Chapter 1-
The first time he laid a hand on me was 6 days after we had graduated high school. I was on track for med school at Stanford, and he was leaving to start Political Science at FSU. We had gotten into an argument about keeping the relationship over the distance. I can still hear the exact words he said before he struck me. You're Mine.
Currently, I am a medical resident at Apalachee Center hospital in Tallahassee, Florida. I just finished working a 10-hour shift and was relieved to find I could go home. After changing in the locker rooms the hospital has for us, I check my phone for any messages. One glance at the time and I know I'm fucked. I am late for my dinner date with him. The last time this happened my night ended badly. I start texting him in a frenzy:
I am so sorry, my shift ended late. Be home soon. - Clarke
I am so sorry. I love you. - Clarke
The only response I received is the signal that he read my messages. I sigh as I walk out to my car knowing I will be sore tomorrow from the punishment he lays on me. I hop into my car and start to drive to his home. The apartment is his home, not mine. I refuse to even consider calling it that. In a real home, you should not get beat to a pulp every other night because some drunk man decides so. I start to pray that I make it through every stop light and get home fast to reduce the pain he will inflict on me.
As I grab my keys to start unlocking the door it slams open, and on the other side, he stands. I quickly retrieve the keys I dropped on the floor out of surprise. The smell of his cologne that was once comforting but now turns my nose sour, the smell of his shampoo that once used to make me feel butterflies fills me with dread, and the smell of alcohol that is swarming my senses. I squeeze my eyes shut hoping to get out of this nightmare and back to the old times. Back to the time when I actually meant it when I said to him "I love you". Back to when I was free. But as I slowly peel my eyes open my aspiration is crushed. He still stands there.