Page 130 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“Sophie.”

A chill runs down my spine.

“Caleb.” For the second time in as many days, my chest is tight.

“You changed your number, baby.” Caleb’s voice is soft and menacing–a threat and definitely not an empty one. I remain silent. “What, no love for me? That’s all right, baby. Tell your boyfriends I said hi.”

He hangs up and my legs shake. My breathing is ragged and shallow. I stagger to the wall and slump against it, trying to remain standing. The familiar threat of tears pricking the back of my eyes forces me to tilt my head back in an attempt to keep them at bay.

The moment I feel Miles’ hands on my arms, I know I have to tell him. Brody knows, so my other boyfriend might as well know too. Miles’ voice breaks through my racing thoughts, repeating my name, trying to get my attention.

“I’m ok,” I finally stammer, meeting his gaze. “I’m ok.”

“You arenotok. What the fuck is going on?” Despite the forceful language, I hear the concern in his voice.

“N-not now.” I can’t do this now. I can’t fall apart now. “I have to film in a couple of hours.”

I make it through my scene with no issues–it’s a pretty vanilla video we planned, so there’s nothing to trigger me. Showered and dressed, I find myself in Miles’ room as we planned. I promised to talk later and it’s later. Time to talk.

I pick at the couch cushion beneath me while Miles sits on the far side, giving me space, waiting for me to speak.

“The phone call,” he offers in an attempt to help me get started. I breathe out slowly before answering.

“It was my ex.” I hate the terror in my voice. “He, er- It-it ended- No.” I shake my head and Miles reaches out a hand to pat my knee.

“Take your time.”

Another deep breath steadies me and I stare into those golden brown orbs that want so badly for me to trust him.

“My ex wasn’t a good guy.” My voice is stronger, just a bit louder now, but there’s still a wobble to it. “It was ok when we first started dating and I was only making solo content. He liked it. He liked watching me.” I pause to swallow and try to keep my breathing consistent.

“A couple of years ago, I got an offer from someone, a creator with a bigger following. He wanted to shoot with me.” I cast my eyes down to where Miles’ thumb is tracing circleson my skin, making it difficult to concentrate. “I didn’t ask before accepting. I justtoldCaleb what I was doing.”

“And he didn’t like that.”

“Exactly,” I whisper, raising my eyes to his again. “At first,” my body begins to tremble and I can feel my jaw threatening to lock up, “it was just little things. Verbal stuff. Insults.”

Miles scoots closer. I know he must feel how my body is reacting, but he continues to keep his hand where it is, touching me nowhere else.

“It-it didn’t get bad until a few months before-” my breathing hitches, “before I moved. He h-h-”

“You don’t have to keep going. I get the idea.”

“I have to,” I whisper, but those damn tears are threatening again.No secrets.“It got worse and,” I take a deep breath, “one morning, he-he held a knife to my throat.”

I press my lips together, trying to convince the damn tears to stay back. Reaching my hand up to my neck, I trace the small line, not even two inches long. It’s puckered and a shade darker than the surrounding skin. Located on the side of my neck, it isn’t overly obvious. If you don’t know it’s there, you’ll miss it.

“What the fuck?” Miles is seething. The switch happened in the blink of an eye–from supportive to furious. He’s staring at the spot just above my fingertips, eyebrows pulled down. His breath rushes in and out heavily through his nose as if he’s trying to keep himself from saying anything else.

“That was in February. I left when he went to work that day. He thought I was away for a collab, but I took everything I needed and just… never went back.”

“Sophie, I-I didn’t know,” Miles whispers.

He moves closer, raising the hand on my knee up to my face. I lean into his palm, closing my eyes against the pain and terror threatening to overwhelm me. We stay like that for several seconds, the heat from his hand helping to calm my racing heart.

“I’m here for you.”

Those four little words release the floodgates and rip a sob from my throat. I hate this fucking feeling–helplessness, terror, a lack of any solution to this stupid fucking problem. It makes me want to scream and cry and rage against the man who turned me into a creature of fear.

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