This was my last resort—that the police would help me, that they would take this seriously and take Ryan away from me.
Darkness surrounds my vision, and tears fall until I can’t cry anymore. I really thought they would be willing to help me. I know if I leave he’ll find me.
Wiping my face with the sleeve of the hoodie, I get up. If the apartment isn’t clean when he gets home, there will be hell to pay.
It’s hard to believe how the woman could be so cold, making it seem easy to walk away when he would never allow me to leave.
Hours pass, and as I finish scrubbing the sink clean, the door slams. I flinch, inhaling a deep breath to get ready for the night. I’ve made his favourite dinner, beef stew, and hope for an evening with the nice guy I once fell for.
“Wanna know something interesting, Clara?” His irritated voice coats my nerves with tension.
I turn to him and smile, waiting for his news.
“A police officer called me at work today. I had to take a break. Boss man wasn’t so fucking happy aboutthat. The police informed me they got a call from you. Apparently, I’mhurtingyou and you want to leave, but I’m keeping you here?”
I grit my teeth, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Not so fucking chatty now, are you?” He throws his lunch bag at me and opens the fridge to grab two beers before heading out to the patio.
No, no, no.The police did nothing, but they weren’t supposed to put me in the bullseye. I can’t move. Dread courses through me. I can never do anything right.
Maybe I am the worthless whore they said I’d always be. My lungs feel empty, and I wish I could fucking disappear.
With a deep breath, I turn to the counter and wipe the spotless space. I don’t know how to smooth this over. There isn’t a word that can soothe the cracks I’ve caused.
“Clara, beer!” His voice flows through the apartment from the patio.
I hesitate before reaching for another two glass bottles, each filled with the poison that gives him the courage to rip me to shreds.
As I walk out to give them to him, I tread over the soft carpet, each step feeling like broken eggshells that tear at my soul. Fear is at least half of my blood type, and bile rises in the back of my throat with the unknown that lies ahead.
It wasn’t always this way. He was kind when I met him. Red flags popped up in the controlling winds that fluttered through our relationship. In hindsight, I missed crucial exits.
The first time he struck me, I should have left. Many breakups have sprinkled through our years together, but he always brings me back.
It’s like I’m tied to him, and I’ll never be able to break free from the hold he has on me.
“Sit.” His jaw clenches as he chugs the beer. Opening the other, he sips it and glances over at the backyard.
I settle into the wooden chair beside him. Nerves erode any armour I might have, and my heart is raw from the wait.
“You know, I always loved you. No one could hold a flame to you, not even the other bitches who blew me from time to time. But you don’t fucking quit, do you? Always with the theatrics—running away, and now this fun petty act of calling the pigs on me.”
“I’m sorry.” I pick at the peeling wood on the armrests of the chair, just like he removes the layers of my shattered existence.
“You’re not. You thought those coppers would help you? Clara, I’m never leaving. You can never get away from me. I’llalwaysfind you. I’ll take everything you love and destroy it. Mark my words, I’ll strip the flesh from your bones and dispose of you.” His voice is chillingly quiet, each word dripping with promise and malice. “What did you make me for dinner?” he asks, the words slurred. He’s had more than beer tonight.
“Beef stew.”
“Let’s go eat dinner, shall we?” He grins and rises unsteadily from his seat.
When I stand, he grasps my wrist and walks beside me to the sliding door.
Ryan's hand tightens around my skin, and his other slams me against the house. “You’ll never fucking escape me. I own you, cunt.”
He grips my hair and pulls me away from the house before rearing his fist to connect with my cheek.
As I fall against the bricks, he grips the base of my skull and presses me harder against the rough texture.
