Chapter Eleven
Emerson
Four years ago…
“I fucking saw you!” Miles yells, the palm of his hand slamming against our bedroom wall and I flinch. “What were you saying to him, hmm?”
I wince at the connection from his hand. “I was telling him how to get to the library,” I repeat for the fourth time. “I promise, Miles.” My voice is shaking.
A prospective student had accidentally gotten lost from his tour group and had asked me for directions to the Butler Library while I was on my way back from class.
I’d politely told him where to go and sent him on his merry way. I didn’t even know his name. But Miles happened to be heading into campus at the same time for his next class, and now, here we were.
The same place we end up if I even so much as look in a male’s direction.
“Is he waiting for you?” The ice in his voice sent a shiver down my spine before settling in the pit of my stomach. He’s wearing that same barbaric expression I’ve learned means nothing good .
My blood runs cold, my pulse throbbing in my neck. I only have a short window to defuse the bomb before it explodes. “No, I swear, Miles, it wasn’t like that,” I try to reason. “I love you.”
“I bet you told him all about the Dogging Corner, didn’t you? Is he waiting for you there? Waiting for you to show up and spread your legs for him like the slut you are?”
“No, Miles.” My voice wobbles as the familiar fear starts to creep into my gut, the fear that surfaces each time he gets angry these days. “Please believe me.” I try to take his hand in mind, but he yanks it away.
His face contorts in disgust as he stares down at me like I’m a piece of dirt on his shoe. “Why would I believe a stupid bitch like you? I saw the way you were looking at him, Emmy. You were practically fucking drooling over his cock right there.” He lets out a menacing laugh as he starts to crowd me.
“That’s not true! Miles, I love you,” I plead with him. Please believe me . “I only ever want you.” I take a shaky step back as he gains in, the inhumane look in his eyes reminding me of what will come next if I don’t tread carefully.
“As you should,” he scoffs, the venom of a poisonous spider dripping off his tongue. “Do you realize how lucky you are to have someone like me? Women throw themselves at me, offering themselves to me on a plate. Hot ones too, with a much perkier ass than the fat one you’ve got. But I turn them down because it wouldn’t be fair to you. Do you realize how thoughtful I am? And this is how you repay me, by going and flirting with other guys!”
“Miles, please.” I fight the tears pooling in my eyes, the threat of what may happen next looming over me.
He hates it when I cry, it makes him angrier.
And the angrier he is, the more it hurts.
It hasn’t always been like this. At the start, Miles was everything I could have ever dreamed of. He was kind, attentive, and funny. I thought I’d found the one .
Then he started getting angry.
And I started developing bruises.
But despite everything he does to me, I can’t leave. I foolishly love him and crave those sweet, delicate words he ushers to me after one of his episodes, cleaning the wounds he inflicts.
I told myself, “Next time. If it happens again, I’ll leave him next time.”
But a year has passed since then and I’m still here.
“You know, I thought you learned your lesson about flirting with other men last time,” he grumbles, his fierce eyes lasering in on me as he backs me into a corner.
I put my hands out in front of me, preparing for any blows that could come my way.
“Seems I need to be more creative,” he mutters, though mostly to himself, and my heart stills .
“Please, Miles,” I gulp. “Plea—” but my words are interrupted by a sharp pain coming from my head and before I know it, my feet are involuntarily following him as he uses his grip on my hair to drag me out of our bedroom. “Miles!” I scream, this time letting myself cry, urging him to listen. “Miles, please!”
Please let me go.
I love you.
Please. Please. Please.
My hands are trembling, my legs are about to give way. Not that that would stop him, he would simply drag me on my knees like he has before.
I try to loosen his grip on me, but he is so much stronger; it’s no use. By the time we reach the top of the stairs, I’m a wreck, sobbing between my pleas for him to let me go.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he gazes down at me with hollow cheeks and a stern jaw, looking nothing like the man I fell in love with.
There was no resemblance between them at all. This man is cruel and soul-crushing. He gets off on my pain the same way I get off on his love.
“Maybe this will help you learn,” he says before releasing his grip on my hair and shoving his palms into my chest.
I lose my balance, my eyes too blurry from my tears to see what I can cling to, and he sends me tumbling down the wooden staircase.
My body collides with the hard surface, a knee-buckling pain shooting up my back as it falls first.
My neck rolls as my body stumbles over itself and my head smashes against the railing.
Tortuous waves of agony shoot to different parts of me, and I can hear the cracks of the bone in my ankle alongside his laugh.
I try to scream, but my mind is so focused on locating the pain and working in overdrive that nothing leaves my throat.
Instead, I carry on tumbling, crashing with the wood in every movement until I am sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs, pain rippling through me, something wet touching my head, and everything fading into black.
Five hours later :
Pain.
Everywhere. My head. My arms. My legs. My back.
Pain.
Constant, mind-numbing pain.
What happened?
Miles.
Directions.
Angry Miles.
Stairs.
Lots of stairs.
Miles threw me down the stairs .
My eyes flutter open, only to squeeze shut again. Jesus, it’s fucking bright . I blink several times, allowing my vision to adjust to the light.
The first thing I see is the thick cast plastered around my ankle. It’s huge and attention-demanding, covering most of my leg, and heavy.
I frown. I’m in a hospital bed.
Miles never takes me to the hospital.
Suddenly the door to my room burst open and Atlas storms in looking both distressed and exhausted. His golden hair is sporadic like his hands have been running through it, and his skin is pale, like he hasn’t seen sunlight for days. “Emmy,” his voice cracks. “You’re awake!”
I wince as he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me into a bear-size hug.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” he demands when he pulls away. “I swear to God, Emmy, I’m going to kill that fucker in the most horrific, painful way possible. I’m—”
I tap his arm, bringing his attention back to me. “Water?” I wheeze, and Atlas immediately finds a glass and passes it to me.
I sigh in relief at the hydration before returning to Atlas’ worried gaze. “What happened?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
“What happened is your boyfriend wants to pray I never get my fucking hands on him, because when I—”.
“Atlas,” I groan, he knows that isn’t what I meant.
Atlas positions himself at the edge of my bed, his fists clenched so tight I worry he is hurting himself. “Miles has been arrested, Emmy.”
“Oh,” is all I manage to say.
Atlas presses his lips together for a moment, before continuing. “Your neighbor heard a bang coming from inside the house and called 911. When they arrived, you were lying at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious in a pool of your blood with Miles nowhere to be found.”
He left me?
I could have died !
No… he left me to die.
“They found the fucker an hour later,” Atlas informs me, though I could see a hint of hesitancy flicker across his face.
“Tell me, Atlas.”
After a moment of silence, he finally says, “They found him hooking up with another woman at one of the frat parties.”
Ripples of disgust and betrayal rush through me, making me sick to my stomach.
But the feeling marries with an overwhelming sadness, a devastating pain that sinks in my stomach. He was with someone else ?
Then anger.
A lot of fucking anger.
What kind of sick bastard would let his girlfriend almost bleed to death while he goes and fucks another girl?
“There’s something else.”
I pale. “What?”
“You lost the baby, Emmy. The fall… you… it…,” he takes a breath. “You’ve suffered a miscar riage as a result of the fall.”