Prologue
JULIETTE
Pinching my eyes closed, I push my back against the door and hope that the wood holds, or whatever doors are made out of. Victor slams his fist against the top of the door again, then there is a slam against my back, and I know he’s kicked it, too.
I try to stay quiet, but he knows where I am, so it’s pointless. There’s nowhere else I could be but here, hiding from him. He knows I’m here. It’s not like I’m trying to keep anything from him. But at this point, I’m just trying to survive.
Bringing my knees against my chest, I wrap my arms around my shins and hold on, trying to make myself as small as humanly possible. It doesn’t work. I don’t turn into a speck of dust or vanish into another realm.
When I open my eyes, I am right where I was, behind a door, in a dark closet, wondering not for the first time how my life came to be this… any of it. Staying where I am, I force myself to take deep cleansing breaths as I whisper to myself.
It’s the same mantra I’ve said since this started with Victor. When the pain and heartache began. “I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment. I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.”
Maybe one day I’ll believe the words that I keep chanting to myself, or maybe one day it won’t matter because I’ll be dead. It might be easier that way if I weren’t around anymore. I know that it isn’t as simple as leaving, and I know that because I’ve tried.
I left several months ago, for the second time, he found me and brought me back. Then he beat me so badly, causing me pain in so many different ways, that I couldn’t physically leave again for weeks. I’m surprised I survived at all, to be honest.
“You’re a fucking cunt, Juliette,” he hisses. “You can’t hide in there forever.”
He kicks the door one last time, then I hear his boots walk away from the door. I don’t hope that he’s walked away, because I know he doesn’t go far.
He never does.
In fact, a few seconds later, I hear the sound of a chair being dragged across the house. He slams it down on the floor, no doubt making a big show of it, just to scare me.
Unfortunately, it works.
Goose bumps break out over every inch of my body.
“I’m waiting right here for you, baby,” he calls out.
It’s a taunting voice that quickly turns into a purr, and it sends a chill of fear down my spine. I worry the skin on the inside of my cheek with my teeth, moving it side to side while I try to keep from panicking.
My mouth fills with the taste of blood. The longer I stay in here, the worse it’s going to get. I already know that. I’m not sure what I thought I was going to accomplish by running from him. But tonight, I just knew the moment he threw the glass filled with water at me that it was going to be bad.
And as I replay the events over in my head, I know that I was right.
Victor stood from the table, taking one menacing step toward me, then another, before he began to charge. So I ran and hid in the closet, which wasn’t my best or smartest decision. I should have gone outside and kept running as far away as possible.
Which would have been better than sitting here while he lies in wait for me to come out. Because he knows I can’t stay in here forever, and there is no other way out aside from the door I’m currently leaning against.
I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.
I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.
Standing slowly, I turn around and reach for the handle of the door. Pinching my eyes closed, I let out a heavy sigh as I twist the knob and gently pull the door open. He’s sitting directly across from me.
Victor seems calm, but I know the truth. He has one leg crossed over the other, his ankle resting on his knee, with his fingers laced together resting behind his head. He’s holding his body loose, but he’s ready to strike at any given moment.
I don’t make a move toward him, and he doesn’t say anything immediately.
He’s making me sweat.
It’s working.
My heart races against my ribcage, and then he snorts, as if I’m not completely in a panic, or maybe he thinks it’s funny. I hate it no matter the reason.
“Take your clothes off,” he demands.
I don’t protest or ask why. I don’t need to because I already know what’s coming. Stripping out of my clothes, I dip my chin down and look at my bare feet when I’m completely naked. I don’t want to look into his eyes.
Shit would only get worse for me if I did. I try to breathe calmly, knowing that if I panic, he’s going to take advantage of that, and I don’t want to give Victor any reason to take advantage of anything.
“On your knees,” he demands.
With zero hesitation, I drop to my knees. I feel the impact of my joints against the hardwood floor, and at the same time, I hear the thud. I don’t make a single noise, though. Keeping my chin down, my eyes focused on a little speck of dust on the floor.
“Crawl to me.”
I do what he demands. I lower to my hands, and I crawl toward him. My breasts sway with each move. When I reach his feet, I stop. He demands that I sit up and look at him. I rise to my knees, sitting back, and force my gaze to lift to meet his.
He’s pissed.
His jaw is clenched, his eyes are narrowed on me.
This is going to hurt. He doesn’t even have to tell me that.
I can feel it in my bones. When he reaches out, he digs his fingers into my cheeks.
And it begins. It hurts so bad that my eyes fill with unshed tears.
I don’t even know what happened to make him angry in the first place this time.
I don’t know what set him off and why he’s angry with me.
But that doesn’t matter. It never does. I’m the one who will pay for it.
“You’re so fucking pathetic,” he hisses. “You’re going to take everything I give you, and when it’s done, you’ll thank me for it, too.”
And I do. Because it’s either that or my life. When I think that I can’t take another second of the pain, when my entire body screams, I decide that I’m going to get the hell out of here. I’m going to run, I’m going to get free of Victor. Even if it means I have to die trying.