Disclaimer…While I don't own anything Twilight related, this story's plot is mine. This story contains depicts graphic drug use, vulgar language, sexual content, and spousal abuse.

Prologue: Shock and Awe

2006

Bella

I grabbed my keys and my infant daughter, Rebecca, as my favorite mug shattered against the sliding glass door. My young son Jake stood transfixed at the rage his father was displaying. Putting the key ring on my left index finger, the side my six-month-old baby was currently holding, I grabbed Jake, with my right hand, not stopping to even grab my purse.

"Bella, you dumb bitch," my husband Jasper screamed, "You get back here now!"

I ignored him, my heart pounding, I needed to get out, and I needed to get out now. The truth was, I needed to leave six months ago when Jasper's addiction started to spiral. When I realized that he had swallowed up my entire pain medicine supply, the hospital sent me home after my emergency c-section. If I were being honest with myself, I probably would have left him a year ago when I realized he was falling asleep at the dinner table. I should have known better when he was too high to drive me to the hospital when I went into labor with Rebecca. As a social worker, I should have known better. I knew the signs clinically; how many patients had I consulted in the emergency room, with people begging for scripts but needed detox?

Last night, I snapped after I found a stash of Rebecca's diaper pail; Jasper passed out in her bedroom. I grabbed the baby and the pills and stormed out of her room. The first thing I did was flush his shit down the toilet; the second, I put Jake in my bed and Rebecca in the pack-and-play. The next thing I did was grab my laptop and look for detox places.

I didn't even get a chance to confront him when Jasper barged in and started screaming. He terrified the baby and then threw the mug. I took one look at Jake, who stood there petrified, cowering against the wall, his pants suspiciously wet all of a sudden, and I knew. I just knew we had to get out. Instinct took over, horrible memories from my father, an addict himself who went in and out of my life, and I couldn't let Jake and Rebecca live like my sister and I had, like my mom.

"Let's go," I hissed, pushing Jasper in front of me, still as stiff as a statue, "we're going to Auntie Angela's house."

Poor Jake could barely move as I shoved him into the garage, hoping I could be fast enough to escape. Jake was enraged. I had never seen anything like this before. There was no sign of the kind man I had married. The man who used to bring sandwiches to me when I was in grad school or during my pregnancy with Jasper sang to my belly every night. This person wearing Jasper's face was a stranger.

"Bella, where the fuck do you think you're taking my kids, you dumb bitch? You think you can leave with my kids, bitch! Huh! I'll fuck you up and spit you out! You'll never see them again," Jasper shrieked after realizing what I was doing and sprinting after me.

Pure terror filled me as I fumbled with the door and stumbled outside. Jasper, even high, was fast. I mentally kicked myself for throwing out his stash. I should have driven the kids to either my mom's or sister's and then confronted him. He must have cut himself on the ceramic shards from the destroyed mug because he was leaving bloody footprints on the floor tiles. In my horror, I realized he was so angry he couldn't feel any pain; he must have been running on pure adrenaline.

I unlocked the car door, shoved Jake inside, and put Rebecca in the car seat, just putting on the shoulder restraint. Jake was getting very close, and I needed to get moving. The garage door was still shut.

"Jake," I yelled at my shell-shocked four-year-old, "push the door button!"

Like most toddlers, Jake was fascinated with buttons. When the car was parked, I let him push the button on the visor to close the door.

I ran to the other side when Jasper caught up to me. He grabbed my hair and yanked it hard; the pain was horrible, as I could feel the hair being ripped from my scalp.

"Let me go!" I shrieked, and he backhanded me in response. More pain exploded before my eyes as my eyeglasses cut my eyebrow.

"You fucking bitch, how dare you take my pills! Where the fuck are they!" he yelled, shaking me.

Jake ran out of the car. "Let my mommy alone!" he yelled in his pitful four-year-old voice and kicked Jasper in the shin.

"Shut the fuck up, little shit," Jasper shouted, kicking at Jasper, who fell into some cardboard boxes.

Enraged at my son being hurt, I took advantage of that brief second where Jasper was distracted and kneed him in the balls. Suddenly, Jasper went down, cupping his crotch.

I grabbed Jake, who was sitting dazed amongst the boxes, and got both of us in the car. This time, I grabbed the keys that I placed on Rebecca's lap and pressed the locked key. I didn't want to take the chance that Jake would work through the pain to get into the car.

Painfully, I was pretty sure my ribs were bruised; I climbed over the front seat and started the car, not bothering with my seat belt. Jake was on the floor next to his crying sister, sniffling. Realizing I was leaving, Jasper managed to get up and started pounding the car, yelling more obscenities. I ignored him, as I backed the car out of the garage, Jake had pressed the button visor before Jasper caught up to us. Some neighbors were outside looking horrified; I was too scared to be embarrassed that our secret was out. Jasper kept running and hitting the car, demanding we let him in. I ignored him. One of the neighbors tried to get his attention, probably to calm down Jasper, but Jasper shoved him to the ground, realizing I was not stopping.

His expression changed, morphing from anger to disbelief and hurt as we both realized that this was probably the end of our marriage. The end of a relationship that had started with good intentions and innocence, that produced two wonderful children, gone, shattered like that damned mug in our kitchen. He tried to run in front of the car. I shifted gears, hit the gas, and backed up two blocks. When I realized we were in the clear, I turned around and got moving.

I didn't look back.

Author's Note:

Oxycondone is a deviate of the opium plant and is used as a pain killer. Originally synthesized 1917, Oxycodone became the pain killer of choice during the 1990s, when pharm companies started pushing it their primary product, beginning the opioid epidemic. In 2020, it was reported that 841,000 Americans died from overdoses, 500,0000 of those deaths are believed to related to opioids. In a twelve period, ending in January of 2023, 109,600 deaths were attributed to opioids, which calculates to roughly 300 people a day.

I dedicate this story to my cousin who overdosed over the summer. M, I miss you every day and your death is a hole that will never heal.