#discussed

I'm too nauseous to think about food, unable to wrap my head around this bizarrely staged domesticity. Ridley has raped me, less than 10 minutes ago. The second time today. I've witnessed him brutally beat down another man, who loves him unconditionally. He's being used as a footrest now. I'm cuffed and collared. And we're on the couch ordering pizza. This is insane.

Daddy's in a good mood. Fuck.

I can't allow his mood to swing again. "Cheese," I mumble and tilt my head towards the screen. "There. Quattro formaggi."

"Huh. Interesting choice," he says with a chuckle that could almost be called warm in another situation. "You know, that's my boyfriend's favorite, too, and he's actually Italian." Ridley taps at the screen. "Mine is Hawaiian. Leo called me a pervert for it. You wouldn't do that, babygirl, would you?" He gives me a side glance, a challenge playing in his smirk. I don't even understand the game.

"I'd actually call both of you perverts," I say flatly. "But not for your food choices."

"You say that to his face, and he'll fuck you raw." Ridley's voice is still playful, amicable. "Good for you that you're mine. I find your flirty banter adorable."

I shuffle out of his grasp as good as possible with tired hands. "Fuck you. I'm not y-"

To my shame, his fingertips against my lips are enough to shut me up.

"Ah, ah," he tuts. "I love playing with you, Princess. But don't ruin my mood by denying the obvious." He leans forward, picks up the cane.

Ignoring B's wince, when Ridley's leather shoes scrub over his back, he wiggles both the cane and his phone in front of my face. "Pizza or punishment? You decide."

"Fuck you," I whisper, as I slump back. "Pizza."

Smiling, he nudges my forehead with the cane. "That's my clever little girl."

I clench my teeth to force back the sickening taste of defeat.

Humming to himself, Ridley finishes the order with some quick taps. "Cheese for you, Hawaiian for me, pepperoni for B." He tucks the phone into his pocket and leans back, his arm wrapping around my shoulder again. "Now. Might really use the time to get to know each better, don't you think? After all, you'll be staying with me for a while."

I grimace and shake my head. "Oh, I think I've seen enough already."

"See, Princess, but you don't call the shots here." He shrugs, almost apologetically. "So. I think we can talk about favorites. Inoffensive topic for our first real date, don't you think? We've already established favorite pizza. Next, hm." His eyes gleam. "Favorite sex position?"

"Fuck you."

"Baby," Ridley says sternly. "We both know that's what you will end up doing, but it's not exactly a position. Come on. I'll start. Doggy. 'Cause I can sink my cock into that tight pussy of yours real deep."

He looks at me expectantly. He's fucking serious. He really thinks this is a valid conversation to have.

I stare at the cane over his lap, the bruises on B's back. If I want to keep myself safe, I don't have a choice but to play along. "On top." I settle with the truth. "I like being on top."

Ridley's face brightens in sincere delight. "Aw! Cowgirl! Of course it would be. See, babygirl. Smalltalk is not that hard!"

"We obviously have very different interpretations of the term smalltalk," I say dryly.

"Yeah. But mine wins." He smiles. "Next question. Bodycount?"

I snort. Of course he'd want to know that. "Which sense?"

"Both."

"Until yesterday, two. And nineteen. As of today, three. And - still nineteen." I smirk. "I don't count rape."

"Ah." Ridley lets out an exaggerated moan. "Naughty. A slut and a killer. Fuck, princess. You're getting me all hot and bothered." He licks his lips. "How many, if we do count rape?"

I freeze.

"Yeah, you're easy to read, baby." Ridley's lip curls into a predatory smile. "I'm not your first, hm? Of course not. Fuck, baby, you are just asking for it." He rolls over on his side, half on top of me and rests his chin on his hands. I can feel his erection press against my leg. "Go on. Tell Daddy about them. What did they do to you? Were they mean to my little babygirl?"

No. No. He's not supposed to know. Nobody does. I refuse to know myself, refuse to remember.

"Please." I can barely breathe, struggle to keep it all locked up, in the far end of my memory. "Please, I... I can't. Please, Daddy."

The doorbell rings. A weirdly real, present noise, that I try to attach to, to keep me grounded in the here and now.

"Huh. So cute. So easy. My little princess, all flustered. All broken." Ridley presses a button on his phone, before he leans in to pepper little kisses on my neck, right under the collar. I am numb, suffocating, drowning under his touch. "Don't you worry," he hums. "I might not be the first to play with you that way, but I'll make sure to be the most memorable."

Elated, he pushes himself up and claps his hands. "Anyway. Follow up on this later. It's pizza time!"

*

My cheeks are wet with tears, my thighs with something else. There's a tortured man on the floor in front of me; my body aches, inside and out. An erratic sociopathic clown claims to own me, and intimately understands all my vulnerabilities.

I'm nauseous and dizzy, shaking with dread and exhaustion.

I've been so convinced that I couldn't be able to eat anything at all, ever.

Then, the smell of hot pizza wafts through the air, and my body betrays me once again. I'm hungry. I haven't properly eaten since last night - longer, if one doesn't count the laced soup Ridley has made me lick off the table.

Whistling, Ridley carries the stack of greasy pizza boxes over, tosses one onto the hardwood floor in front of B. I think I hear B's stomach growl - until I realize it's mine.

"Oh, baby," Ridley coos, as he looks into the first box. "Have you been starving? Don't you worry. You've earned a big treat today. Spreading you legs for me. Learning you first rule. Sharing your naughty little secrets."

I turn my head away, so he can't see the fresh tears springing up in my eyes. My naughty little secrets. I can't think about them, even less imagine what Ridley will do with that knowledge. I dread that more than anything he can do with his fucking cock.

"Here you go." He tosses the box onto my lap. I look down at it, back at him. My hands are still cuffed behind my back. Does Ridley want me to-

He laughs in delight when he understands. "Ooooh, baby. You're so ready to bend over and eat without your hands for me, aren't you?" He leans in, almost an embrace, brushes his lips over my neck, as he fumbles with the lock and clicks the cuff open. "Come oooon. I'm not a monster."

Highly debatable. I don't say it. He'd like it, probably, but I can't play this game right now. I play his other game. The one where I comply.

My wrists are prickling, when I carefully peel out a piece of the pizza and take a huge bite.

"Enjoy," Ridley grabs his own box and lounges on the couch next to me, his feet once again dropping onto B.

Gingerly, without shifting his back, B reaches out for the pizza.

Ridley lifts a foot and slams it down. B yelps. "Not you, stupid. You eat like the Dog you are."

Obediently, B leans forward and puts his mouth around the crust of the pizza, shaking his head to rip out a bite.

I don't want to look at it, but can't pull my gaze away. The bits he rips out are tiny, the cheese too thick, the sausage burning hot.

B's lips are puffy. His mouth and chin are covered in sauce.

Ridley has turned on the TV, not even taking note of B's humiliation. Casually, he slides a hand onto my thigh, eats his pizza with the other.

My pizza tastes sour.

Not a monster.

Of course you are.

Ridley's grip around my leg tightens. "Look," he says, giddy, as he points at the huge screen. "Look!"

He's selected some local station, a blonde lady reading out the news. There's a villa shown behind her, elegant white, the ocean in the background. It's a lovely place.

It's my home.

The still turns into a video clip, heavily armed officers dragging a tall man out onto the street, hands cuffed, head forced down, while he still seems to be arguing, debating, delaying.

Dad.

My head starts spinning, the slice of pizza slipping from my hand.

"... has been arrested at his home yesterday morning. The whereabouts of his daughter, Danielle Hammond, 23, remain unclear. Ms Hammond has allegedly been reported missing by a flatmate. Sources imply, however, that Ms Hammond might have been actively assisting in Mr. Hammond's criminal prosecution, and fled the country to avoid repercussions from his associates. Should you..."

Ridley pauses the TV, a giant still of my face illuminating the room.

"No," I whisper tonelessly. "No."

"They all think you've run," Ridley says with a smug smile. "A matter of days, and you're forgotten. Nobody will come looking for you. Except, of course,..." His hand slides between my legs. "... those who know exactly about your whereabouts."

"It's a lie." I don't even feel his fingers, just shake my head. "I... I didn't... I'd never..."

"You'd never betray your Daddy? Of course you would, babygirl. You did when you debased yourself on that poker table. You did when you lapped up that soup for me. You did when you begged for Daddy's big cock." He kisses down the side of my neck, sucking a line of hickeys into my skin. "And you'll betray him a little bit more, each and every day, until poor old Daddy Hammond just can't take it any longer."

two weeks later

may 25, 1998

The air around her was stagnant and cold. A slew of women, young and old, waited quietly. Each one occupied themselves with reading a magazine, watching the muted television intently, or talking to one another. Sabrina, on the other hand, bounced her leg incessantly and bit down at the edge of her nail, just wishing the whole process could be over and done with. 

On the television, This Morning was half covered by the captions, rendering the segment on whether or not new moms should formula-feed their babies unwatchable. The content couldn't have been shown at a more inappropriate time. 

"Sabrina Qualley?" a soft voice from across the room called. Sabrina shot up, barely able to sling her bag over her shoulder before she was headed for a near sprint to the nurse. 

Sabrina clutched her cross-body bag as she followed the nurse through the twists and turns of the Planned Parenthood clinic. 

"Come in here, we're going to just take your weight and blood pressure," the nurse, whose name tag read Veda, said. She tapped her bright pink pen at the door of the room Sabrina was to go into. 

"Even for just a meeting with Jenna?" Sabrina asked.

The nurse shrugged at her apologetically, "Formalities, dear. Everyone's got to have their vitals taken." 

Understandable.

Then the nurse flipped through her chart, "Plus it's been a bit since your last visit for your—" she squinted further at the first page of Sabrina's chart. "Procedure...so, erm. We'll have to take those vitals today," there was a beat, "How have you been since then?" 

"Normal," Sabrina shrugged. She felt the grotesque pit in her stomach sprout. This would absolutely not be the normal day she had wanted to have. 

Sabrina stepped onto the scale, unable to comprehend the number as the nurse moved the weights around until they balanced for a moment. She caught the number as the nurse scribbled it down: 12 stone. She had had her shoes on, though, so Sabrina discounted two pounds from the amount. 

"Now's the blood pressure. Just try to relax yourself. Think good thoughts." 

A field of flourishing green entered Sabrina's mind as she closed her eyes. Warm sun engulfed her and the grass coaxed her to lay down and take a nice, relaxing nap. To be thousands of miles from the gloom and doom of England would be most welcome. 

She snapped back into reality when the velcro was ripped apart. The nurse—Vanessa, was it?—removed her pink stethoscope and gave Sabrina a tight-lipped smile. "Normal." 

"Great," Sabrina replied, sounding not nearly as excited as she expected herself to sound. 

"Now," she started, taking hold of her pen and clicking it open. "Date of your last period?" 

"May 15," Sabrina replied definitively. 

"No irregularities after your procedure?" 

She shook her head. She was surprised when February 15 came along and her cycle was as on time as ever. 

"Last thing...We have your emergency contact listed as Natalie Pemberton, is that still correct?" 

"Uhm," Sabrina hesitated, "No. I'd like to change it to my brother if that's alright." There was a small pang of hurt when she said the words. 

"Okay, they can take his information at the desk when you're leaving," Veda closed Sabrina's file and stood up. "Jenna will be in shortly." 

After the door closed gently behind her, Sabrina was left in the eerie quiet of the examination room. The room was cold—as was standard for seemingly every medical practice ever—and she felt the goosebumps trail up her arms before a shiver ran through her. 

When she had been at the facility last, things were much different. Though they'd broken up on January first, Sabrina took an additional week to move out of the apartment she and Shaun had shared. In this meantime she'd gone to get rid of the lock he had tried to keep on her with a misused condom. 

Natalie had been there to pick her up afterwards and the two went back to her place in order for Sabrina to recover peacefully. 

She never felt more alone than she had in the past four months. 

The light knock at the door drew Sabrina away from her thoughts and triggered her falsified smile. Jenna came in sporting some new highlights that did not suit her. Sabrina said nothing, of course. Though she couldn't help but take notice.

"Sabrina! Glad to see you back. How've you been?" 

"Much better, Jenna. Thank you."

"That's good to hear," she flipped through Sabrina's chart, "Seems like you've put on some weight. That's also good. Weight gain is healthy and normal after all that you've gone through." 

"Yeah, I've been trying to save money so my diet's not the best at the moment..."

"That's okay. You can still get it back on track. Fruits, vegetables, lots of water...You know, the regulars of a healthy diet."

"Right," Sabrina answered. Jenna began jotting down a few notes and rifled through a few more pages. The sprouting pit in her stomach was a full-grown stem now. "I got a call—" she started. 

"Are the new address and phone number working out for you?" Jenna spoke over her inadvertently, not hearing what she had started to say. 

"Yes, very much so. Honestly the biggest problem is my mum. I still haven't told her what happened and she's desperate to get me back with my ex. She actually set up a dinner last Sunday with him to try and get us back together, but I didn't go." 

"Oh, that's not good. Do you plan to tell her anytime soon?" 

"Not really. She's just of that old-fashioned mindset and I really don't want her to have something else to nag me about." 

"And how's your relationship with your mum?" 

"It's good. I guess I seem like I harbor negative feelings about her, but I don't. Not really. She's great, I love her, but sometimes she just...knows how to get under my skin. And unfortunately there's a lot there to pick apart." 

"Got it..." she jotted down a few more words. "Have you had anyone to talk to about everything that happened? Like a friend or a psychologist? Someone who you trust."

Sabrina squirmed where she sat. None of her answers aligned with what was supposed to happen in a situation like hers; what was normal. She shook her head. "Just my brother. But with him I just sort of told him what happened. He doesn't like to talk about it so much. But he looks out for me, in a sense." 

"Is he older, younger?" 

"Younger. He's," she paused, doing the math in her head, "Twenty-one now. Twenty-two next month. His name is Zach. Zachary." 

"Sounds like a good little brother," Jenna chuckled. 

"Usually," Sabrina smiled. The stem shrank a little in size. "Forced me to go to a Radiohead concert with him in March because his girlfriend couldn't go. It was actually good, though, so I can't complain."

"Music's always a good form of therapy. A lot of people don't realize that." 

"It was pretty far from my norm. I usually listen to, like, Wham!, George Michael...I dabble in some Spice Girls," Sabrina laughed, looking away in embarrassment. 

"Never give up on the good times, as they say," Jenna replied. 

"Exactly," Sabrina said, amused. "My dad and Zach are both super into the old classics from the seventies and such—" she stopped herself. Jimmy crossed her mind then. He'd seemed to worm his way into her brain too often, creating a permanent little corner for himself in her mind. "I actually met someone—a famous musician at my job a couple months ago." 

"Really?" Jenna asked, intrigued. "Who?"

"Jimmy Page. The guy from Led Zeppelin? The guitarist...He came in to get fitted for some suits recently. Very nice guy." 

"Wow! I can't remember what he looks like, but I've certainly heard his name in the past. What was that like?" 

"To me, it was a normal client experience because I don't know him that well, but the kid who's apprenticing under me was going absolutely mental about it," Sabrina laughed again. She tried with all her might to mask any sort of attraction she might have had to Jimmy, but just talking about him sprouted an unmoving smile on her face. 

"Did you get to talk to him at all?"

"Yeah," she hesitated, "He was very flirty," her cheeks burned. 

"Oh! Rock stars always seem to live in their youth, I guess. He hasn't settled down yet?" 

Sabrina's bubble was briefly burst. Her smile fell.

"I'm not sure, actually. He told me he's got a daughter, but I don't....know anything about her," she picked a loose thread on her jeans. 

"Ah," Jenna nodded, "Well I'm glad that's something you can, erm, hold onto. It's always fun meeting new people. But, anyway, do you have any specific questions for me?"

"Yeah, uhm. I got a call—a while back. The message said you were trying to get a follow-up on how I was doing. There's nothing more I need to…do is there?" 

"Do...?"

"Like. Well, I've been doing much better since cutting off Shaun and I've slowly been detaching from all my connections to him…” Sabrina sighed, not wanting to sound insensitive, but with no way to better phrase her words. “I just want to put this all behind me.”

Jenna nodded. She seemed sympathetic. “I get it, Sabrina,” she paused for a beat and flipped through Sabrina’s chart. With a sigh, she looked back up at her. “Honestly? You seem like you’ve really progressed. Our services worked for you and everything seems to have improved significantly in terms of, you know, keeping away from the toxic environment you were in with your ex-boyfriend." 

"Thank you," Sabrina said in a hushed tone, a straight smile stuck on her face. 

"If you need anything else, please reach out to us. We're here to help you with whatever you may need. Are you in need of any kind of contraception? It would certainly help to avoid another situation like this." 

"I will," she affirmed, “And no, I’m taking a breather from any sort of sex...for the time being.”

"I'll leave my business card and some other brochures at the front desk for you. Make sure to leave your brother's name and phone number with them as well, I see Veda scribbled something here about updating contact information." 

Sabrina repeated herself and stood from the creaky examination table. "Thank you for everything, Jenna. You don't know how much I appreciate it." 

"Of course, Sabrina. It's what I'm here for. I hope everything goes well for you." 

Sabrina left the office feeling worse than she had come in. Lonely in her own world, she had isolated herself so much that she hadn't recognized the person she became in the last six months. 

After cutting off almost everyone who she had previously called a friend, Sabrina realized that she'd barely made any connections of her own at university. Stuck to Shaun's side for three of the four years, all of the people she'd made friends with were people Shaun had known for years. 

In the five months since the end of the relationship, she was making new discoveries like excavators digging up Egyptian ruins did. 

She needed a drink. 

Even better, she needed a night out. Sabrina hadn't been to a club since ending things with Shaun. She wondered if she was getting a little too old for partying. But then again, everyone needed to party once in a while. 

☽ 

The air on Sabrina's freshly shaven legs sent a chill of goosebumps up to her core. She shuddered as she and Conner waited outside of the club. In the past she'd frequented the place with Shaun and their friends. Now whenever she walked past it in the daytime, she grimaced in discomfort. And because Sabrina didn’t know of many other clubs in the general area that she enjoyed, she returned to Dreams for yet another night. Plus, she felt maybe she could reclaim the space for herself and create some good memories.

Conner, who was only a few inches taller than Sabrina on a good day, was level with her in her heels. The pink satin shoes took some getting used to again after being tossed into a closet for six months, and Sabrina's matching pink dress was another piece from the previous summer that squeezed her a little tighter than it had when she bought it. 

A short bout of pregnancy followed by penny pinching for six months changed her body more than she'd expected. Honestly, though, Sabrina's body was the last thing on her mind in the flurry of months 1998 had become.

"Sab, come on, we're next," Conner said. Her heels clicked quickly against the pavement as she was pulled along by him. Her head spun upon entering the club, the lights, colors, and sounds were oddly foreign to her in the time she'd been away from Dreams. A mass of people were crowded on the dancefloor; bumping, grinding, and probably more. Sabrina became uneasy in an instant. 

She and Conner claimed a standing table in the corner of the club, well separated from the hustle and bustle of the sweaty bodies moving along to the beat of Rhythm of the Night. 

The pounding bass thumped throughout Sabrina's entire body, the slight discomfort that came with her unmoving figure was indicative of how unaccustomed she became to clubbing. 

Sabrina nodded along to the song and watched the bright lights and lasers fly overhead and over the crowd. She could hardly remember the last time she was at Dreams. Probably sometime before Shaun's birthday in October....or was it on Shaun's birthday?

"Do you want a drink?" Conner shouted over the music. 

Her eyes refocused on his face and she nodded idly. She felt that everyone could notice how tense she was, how much this dress was not the right size anymore, and most importantly, how her arms were starting to resemble chicken breasts exposed the way they were. Not looking in the mirror one final time before leaving her flat was beginning to give Sabrina more anxiety than she thought she had avoided. 

Could everyone notice the flab of stomach poking out from her dress? Or did it just look magnified from the angle she stood at? A tightness formed at the base of Sabrina's throat and she suddenly felt the horrible need to cry. 

"I want to go home," she whispered to herself in her loneliness. For a fleeting moment, her mind touched on Jimmy. She wondered if he even attended clubs. Did he still party hard? "Rock stars always seem to live in their youth" Jenna's words echoed in her mind. Maybe he did...Probably not. 

Sabrina shook the thought of Jimmy from her mind. She tapped her foot against the cracked tile floor along to the end of Rhythm of the Night as a new song was crossfaded into the mix. Sabrina wasn't familiar with it, but it seemed to be good enough to jam to. 

Once she had a few drinks in her, Sabrina figured, she'd be able to loosen up a bit and have some fun. She came for the alcohol, after all. Getting drunk alone in her flat was becoming more sad than it was fun. 

Conner returned with their drinks, two lemon drop shots and two margaritas. Each drink was wildly different in color. 

"Right," Conner started, handing Sabrina a bright yellow shot glass. "To a good night," he held up the glass to hers.

"To a good night," Sabrina repeated, clinking glasses with Conner as the two downed the shots in a matter of seconds. With a click of their tongues, the two relished in the lemony sweet taste of the shots and nodded at each other, affirming the goodness of the shots. "We'll need another one of those later on," she said. 

"Agreed," he replied, and handed Sabrina her choice of margarita—a bright red one with a strawberry settled at the bottom of the glass. Conner's drink held a similar theme, though, bright green with a slice of lime at the bottom. 

They both sipped their margaritas.Sabrina felt the sugar and alcohol begin to course through her system. She felt better already. 

As time passed, Sabrina and Conner felt that they'd been in a vacuum, with each song playing and the alcohol in their systems increasing by the minute, the two were nearly drunk in a matter of hours. 

Sabrina touched the sweat on the nape of her neck and knew she needed to sit for a while. Taking a seat at the bar, she undid the straps on her heels, the strings coming off her calves with a slow, almost painful peel. 

"Sab," Conner said, approaching her smoothly, his hand touching her waist so as to capture her attention. The feeling sent a feeling she was not unfamiliar with through her body, but she dismissed it as fast as she could. "Gonna go for a smoke, I'll be back in a sec." 

"Alright, no worries," She replied somewhat distantly. Reaching into her miniature purse, she pulled an equally small claw clip. The hair she'd styled so carefully was now drenched in humidity and sweat. However, she knew those were the signs of a good night. 

"What can I get ya, dear?" the bartender asked, gum smacking between her teeth as she pulled a glass from a pile of ones that were on a drying rack.

"Just some water, please," Sabrina breathed, straightening out her back. She let her feet dangle on the stool, removing some of the pressure on them. She had certainly disconnected from her anxious thoughts about herself, her dress, her body, and everything in between. She was buzzed to say the least, but if she had a few more drinks, she knew she'd be able to get pissed the way she had wanted. 

Sabrina gulped down the water, catching her breath and steadying her mind in the meantime. People milled about around her, squeezing beside her to ask for a martini here, a piña colada there, another round of tequila shots elsewhere. Her eyes drooped only slightly before she heard a familiar voice a few feet away. 

"Oi, three Buds, please? Thanks." 

The sound of the voice alone made Sabrina's stomach recoil. If she wasn't careful, all the alcohol she'd consumed that night would be all over the bar top in a matter of seconds. It was Shaun. 

"Sabrina?" Another (familiar) voice exclaimed, Sabrina's eyes diverting in the direction of the voice. "Funny seeing you here, darling! How are you!" Sarah asked, approaching Sabrina around her side and hugging her with one arm around her back. As if a flip had been switched, she was suddenly aware of every atom of fat on her body and how unflattering her dress looked when seated the way she was. Sarah, of course, could never even dream of an ounce of fat on her body. Not even on her chest. 

"Sarah! Yeah, I'm alright. Just came out for a dance and a drink, you know...how have you been?" she asked, doing her best at a feigned politeness. 

"Good! Good. I'm with Shaun now—he’s here someplace," Sarah said, scoping out the place and locking eyes with Shaun where Sabrina had seen him. Sarah waved him over. "You here alone?" 

"Shaun?" Sabrina found was the only thing she could say.  

"Erm, yeah, we're—" she tried stalling the words, she was interrupted when Shaun made his way through the crowd to where she and Sarah were talking.

"Brina!" he said genteelly, grasping her shoulders forcefull the way he had always done when they were together. She hated it. "Sucks you couldn't come to dinner. 'S'alright, though, your mum said she'd reschedule for when you were available." 

"Right," Sabrina nodded, "I was actually just on my way out now. Was having a glass of water before I called a taxi." 

"Taxi's too expensive, B, come back with us, we'll split fares,” he said, patting Sarah on the arm. She gave him a smile that nearly resembled a grimace. Sabrina could only assume that having the three of them in a taxi was the last thing Sarah would have wanted. 

"No, it's—" she stammered, her heart pounding so hard she thought the embarrassment would kill her before the heart attack could. "I'm fine, Shaun." 

“I’m gonna go find Rachel,” Sarah said, a hand delicately touching Shaun’s arm as she started off. “Good to see you, Sab!” the blonde flashed a fake smile her way. 

As they both watched Sarah walk off, Shaun leaned onto the bar top with a bony, pale elbow. He attempted to force some sort of eye contact between them. "I've missed you, Brina," he said, his long, thin fingers playing at hers. Sabrina pulled her hands into her lap. 

"Mhm," Sabrina answered, only minding a glance back up at him. She tried her hardest to train her eyes onto her empty glass of water. 

"Don't tell me you haven't missed me, too?" Shaun asked, his voice low. 

"Can't say I have," she mumbled with a shake of her head. Her palms began to sweat. 

Shaun chuckled humorlessly. Sabrina felt his eyes burning into the form of her dress. Before she could beg him not to say anything, he barged through anyway. "Haven't seen this one in a minute...surprised it still fits." 

"Shaun—" 

"Three Buds, mate," the bartender interrupted, sliding three bottles over beside Shaun. 

"Alfie and Jacob are here, too, by the way," he said, collecting the bottles with a nod to the barkeep. "I know they'd love to come say hello before you go," he whispered before leaving Sabrina alone again at the bar. 

Once Sabrina was sure Shaun was gone and wouldn't be returning, she peeled her shoes off her dirty feet, carrying the heels with her to the door. After a quick look around, she saw the cloud of smoke coming from beside the club. 

"I'll be right back," Sabrina said to the bouncer, pointing to Conner where he stood taking drags of a cigarette. 

"Five minutes, love," the bouncer answered. 

Sabrina nodded, making a heady tread barefoot on the pavement. The minuscule rocks tore into her feet, but she figured it was better than walking on nearly formed blisters. 

"My ex is here," Sabrina said, throwing her heels to the ground. 

"What the fuck?" Conner answered, puffs of smoke following his every word. The stench of his cigarette would've ordinarily made her nose wrinkle up in disgust, but she instead chose to ignore it for the time being. 

"This is fucking ridiculous. Him and his little...squad," Sabrina spat. The tip of Conner's cigarette glowed when he inhaled its toxins. The smell almost didn't seem to bother her then. "Give me that." 

"You're not gonna—"

"Let me try it. See what the fucking hype is all about," Sabrina said, taking the cigarette, holding it between her fingers as if she'd been smoking forever. Monkey see, monkey do, right? 

She took a drag, letting the smoke infiltrate her airways. When the itch in her throat came about, she exhaled, coughing when the stench of the tobacco hit her senses. The taste of burnt coffee blocked her airways and she continued to cough away the taste as much as she could. "God, I hate that," she frowned.

"I told you—" Conner started, though the look Sabrina threw him stopped the statement where he left it. "You wanna go home?" he asked. 

Sabrina debated it, her heart rate having dropped since leaving the club. The smell of burnt hair was now replaced by the stench of cigarettes and whatever hung in the London air. She peered over at the bouncer, who met her eye and tapped at his watch. "Three minutes," he mouthed to her. 

"No," she said, defiant. 

"Alright. You wanna make him jealous?" Conner asked, taking a longer drag than he had taken previously. 

She almost answered no to that question as well, but something willed her not to. She hadn't wanted to make Shaun jealous. She wanted to make him angry. 

Sabrina and Conner had been able to have two more drinks before they spotted Shaun in the crowd again. If Sabrina spun her head too quickly, she'd be headed for the floor in the most embarrassing of moves. 

"That's him isn't it?" Conner asked, his lips so close to her ear that it sent a shiver up her spine. She'd never noticed him in any particular way before, but when she pursed her lips, it was as if the alcohol was pushing her to do something her sober mind would not have thought of.

She looked to her left, spotting Sarah and Shaun together, their thin bodies pressed impossibly close against one another. They danced like no one was watching. Sabrina knew her inability to do such a thing had made Shaun all the more angry in their relationship. 

Sarah held Shaun’s cheek in one hand, pulling his face to hers for a sloppy kiss. They smiled into each other, Shaun taking hold of her ass as they bopped along to the club music. 

Sabrina had nearly drawn blood when she realized how hard she'd been biting her lip. "That's him..." she answered. 

"Let's get closer, hm? So they notice us."

"I don't want them to come up to us," Sabrina said nervously. 

"They won't," Conner assured her. "I'm gonna grab your waist, alright?" 

Sabrina nodded, preparing her nerves for impact as Conner gently took her waist into his grasp. She tried to steady herself, relax herself, but she couldn't keep her eyes from watching each and every move Shaun and Sarah made. 

Sorry if I'm too soft, she wanted to apologize. She couldn't stop thinking about the way she looked, the way she felt, the way other men thought of her. Did other men think of her as their type? Did Jimmy—?

"Hey," Conner interrupted her bitter monologue. His voice was as soft as the plushest blanket she'd ever felt. When her eyes met his, her nervousness melted away. He wiped the tear that had nearly fallen from her eye. "It'll be alright. Just trust me." 

She nodded, taking hold of him as if it was second nature. Sabrina diverted her thoughts, allowing her and Conner's bodies to sway in joint, fluid motions, ignoring the world around them as much as they could. 

Conner's hands moved up from her waist, his fingers touching at her cheek when Sabrina's eyes began to wander to her ex-boyfriend. Finally, Shaun had caught their gaze. Conner guided her cheek so she was facing him, and in one swift motion he planted his lips onto hers. The alcohol and taste of their mouths melded into one, Sabrina's lip gloss smudging in that very moment. 

Lips parted, hot breaths met, and hands wandered. For once in much too long, she felt the comfortable twist in the pit of her stomach that forced her hips a hint closer to Conner's. Drunken minds took over for a brief moment, and before their tongues could meet, Sabrina could think of nothing more than Shaun's penetrating stare into their conjoined mouths and compressed bodies. 

She became uncomfortable in an instant. 

When they parted, Sabrina wiped at the edge of her mouth with her thumb. Her cheeks burned and Conner's hands returned to her waist where they belonged for the time being. 

"Too much?" Conner asked. 

"No, fine," she said with a shake of her head. "I think I'm ready to go. I got what I wanted." 

She got what she wanted, yet she wondered why she felt like shit for doing it.

Sabrina and Conner were scarcely out of the club when Conner was pulled back by an anonymous hand. 

"What the bleeding hell was that?" Shaun shouted, staring down Conner, then shifting his gaze to Sabrina, who was unsure of how to meet his glare. 

"She's not your girlfriend anymore, mate. You missed your chance," Conner answered. 

"In front of me, B? Are you fucking serious?" Shaun asked, looking past Conner once again to try and find a crack in Sabrina's exterior. Her soft shell was always easiest to get through to in a tense moment. 

"Don't talk to her," Conner said. Sabrina averted her eyes, looking behind Shaun to see Sarah hurriedly approaching behind him. 

"What are you, her fucking bodyguard? She can answer for herself. Right Sabrina?" Conner asked. 

"Shaun, stop it!" Sarah screamed, "Leave them alone!" 

Everything following then had been a blur to Sabrina. Her anxiety took over, rendering her silent for the better part of half an hour. This was particularly bad considering she was drunk, too. Conner had ushered them into a taxi once they'd left the club, figuring that after the night Sabrina had had, it would be far better than tubing back home. 

☽

"Sorry I kissed you," Sabrina mumbled as she stuck her key upside down into the lock. She corrected her error, blinking away the blur from her vision in the meantime. 

"Sorry?" Conner replied, not hearing her. 

"Sorry for causing a scene," she said instead. She didn't want to fully apologize for the kiss. She hadn't known if it was her who had commenced it or if Conner had, and she didn't want to offend him if that was the case. 

"You didn't," he said, surprised. "It's not your fault, you know?" 

They trekked up the stairs, shoes echoing on the walls of the bare stairway. Sabrina got her flat key ready. Since Conner lived outside of London—a city Sabrina couldn’t remember the name of—she let him crash at her flat after leaving the club.

She didn't answer him, her mind was too muddled for her to be able to form a whole response. Instead, she let out what sounded like an irritated sigh. 

"What are you thinking, Sab?" he asked.

The answer stewed in her mind for a moment longer than she would've liked. But she wanted to keep from giving Conner a disingenuous response. Her keys jingled in the key bowl beside the door and Sabrina peeled her heels off her calves for the second time, the dirt and sweat addled soles of her feet made balancing on the slippery wood floors a difficult task. With one foot on the rug in front of the sofa for leverage, Sabrina flopped onto the sofa with a sigh. 

"I made him mad. But at what cost? I don't feel any better," she said, finally looking up at Conner. 

He pulled his jumper off, tossing it idly onto the spot beside Sabrina on the sofa. "Well I don't think he would've hit you. Especially not in a public place."

"He could've gone after you," Sabrina said regrettably. She had wanted to get out of the sausage skin that her dress had become, but the comfort of the sofa overpowered her urge to undress. 

Her eyes met his again when he didn't respond right away. There was a look in Conner's eye that Sabrina couldn't quite make out. 

"Sabrina..." Conner started, "You're too good for this world," he chuckled. 

"Then why does everyone keep screwing me over?" She teased with an indignant laugh. 

"You're someone's dream girl, Sab," Conner trailed off, his eyes falling down to where her hand steadied her body on the brown suede sofa. His hand touched her wrist softly, the warmth was polarizing against her cool skin. 

Sabrina was more than familiar with the tone in his voice, having heard it many times from others in the moments before a kiss. Inside her, something went rotten and she felt like slinking away from Conner. Her inner instincts warned her otherwise, but her thoughts said otherwise. What if he was the one she belonged with? What if this was their first night into forever? She scarcely wanted to pass on the chance. 

But Sabrina quickly realized when Conner leaned in further that he wasn't her forever. Then, he was too quick for her to pull back. Conner kissed Sabrina with a more urgent force, like he had been ramping up to it all night, hungry for more after their first kiss on the dance floor. 

Sabrina squeaked in shock when his tongue found its way into her mouth, but she figured Conner must have mistaken it for a sound of confidence, as he placed his hand on her cheek and pulled her in tighter to his lips. Her heart began to race. In the kiss, she found that she was lost, unsure of what to do. So she sat still, waiting for Conner to decide he'd had his fill of her. 

He took in a breath, pursing his lips inward, "Was that alright?" he asked. 

With a swallow, Sabrina nodded insistently. "Great," she said softly, of course a lie. She could feel his alcohol and cigarette-ridden saliva drying on her lips. She remembered there was a lip scrub in her bathroom cabinet...

"You want to keep going?" He asked, his hand gentle, yet firm on her thigh. Her body gave her mixed signals: brain saying to stop, body begging to continue. It was so long since she'd last been touched. 

"Sure," Sabrina replied with a nod, ignoring her brain for the time being. It had been so long since she had gotten this sort of attention. From anyone. She didn’t want to say no.

Conner's palm on her thigh was clammy, and she could feel her skin dampening in his touch. Sabrina ignored all this, relishing in the feeling of being given positive reinforcement. Now her heart beat faster, but she began to feel more comfortable with Conner. The damp of his hands was starting to become more of a desirable feeling. 

It was then that Sabrina knew she'd jumped off the deep end. 

☽

The late May air was colder than she had anticipated it to be the next morning. Despite having gone out the night before, the air felt different. Sabrina felt different. 

She rubbed her tired, bare face and regretted it in an instant. Sabrina had touched all manner of dirty railings and doors on the tube ride over to Notting Hill Gate. She groaned and made the right turn into Boots. 

The smell of Conner's cologne was stuck on her cardigan. He wound up sleeping on the sofa, his head resting on her cardigan which had lay haphazardly on the sofa’s arm. She didn't know whether to wash it or chuck the sweater in the garbage. Any thought that deferred her mind from the previous night was welcome. While Sabrina stopped Conner before they’d wind up having any sort of intimacy past kissing on her sofa, the less she thought about it, the better. 

Over the course of the train ride to Boots, she had repeated her shopping list over and over in her mind. She knew she had forgotten something, since she'd left her shopping list in her flat, but acetone, shaving cream, and razors were a must for this trip. Sabrina was content enough with that. 

This Boots branch was one Sabrina already memorized like the back of her hand, and she grabbed the green acetone bottle from the nail polish section before making a beeline for the hair removal section. 

Sabrina looked closely at the razor options before her. Why did there need to be so many options, she asked herself. She reached for a pack of Venus razors, fifteen three-blade razors went for £5. Surely there was a better option. Sabrina searched for a five-blade. 

Finally, tucked in the back of a pile of three-blades, Sabrina pulled the package of ten five-blade razors. There was no price, of course, so she knew she'd be surprised at the till when she was ready to pay. She shook the thought away, reaching for the distinct pink can of Skintimate shaving cream she'd been buying for the last ten years, and cutting through the back-end of the store to avoid any extra foot traffic. 

Sabrina was usually this quick at Boots, leaving a minute or two for her to speculate what it was from her list that she had been missing. She stood in the middle of the store as people walked around her, oblivious to her presence. 

In a move of hesitance, she took a step towards Hair Care. There were only two people in the makeshift aisle. One man dressed head to toe in black, the other, an elderly woman. She paid little mind to either of them as she perused the shampoos. 

Pantene, Garnier, Herbal Essences....she wasn't sure which one looked best. She plucked the Pantene off the shelf and took a whiff of the Peachy scent. It was certainly undeniable. Sabrina took one off the shelf and tossed it into her basket. Shampoo and conditioner weren't exactly what she had been looking for, but—

"Sabrina?" a gentle voice asked; nasally. The black clothed man. 

Sabrina turned, losing grip of the conditioner bottle in shock when she saw who had just identified her. "Jimmy." It was like his name was a button she could press in order to kick-start her heart. Her cheeks flushed and her ears grew fiery hot. 

A smile spread across his face, the dimples in his cheeks turning into a multilayered smile. He leant over, reaching for the conditioner on the floor and placed it into Sabrina's basket. Then a whiff of something good and intoxicating lingered in her nose. "Don't look so happy to see me," he teased with a smirk. The five o'clock shadow on his chin made her draw in an extra breath of stability. Fuck he smelled delicious. 

"I—" Sabrina stammered. Her brain was empty. "How are you? How was America?"

His curls were tousled, cheeks and eyes puffy, indicative of a good night's rest. It was as if he tumbled out of bed and still managed to look entirely put together. Unlike Sabrina. Try as she might, the one back strand of her hair was still frizzed out beyond belief, there was a stain on her sweater she hadn't known the origin of, and her socks were mismatched. 

"I've been—It was good, great. Heat was miserable. Erm," Jimmy surveyed her face and body language, "Everything alright? You look..." he couldn't find the words. 

"Not really, no. Long night. Strange night." Sabrina couldn't help but be honest. The elderly woman beside them took notice of Jimmy in the moment. Sabrina had seen her walk over and take a peek. Jimmy was none the wiser. 

He nodded in understanding, "Happens to the best of us," he paused, "Listen, uh, sorry about calling you." Sabrina furrowed her eyebrows. "About two weeks ago," he continued. 

"Oh! Gosh, I nearly forgot," her heart sank to her stomach, "I figured it was a mistake or something. That you didn't mean to call..."

"Erm, no. Not really. But it's fine, I got everything settled." 

Sabrina took a half step back. Cardiac arrest was around the corner but she played it off expertly. "Oh?" 

"Just a little accident with one of the suits. A stitch caught on my nail and—pshh, it's so stupid. I'm sorry for bothering you on a Friday night."

“Did you manage to get it fixed?” Sabrina asked earnestly. She began to mentally arrange plans for him to take the suit back to the store so she could manage a quick fix for him, but he stopped her just as she began to imagine them back in the fitting area, close as could be. She nearly shuddered at the thought. Good or bad, she couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, I found an emergency sewing kit and, uh, I patched it up myself.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I had mishaps all the time back in the Led Zeppelin days. I didn’t think, I just called before even rationalizing…Sorry.” 

“No, no, I’m sorry!” Sabrina insisted, “I was having dinner with my family in Brent Cross, so I was just really…” she sighed, watching the way the look in his eye changed, “I don’t know. It would've been a welcome distraction.” 

“Right,” Jimmy chuckled, his cheeks widening with his smile. All Sabrina could think about was grabbing his cheeks like her gran always pinched hers as a child. Disgusted, she shook the thought from her mind. “Well, even if you did answer, I don’t think you could’ve helped me all the way in Brent Cross.” 

“Yeah, unfortunately not. But for your next fashion emergency, I hope I won’t be too far away.”

“I’ll just have to hire you to take care of my clothing mishaps, then. Have you on-call 24/7,” Jimmy teased. Sabrina’s heart beat a little faster in her chest. 

“Double my pay at Clarence’s or nothing,” she teased back with a giggle. A giggle? She was only slightly mortified at her response. 

“Done.”

She could no longer tell whether or not he was joking. Another customer walked past the two, eyeing Jimmy wildly like he’d just seen the Queen or something. Jimmy took no notice, but Sabrina saw the way the man watched her; predatory, almost jealous that she—a lowly woman was talking to thee Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin fame. The second her eyes met his, the man averted his gaze, paying much closer attention to the purple box dye beside him than to Jimmy and Sabrina. Or so she hoped.

“What?” she blurted out.

“I’d hire you to come work for me. Triple pay," he nearly shrugged. 

“Now you’re pulling my leg,” Sabrina rolled her eyes.

“I’ve got the money, Sab. Don’t doubt how serious I can be,” Jimmy smirked. It was the sort of shit-eating smirk he gave when he knew he could win her over; when he hoped his far reaches would be taken as something more. Sabrina’s palms began to sweat. “Plus, I could take you on tour with me. I bet you’d be fun on tour.”

“Yeah, alright. Talk to my boss about it, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to have his best employee whisked off by a rock star.” She hoped she sounded like she had been deterring him rather than egging him on. 

A third man shuffled by. His quick glance up at Jimmy stopped him in his tracks. Sabrina could tell the man was starstruck. Jesus, how recognizable is he? she wondered to herself. Again, Jimmy took no notice. He seemed to only have eyes for her. Now her mouth felt like someone had stuffed ten cotton balls into it. While she wanted to stay stuck bantering with Jimmy, she felt a bigger urge to run away from the Boots’ customers' prying eyes. 

“Excuse me,” the third man interjected. “Jimmy?”

Snapped out of his and Sabrina’s playful trance, Jimmy blinked and the joyful demeanor was replaced by a false one, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Aw man. Been a huge fan since I was a kid. Would you mind signing something for me?”

Uncomfortable watching the interaction take place, Sabrina made brief eye contact with Jimmy once again, telling him through her expression that she’d be going. Without waiting for a nod or response of disagreement, she rushed to the till. 

The sweat on her palms transferred onto the shampoo and conditioner bottles that she hadn’t planned on picking up. She took in a deep breath, Jimmy’s cologne remaining in her nostrils for one final inhale, distracting from the heady smell left on her cardigan from the night before. She was glad to have stopped to pick out some extra hair products. 

a special thank you to @jonesyjonesyjonesy for beta reading this (esp while she's on vacation!!)

masterlist | playlist