what you can't have (b.e.)

violent

inspo: violent, carolesdaughter

~

Don't make me get violent, I want my ring back baby that's a diamond...

Billie's POV:

"How much is she worth to you?"

I don't know anymore.

I make eye contact with Mila, thinking the worst of thoughts.

I'm sick of the bad guys, of constantly running from violence. It started with Mila's dad, and the violent undertones have never subsided. I'm sick of the earth splitting open every other month and narrowly escaping falling through the cracks every time. Mila makes me feel weak, in the best and the worst ways. I need to find that part of myself I used to have, even if I was a bitch and Mila was a bitch, we were stronger.

"Give me a number," I glare at him, not wanting to play this game. If he lets us go, it sets a precedent. But if I give him money, it also sets a precedent, and puts us at an even greater risk, that I can be manipulated if someone threatens to hurt Mila. Who comes out of this as the push-over?

"I'll take it easy on you, let's settle on a million," he spins a gun in his hand and drops his amount.

"You hurt her, even a scratch on her forehead, and you get nothing," I push past the men and kiss Mila's forehead. She whispers in my ear quiet enough for only me to hear, 'carrot.'

"Pleasure doing business with you, bad guy," he laughs, holding his hand out to me, expecting me to shake it. I turn around and leave out the front door.

I can't breathe as I walk fast back to my car. I don't know what she means. She's trying to tell me something, but it could mean anything. Last time when I said it, it meant I'm already here, I'm gonna get you out of this. Is she gonna get me out of this? How, when she's the one held hostage? Does she have a plan? Or does she want me to come up with a different plan?

I put the car in reverse, hearing a loud crunch. I sigh and open the door, checking under the tires.

"Fuck, not again."

I pick up the pieces of Mila's shattered skateboard and put them in the backseat.

Mila's POV:

Petals off of flowers, did you ever really love me?

I hear the door shut and wonder how this goes, wonder what's worse: an unstable maniac trying to kill me to date my girlfriend, or a drug dealer holding me for a million dollar ransom. I also wonder if a part of me loves the instability of it all, or maybe it's a learned helplessness or a stockholm syndrome. I can't keep wishing for some normalness, and get let down when something new happens. So I fall in love with the disaster, and when nothing's going wrong, I create new problems.

What scares me the most is that somewhere along the way, Billie started doing the same thing.

I hear them talk around me, making bets.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I pipe up a few minutes later. They laugh.

"Don't try to pull that shit on me," he shakes his head.

"Okay, I'll just piss on your couch," I shrug, and start to unzip my jeans. He watches me, seeing how far I'll really go. I start to worry after I've taken off my pants that he won't fall for it, but then he caves in.

"Take her to the bathroom, you," he points at one of the guys behind me, and I try to not look relieved.

The guy holds my wrist tight as he walks me to the bathroom, shutting the bathroom door behind us. He stares at me and I look back and forth between the toilet and him.