Chapter 1 #2
Panic clawed at my throat, but I met his eyes straight on. My chin wobbled, but I bit down on my molars and swallowed hard. “I’m done.” My heart banged against my chest. “We’re done.”
His smile vanished.
“Let.” I sucked in a shallow breath. “Me.” Released it on a shaky exhale. “Go.”
His hand moved so fast I didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across my cheek and I stumbled, catching the back of my ribs painfully on the edge of the entryway table.
“Heath—” I gasped.
“You think you’re brave now?” He grabbed my arms and twisted, slapping me again and again, each strike measured…punishing. His voice rose, echoing off the marble fixtures throughout the room. “You think walking away makes you strong?”
Another slap cracked across my face, splitting my lip and filling my mouth with the bitter taste of copper.
“You were never more than convenient.” His voice dropped to a venomous sneer. “Pretty enough to show off. Quiet enough to control. That’s all you ever had going for you.”
A scream ripped from my throat as he shoved me hard into the back of the sofa.
“You want to be done?” he seethed through gritted teeth. “So be it.”
I tried to curl into myself, to disappear, but the rage in his eyes held me captive.
When he finally stormed out, after cleaning himself up into the polished version the rest of the world saw, I collapsed onto the couch, trembling.
My cheek burned, my lips throbbed, and bruises had already started to blossom across my skin.
But I didn’t cry. I didn’t move. Minutes passed, or maybe it was longer.
Time twisted and blurred around the edges of my vision as I lay there with my body curled in on itself and my limbs feeling like dead weight.
The distant ticking of the clock and the occasional honk of traffic twenty stories below were my only reminders the world was still moving.
I stared blankly at the chandelier above me, watching the remaining day’s light catch and scatter across the ceiling in a spray of golds and purples.
The cold marble floor pressed into my side where I’d slid from the couch, but I was too numb inside to feel it.
Moving slowly, I sat up and bit back a sob as my ribs protested the movement.
I let the tears come then, because holding them back hurt more than letting them fall.
And as they rolled down my cheeks—hot, silent, and full of everything I’d tolerated for the past year—I remembered the bag.
Tucked in the back of the closet.
Always packed.
Always ready.
Just in case.
Because you don’t keep a bag packed for someone you believe in…
You keep it for someone you’re surviving.
Blinking away the memory and cursing Heath’s name, I pulled my long, bleached hair to the side to gain a better view before meeting my gaze in the mirror. A surge of anger pulsed through my limbs at the woman staring back at me—the woman he forced me to be.
Not anymore.
Grabbing the boxes of drugstore hair dye from the counter, I ripped them open and spilled the contents out in front of me.
The harsh scent of ammonia hit me immediately, stinging my nostrils and making my eyes water.
I pushed through it, though, squeezing the developer and color together in a bottle and shook it hard until the mixture turned a deep, muddy brown.
I then slipped on the crinkly plastic gloves that were way too big for my hands and sectioned off my hair, smearing the thick, creamy dye from roots to ends.
The whole process felt completely chaotic but at the same time… liberating.
Heath loved my blonde hair and made it clear that dark hair wasn’t “his thing.”
Funny…he didn’t seem to mind brunettes when he was slinking into the restaurant I worked in every Friday night, staring at me like I was the only thing on the menu worth ordering.
Didn’t seem to mind me, dark hair and all, when he used to leave hundred-dollar tips just to get my attention.
Back then, he liked my curves, my smart mouth, and my dark hair.
But once he had me? He wasted no time at all changing all the parts he claimed to love.
Thirty minutes later, I stood hunched over the bathroom sink, towel-drying my freshly rinsed hair.
The blonde was all gone, darkened to a rich brown that wasn’t quite my natural color, but it was close enough.
The girl staring back at me now through the spotted mirror resembled that girl I used to know—even if she wasn’t quite whole yet.
Padding back out to the room, I crossed to the window and pulled the curtains back just enough to peer out.
The night was still and quiet. The motel parking lot was bathed in the flickering amber of a single pole light.
And right beneath it, right where I left her, was my dad’s old cherry red Camaro.
I’d kept it hidden in a storage garage since his passing.
Heath never wanted me to have a car, reminding me that women who had the option to leave, did.
And that was never part of his plan. But that Camaro was my dad’s pride and joy.
And now? Now it was my ticket to freedom.
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them away as I dropped my hold on the curtain and sat cross-legged on the bed.
A map, my new pre-paid phone, and the small pile of junk food I’d grabbed from the drugstore joined me.
Chips, candy, a bottle of soda I hadn’t let touch my lips in months—all of it bought in spite because Heath never let me have it.
Popping a hot Cheeto in my mouth, I unfolded the paper map and smoothed it out over the comforter.
Dozens of winding lines stretched across it like veins, marking cities and towns I’d never been to or even heard of.
But they all had one thing going for them… they led to somewhere that wasn’t his.
Exhausted and feeling desperate, I brushed the Cheeto dust from my hands and closed my eyes.
“All right, Mom... I know I should have listened to you a long time ago, but I'm listening now. Give me a sign. Please. Tell me where to go. Show me somewhere safe. Show me somewhere I can start over and find myself again.”
My finger hovered over the map, swirling around and around until I stopped and stabbed at the flimsy paper—cracking open one eye and fighting back tears as I stared at my destination beneath my perfectly manicured nail: Heaven, Texas.
“Thanks, Mom.” I sucked in a shaky breath. “I love you. I miss you. And, God help me, I hope you’re right.”