Page 69 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

I perch on the edge of the couch and fold my hands in my lap. Sean remains standing, which creates a power dynamic I don't like; I feel small under his gaze.

"What's going on? You're worrying me."

He exhales, shoulders dropping as if he finally realizes how he appears. He joins me on the couch. "Sorry. I don't want to dance around this, so I'll just say it. There is someone following you."

The worry morphs into that first jolt of panic, the one that always cracks through me like someone is trying to restart my heart. My brain scrambles to process, to deny, to explain away.

I don't think Sean is a liar, but I have to ask, "You're sure?"

"Yeah. We spotted two men that were too similar to each other. Similar build and clothing. Navy baseball caps. They were coordinating and taking turns following you. When one left the area, the other appeared. It wasn't random. Mike and I both agree it was organized surveillance. One of them spotted me and knows I'm your security."

The man in the baseball cap.I sensed it. I knew it.

But there's two?

Oh no. What if they're the same men who threatened me in Cali?

I press my palms flat against my thighs, seeking something solid to ground me as I slip into memories from my old apartment.

I was asleep, or trying to sleep. After The Director's assault, I'd barricaded myself in my apartment, trying to piece myself back together enough to make an appearance on set. My job meant the world to me, and I couldn't lose it. Even if it meant seeinghim.

I had no idea how they entered so soundlessly. They were two hulking silhouettes in the dark, grabbing me and covering my mouth before I fully woke up.

One of them yanked me off the bed. My legs were tangled in the sheets, so they were pulled along with me as the man lifted me and then slammed me against the wall. The other man pressed an elbow into my chest, holding me in place. I gasped and wheezed through gritted teeth.

"Told anyone about Alan Miller's party?" the first one snarled.

I shook my head furiously, desperate to make them believe me. I hadn't seen anyone for over a week.

A punch to my stomach knocked the air from my lungs. Pain exploded from all the healing cuts from The Director's knife. I doubled over and collapsed against the man who restrained me.

"Don't lie," he growled, shaking me until my teeth rattled.

"I swear… I didn't…"

"Then you're gonna keep your mouth shut," one of them said. I'd lost track of who was speaking because I was shaking so much.

A fist drove into me again, making stars burst behind my eyes. Something cold and hard pressed against my temple: a gun barrel.

"You're a cunt actress and no one will believe you."

I nodded.

"Say it."

"No one… no one…" I couldn't get the words out through the sobs and violent trembling.

One of them struck me in the face and my head hit the wall. Pain rippled through my skull. The gun barrel moved to the middle of my forehead.

Summoning every bit of strength, I kept myself together long enough to say what they wanted. "No one will believe me," I finally whispered.

"Pack your shit and leave the state by Friday. You have four days. Don't fly. Don't take a train or bus or go anywhere too populated. Rent a vehicle. Make sure no one recognizes you. You're a nobody now."

Another blow and I hit the floor this time, curling into a ball and trying not to shake apart.

They loomed over me. "Never come back. If you're still here Friday, and if you ever open your fucking mouth, you'll get locked in a room again and you won't get out."

I squeezed my eyes shut and wished myself away. Wished I was dreaming. Wished I was dead and floating above the world where no one could hurt me ever again.

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