Don't Make Me Beautiful by Elle Casey

her for money hasn’t come back; that’s the only bit of good news she’s had lately.   All the rest has her terrified, especially that police officer that’s come back twice now trying to get her to confess to what happened.   She continues to refuse, knowing it will lead John right to her.
    Brian looks up from his Kindle.   “Oh, you’re awake.   Good.”   He smiles big.   “How’re you feeling?”
    “Better.   A tiny bit better.”   She tries to smile back but her split lip is still too sore.
    “Ready to go home?” he asks.
    She has a near heart attack before he rushes to correct himself.
    “I mean, are you ready to leave?   To go to your new home?”
    “No,” she says, breathing easier, “I’m not ready for any of that.”
    He gives her a commiserating frown.   “I know.   But it’s going to be okay.   You just need to trust me.”
    “You’ve said that a few times.”   She picks at the covers on her leg, trying to move past the awkward moment.
    “Yes, I guess I have.   Sorry.   Just tell me when I’m being annoying.   I can’t guarantee I’ll stop, but I’ll try.”
    “I don’t even know you.”   She feels angry for some reason.   He’s being so nice.   She’s not used to nice.
    “Do you need to?”
    “Yes?   I think?   Don’t I?”
    “I’m a person, you’re a person.   We’re both here in this world just trying to get by, be with people we care about, be good to others.   I’m that guy.   What else do you need to know for right now?”
    “For right now?”
    “Yeah.   For the period of time it takes you to get back on your feet.   What do you need to know, other than that?”
    “I need to know who you are, what you do, about your background … everything.”
    “Why?”
    “Because! Because …”   She tries to think of all the reasons why, but she can’t come up with anything.   Tears come again.   It seems she never runs out of the damn things.
    Brian puts his Kindle down on the table and walks over to the bed, taking her hand.   “You can know whatever you want about me.   I’m an open book.   Ask me anything you want.”
    “Where are you from?”
    “I grew up in upstate New York, but I moved down here with my parents in high school.   I’ve lived here ever since.”
    “What do you do for a living that makes it okay for you to be here all this time?   Aren’t you going to get fired?”
    “No,   I’m self-employed.   I re-finish furniture and antiques.   I have a workshop at my house and a storage facility for bigger things not far away from my house. I have all the time in the world that I need to be here, so don’t worry about that.”
    “Where are your parents now?”
    “Dead.   As of three years ago.   They went within two weeks of each other.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be.   They were happy and they died that way.   No regrets.”
    “Are you married?”
    “Nope.   I was.   Now I’m not.”
    “Where is your ex-wife?”
    “She’s in town, about fifteen minutes from my place.   She’s got our son right now.   Normally he lives with me.   She travels a lot for work, but she’s going to keep him for a few more days for me while I get you settled.”
    “What if I don’t want to get settled?”   She feels mutinous right now.   Like she needs to challenge him.
    “Then tell me where you want to go, and I’ll bring you there.   Anywhere but where you came from.”
    She looks away, staring at the wall.   “I need to go back.”
    “Bullshit.”   He reaches up and puts a single finger on her chin, guiding her face back and forcing her to look into his eyes.   “You are not going back there.   I don’t care what you say or what bogus bullshit poor-me excuse you try to come up with, I’m not letting you go back.   So, get that crap out of your head right now.   Banish it.   Forever.   Gone.”
    “You’re not my keeper,” she says as angry, frustrated, and sadly hopeful tears pour down