles, and he would look handsome in the black suit she would pick out for him. They would be pronounced husband and wife, and then they would kiss, thereby completing her perfect life.
Now, though, this ring didn't seem to be much at all. All of the hopes and dreams that had come with it when he had given it to her were gone. She pulled it out of her pocket, her delicate fingers offering it to him. He stared at it blankly for a moment, and then reached out to take it, forcing a tight smile back at her.
"Thanks." He slipped it into his pocket, and she nodded slightly.
"Link," she felt so weak, so totally out of character that he looked worriedly at her for a moment, "I just…I need a friend. Really, really badly." Her eyes stung with tears, "I've pushed all of the council girls so far away from me, I can't get them back." She looked to him desperately, and saw something in his eyes that she'd never seen before: sympathy. She knew it would sound stupid, but she had to take the chance. He could read the bruises on her face, the pain in her eyes. He knew that the old Amber was gone, though he didn't even pretend to know why. He recognized the purple splotches; he'd seen them enough on Amber when she'd fallen on set, bumped her knees, hurt her ankle. But never on her face. You didn't get bruises like that on accident.
"Can we be friends, Link?" She almost expected him to say no, and couldn't have blamed him if he had. She expected him to remember all those times, when they'd been dating that she'd treated him like her property, ordered him around. It wasn't easy to forget the way she'd treated him like a pure-bred puppy. Still, she asked the question, because she needed an answer so desperately.
He smiled at her then, and it wasn't the forced smile he'd been giving her for the last few months. It wasn't the humor-me smile that she'd been accepting because she was too jealous to deal with the truth. It was a real smile, and that was enough for her.
"I've always wanted to be your friend," he nodded, "I'd like to be your friend. We just couldn't get past the rest of our problems."
She let the corners of her mouth turn into a tired smile for him, and he touched her arm supportively.
He had no idea what the word 'problem' meant. She would have given anything to be debating over which movie to see, or where to go for dinner. He didn't realize that, though. He didn't realize that she was no longer living the charmed life she'd once been assigned.