Chapter 1: A Much Needed New Life

I woke up feeling a lot of existential dread. My chest tightened as I blinked into the dim light of my new bedroom in downtown St. George, Utah. The unfamiliarity of the apartment was both comforting and isolating. The walls felt too quiet, too empty. But as I scanned the room, taking in the plain walls and simple furniture, I sighed in relief. At least here, in this tiny, sleepy town, I knew he wouldn't be able to find me.

Of all the places my former manager, Scarlett, could've sent me, St. George was about as far from the chaos of LA as possible. It was peaceful here. Serene, even. The quiet streets and the open sky gave me a sense of home that I hadn't felt in a long time. Nobody here would've believed that I was a big and famous gay pop and rnb singer. The light outside was still faintly creeping through the edges of the blinds, the night far from over, but I was awake—again.

I checked the time on my nightstand. 3 AM.

"Ughhh!" I groaned, my voice thick with exhaustion. "Why do I always wake up too early?!"

I let my body slump back into the bed, pulling the covers up over my head like they could shield me from my own racing thoughts. It never failed. I'd fall asleep with some semblance of peace, but the minute I woke up, the storm in my mind would return, relentless.

The memories from two weeks ago flooded in without warning, and I winced. No amount of distance, no new apartment or quiet town, could erase what had happened. What he had done. The terror, the fear, the gnawing anxiety that still gripped my heart.

I was finishing recording my latest and greatest album in the top Los Angeles recording studio. When everything was put together, my manager, Scarlett, and I were getting ready to head out our separate ways from the studio.

"When we meet up tomorrow, we're going to release your new album", Scarlett smiled at me, with a bit of excitement.

"I know! I can't wait!" I eagerly grinned with a clap of my hands.

DING!

I looked down at my phone when it went off. It was my driver, he said that he was going to be a bit late because of traffic. I replied to him okay and that I would be outside right by the door. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I sighed a bit.

Of course, the eight-thirty PM traffic. I muttered to myself in my head.

"My driver said he was going to be fifteen minutes late because of traffic", I hesitated telling Scarlett.

"Oh, will you be okay being by yourself, Elijah?" Scarlett asked as if she was a concerned parent.

"Yes", I firmly, but gently replied.

"Okay, please call me if you need anything!" Scarlett quickly headed over to her car, so she can go home to take care of her kids.

"I will!" I called out before she closed her car door.

I know waiting around LA by myself as a guy of mixed race was bad because of what you hear everyday, but I knew how to take care of myself. My dad was Hispanic and my mom was your typical white female, so that meant I was more of a fair-skin color.

CLINK!

I suddenly heard something fall out of a trash can in the nearby alleyway! Frozen with fear, I slowly turned towards the direction of the alley. At first, I didn't see anyone there, even in the shadows that were casted from the lights dotted across both sides of the street. Then, there was the shuffling. That's when I saw him! I gasped in fright and almost dropped my phone out of my hand.

Oh no! He's here! I whimpered inside my head.

I didn't know what to do. He was a couple of feet away from me, my psychotic, controlling, and abusive ex, Andrew! Looking directly at me, he flashed me a sinister grin. My heart raced as I took a small step back, the air thick with dread. Memories of Andrew flooded my mind—his cold voice echoing in my ears, the way he twisted my fears into weapons against me. I remembered the nights I spent locked in that hellish cycle, wondering if I'd ever escape his grasp.

"Look who it is," he taunted, his voice low and mocking. "The big star, all alone in the city. You've really made it, haven't you?"

I clenched my fists, fighting the instinct to flee. "What do you want, Andrew?" I demanded, forcing my voice to sound steady.

"Oh, just came to see how you're doing," he sneered, stepping closer, a predator closing in on its prey. "Thought maybe you'd want to give me a listen."

My heart hammered in my chest. The shadows of the alley behind him seemed to pulse, as if they were alive, whispering threats I couldn't ignore. "You have no right to be here," I spat, summoning every ounce of defiance I had. "Leave. Now."

His laughter echoed through the stillness, a sound devoid of warmth. "You think you can just walk away from me? You think you're safe?" He leaned in closer, the stench of cigarettes and something darker clinging to him. "This is still my city, Elijah. I know where to find you."

Panic surged through me, a primal instinct urging me to run. But I couldn't show weakness. I took a step back, forcing myself to stand my ground. "I'm not afraid of you, Andrew. You don't control me anymore."

His smile twisted into something more sinister. "You think you can forget me? You can't escape what we had. I'm always a part of you, lurking in the shadows." I saw something glint in his other hand! I froze when I moved my eyes to it, a knife!

A chill crept down my spine as the memories clawed at me—his hand gripping my wrist, the way he made me feel small and worthless. Just then, the distant sound of tires screeching shattered the tension. My driver. Relief washed over me, but I couldn't let my guard down.

"Just remember, Elijah," he called, his voice dripping with venom. "You can run, but I'll always be watching. You'll never truly escape me."

I turned and sprinted towards the car, each step feeling like a race against the darkness that threatened to swallow me whole. As I jumped into the back seat, I caught a glimpse of Andrew's figure disappearing into the shadows, a phantom that would haunt me long after tonight.

My driver's face was taut with concern. "Get in! Now!"

I didn't need to be told twice. As the door slammed shut, the adrenaline surged, but it was tainted with a lingering dread. I could still hear Andrew's laughter echoing in my mind, a chilling reminder of the past I fought so hard to escape.

Tomorrow, I'd release my album. Tomorrow, I'd attempt to reclaim my life. But even as I was on my way home, I knew the battle wasn't over. I was free, yes—but the shadows had a way of creeping back in, and I could feel them lurking, waiting for their moment to strike.

The ride home was a blur, my head swimming with memories I couldn't escape. The streetlights outside the window bled into each other, stretching like ghosts in the dark. I kept my eyes fixed on the road, but it didn't stop the images from flashing in my mind. Andrew's smile, twisted and cruel. His hand holding the knife, the way he had loomed over me like a predator.

I could still feel the weight of it, that cold metal in his hand. I shuddered, the ghost of his touch still crawling under my skin.

"Are you okay?" the driver asked, his voice cutting through my thoughts.

I didn't know how to answer that. Was I okay? Physically, maybe. But my mind was a mess. I couldn't stop replaying every detail of what had just happened, every word he had said to me. You'll never escape me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to steady my breath. I had to calm down. You're safe now.

I repeated the words in my mind like a mantra. Safe. Safe. Safe.

But the truth was, I didn't feel safe. Not really. Not with Andrew still out there, watching, waiting for his moment to strike.

Tears started forming in my tired eyes when I cut off the flashback replaying itself in my mind. I remembered that he could take my life if he found me. After that night, and while the high ride of my new album being a major success, I started to pack my essentials to move out of the mansion I was living in. It took up to a week and a half to get everything together. Even though my stuff filled two moving trucks. I trusted my gut, and rightfully so, because when everything important was in my new two-story apartment, it happened. To be honest, Andrew blowing up my mansion did also help me hide from him and also kept me away from the public. I loved the limelight, but I was getting a bit tired, in all honesty. Everyone thought I died in that mansion, but I was hiding out here. They still think I'm not alive anymore, sadly. There have been times where I want to go back into the public eye, but I knew it would be risky because he's still out there. Authorities haven't been able to catch Andrew at all, which kind of scares me. I always have to look over my shoulder, just in case.

As the memories of that night crept back into my mind, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the images of Andrew's face, twisted with rage. The man I once loved, the man who tore me apart. The worst part wasn't that I feared for my life. It was the feeling that I would never be truly safe, not while he was out there. The air in my apartment felt suffocating, the walls closing in around me as if they could sense the weight of my anxiety.

I rolled over and checked the time again. 3:05 AM. I groaned softly and pushed myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The room was bathed in soft, artificial light from the streetlamps below, casting long shadows that made the place feel even emptier than it already was.

I stood up and padded downstairs to the kitchen, my feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floors. I needed something to take the edge off—something to quiet my racing thoughts. The fridge hummed quietly as I opened it, staring at the contents. It wasn't much—some leftover takeout, a carton of almond milk, a bottle of sparkling water—and then, the bottle I was looking for.

I grabbed the small, half-empty bottle of whiskey and poured myself a glass. The burn of the alcohol was familiar, comforting in its own way, though it did little to ease the gnawing in my chest.

I leaned against the counter, the cool glass pressed to my lips as I tried to push everything out of my mind. My career, Andrew, the constant surveillance I was sure I was under, and the gnawing sense of guilt. I should've gone public with my escape. I should've let people know I was alive. But what if Andrew had used that against me? What if it puts people in danger?

The glass trembled slightly in my hand as the weight of it all settled back on me. Even in a quiet town like St. George, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. It was probably paranoia. I was probably just too raw, too wounded to let myself feel safe. But I'd never been good at trusting anyone, especially myself.

I turned and walked to the small window that overlooked the street. The view was decent for a downtown apartment, though it didn't quite have the grandeur of the mansion I left behind. Still, it felt… small. Too small for me to breathe.

I leaned my forehead against the cold glass and stared out at the darkened streets. Nothing moved. The city was quiet, still.

Maybe I'm just being too paranoid, I need to relax. I muttered to myself in my head, finishing the glass. I set it down in the sink.

I sighed a bit heavily, and trudged back upstairs tiredly. I locked my bedroom door, for safety reasons. Laying down under the sheets, I shut my heavy eyes once again.