AN: I did warn y'all that Meghan is nothing like Phoebe.

Carson reels back from my hit and takes him a solid minute to recover, not that I can really blame him .

Rough sex to pure violence is honestly not a transition anyone should expect outright.

"I counted every bruise, bump, and fractured rib you ever gave me. You honestly believe I'd forgive and forget that shit!?" I yell into his face.

I take aim and swing directly into his diaphragm. The sweet noise of air leaving his lungs has me smiling in my rage. His grunt of pain has my head tipping back again in ecstasy, this time it's my soul that's receiving the euphoric feeling.

To be honest-pretty sure I look fucking psycho, but this is a moment I've dreamed about.

"You honestly assumed I'd forget the times I had to wear thick ass foundation to cover the black eyes? The busted lips? The bruising on my cheeks?"  I swing at his face again and hurt my hand on his nice chiseled jaw.

"Fuck you! And fuck you I did." I look to the knives on the table beside us but don't feel any inkling to use them. I shake out my hand while looking for something to cause maximum pain because just my fists alone aren't up for the task.

My gaze then finds the bloody knuckles.

~~~

"You'll have to find me someone else if he dies." Trujillo's detached voice says through a hidden speaker.  

Looking down, I can admit that I went a bit overboard but I then chalk it up to the karma Carson deserved. With interest.

Carson's face is heavily swollen to the point that facial recognition couldn't get a ping on him. So really I'm just doing everyone a favor when they go to move him over state lines.

I mean *technically* it raises another problem because it's obvious that Carson got his ass beat, but it's not here or there. Quite simply, it's not my damn problem how they handle this.

The now literal bloody knuckles fall from my hands and clank loudly onto the concrete floor. My hands might be in severe pain but I don't feel it right now. I feel nothing but relief.

Finally, I can stop cowering and pretending to be in love with this piece of shit. Now hopefully I can stop thinking of the time when he threw me down a flight of stairs, I let one of his friends into the apartment when he wasn't there. We didn't do anything, and even if we did that isn't how he should've handled it.

Maybe I'll stop waking up in a cold sweat reliving the time he almost raped me at a house party because I refused to sit in his lap while he was chatting with his people. I was forbade to look like a "slut" but I was supposed to throw myself around him in a way to let everyone know we were fucking.

Because that makes sense.

I almost gave up on the ruse right then and there honestly, the only thing that stopped him was the fact that he had whisky dick.

And because I knocked him out from behind. The next day he could only remember the limp dick so it was never a topic to be brought up. Ever.

I'm glad that Trujillo already castrates the men he captures, because I'm not sure I can look him in the eye and tell him why I'd want it. Not entirely sure if I'm more afraid of crying in front of the man or Trujillo not caring about my trauma. It's up in the air at this point and that's where it'll stay.

The very first thing I'm going to do, and I decided this while bashing in Carson's face, is get a tattoo to cover up his name that's placed on my right hipbone.

I can't decide if I want something slutty or artistic. Or maybe something badass will do. Either way I need it to be covered up before anything else.

Nothing stays in my mind as I leave the facility, my mind racing with possibilities. I process no faces or specific landmarks. I don't even stop to converse with Trujillo because we don't require words. He knows that I'll only ever come to him again if I'm on my deathbed, and I know that there's already a lump sum of money in my bank account to get me started.

I also know that he'll be watching my every move, but I've been watched by him since my teens so it's nothing new. Every couple of months I'll send him a postcard and he'll leave me be.

Spotting a blue lambo in the parking lot, I know automatically that it's my new car. Trujillo only ever gives me blue things to match my eyes. I used to love it as a kid but as an adult, it's simply annoying because blue isn't even my favorite color. Especially not on a Lamborghini.

The door is unlocked and when I pull down the visor, the keys predicatively fall right into the palm of my hand. There's also a duffel bag in the passenger seat.

Inside I find a new phone, license, social security card, cash, and a change of clothes. It's nothing but a plain white t-shirt and some jean shorts but it makes all the difference to me.

Revving the engine, I speed out of the parking lot like the cops are after me.

Once I hit the highway I think about turning around for some of the stuff at the apartment but a deep compulsion keeps the car straight and presses down a little harder on the accelerator.

A clean break.

After I've been driving for an hour I decide to look up a tattoo parlor on my new phone's GPS. Without taking time to look, I click on one and let the nice lady lead me.

Risky move? Yes.

But I also know a guy who will torch the entire place if I get an infection.

My car gets a lot of looks as I pull up and I can't blame them. The neighborhood isn't bad but the most expensive car I've seen is a Mercedes C class that's been around for a couple of years. I pick up the duffel and drop the keys under the seat when I'm sure no one's looking.

I walk into the shop and send out a quick text.

Car's too flashy. 😒

The receptionist is a cute emo chick that's dressed to look like she's seem some shit. I almost laugh at her fake bored face but decide against it.

She's one of the first ones I saw running away from the windows when I started walking towards the shop.

"What?" Cutie grunts out.

"Where are your bathrooms?" I ask nicely. We all have masks.

I pretend to be nice, she pretends not to be interested in anything, and everyone pretends not to be listening to us talk. The girl waves her hand to the back and immediately I'm grateful that I didn't laugh at her.

She could've just as easily sent me outside or to the regular customer restrooms that are complete shit. We all know that the restrooms in the back, behind the curtain, are far better than the one's in front. Lady luck has my back because the first tattoo parlor I went to didn't even have one restroom.

When I get back I'm wearing the white t-shirt and jean short combo. Trujillo forgot to pack in some different shoes for me but when do men ever get everything packed?

He got the essentials and that's all I care about.

Walking back to the receptionist, I give her the now folded up green dress and twenty bucks as a thank you.

She looks at me confused and I smile brightly without anything negative pulling at me or any fakeness.

"You can have the dress, the twenty is for dry cleaning because there's some blood on it." My voice doesn't carry any judgement or suggestion. All I make clear is that I don't want the damn thing. For all I care, she could burn it and keep the cash.

It's the only thing I'll offer her because the bra and panties I wore with the dress are in their bathroom's trash can.

Commando feels good.

A good looking black guy walks up to us and assesses me head to toe before speaking. He's the only one with the balls to approach me, everyone else is either with another client or taking quick peaks.

"What you looking for?" His voice has a hint of flirt but can be taken as strictly business if I wanted.

He gets a flirty smile out of me for that approah. Game recognizes game and he's got it. If I had known he was here, I wouldn't have fucked Carson.

I sigh out in misfortune and get to the point.

"I need to cover up my ex's name." I state while pulling my jean shorts down low. So low that my pus is almost on display.

His eyes widen and not even the cutie can keep up her fact. She looks scandalized while the tattoo artists looks like he wants to eat me up.

"Are you the man for the job?" I ask plainly. As much as I want to fuck around, I don't have the energy for two guys in one day. On top of getting back into mood, I'd have to clean myself up and ask the important questions I didn't have to ask the first time because I knew Carson.

He smiles at me in understanding and tilts his head towards his station.

"You know what you want?" He asks.

"Something badass." I answer immediately.

He nods his head and tells me a price without letting me know what I'm going to get.

"Go pay her now because I don't want you running out if you don't like it." He instructs.

I do so immediately because something in me is just saying 'go with the flow' and I can tell he's not going to punk me with some flower bullshit.

An hour later my artist, who's name I found out is Sean, tells me I'm done and that I can see it in the mirror if I want.

Taking another risk, I decide against seeing my tattoo. Instead of judging me, Sean writes a small note and folds the paper up and tells me to read it when I see his work. He then wraps me up and I leave the shop.

In the spot where I left the lambo is a nice looking Jeep. I smile at my new ride and immediately fall in love. This is probably the car the guy who was following me had.

Now he'll have to go to one of the shops to switch it out because the lambo was obvious as hell.

Jumping in, I put on a random playlist in Spotify and decide to drive until I feel like stopping.

~~

Eventually around four in the morning I'm forced to stop at a 24 hour motel because my eyes can't stay open any longer.

The attendant is greasy and the room is dingy but it a place to lay my head.

Later on when I wake up, I decide that it's time I see my tattoo.

My first reaction is laughter. My second is pure joy.

'You seem like a chick that would let a man get close enough to kick his ass. He didn't deserve you.' ~Sean

He covered up Carson's name with an all black, filled in scorpion. There's nothing overly done about it and yet the curves and minute details say that he knew what he was doing.

Intuition didn't lead me astray because I'm glad I decided not to look at it there because a few tears slipped out.

I'm finally free. I kept saying it but now it's a reality.

So what next?

AN: After the book is done I might have a chapter when she's first getting Carson's name on her skin. 🤔