**Chapter 3: Rachel** Sleep eludes me, shrouded in an insufferable restlessness. Even encased in the plush embrace of Liam's bed, my mind races in frantic circles. The exhaustion weighs heavy on me, yet it seems sleep has turned its back. Whenever I dare close my eyes, Theo’s furious visage burns into my memory, dragging along the remnants of our brutal confrontation. Each recollection is a blade, cutting my insides and leaving me feeling raw and unwell. Taking a deep breath, I inhale the lingering scent of the hockey player who once held me close, tenderly soothing my frazzled nerves. For a fleeting moment, I remember the kindness he showed, the way he cradled me, stroking my hair while I fell apart. But then I remember: that wasn't Theo. It was Liam. Theo, on the other hand, was never gentle or kind. My stomach twists, and I shut my eyes tightly, rolling over in a futile attempt to find solace. But sleep remains a distant dream, and the hours melt into a restless haze of fitful dozing and constant turning. When dawn finally breaks, I rise to greet it, only to be met with a resounding thrum of pain pulsing in my temples. With a sense of urgency, I clutch one of Asher’s plush towels to my chest and shuffle towards the bathroom. I avoid my reflection, stripping off my clothes and stepping into the sanctuary of hot water. I lather Mikayla’s fragrant shampoo and scrub my skin, desperate to wash away the remnants of that terrible night. The hot spray feels cathartic, but when I finally emerge and wipe the fog from the bathroom mirror, I am confronted anew with the terrible truth of what transpired. My breakup with Theo was no ordinary quarrel. It was ferocious, and I carry the wounds to prove it—darker than shadows, they splatter my skin like careless brushstrokes of a chaotic artist. My fingers glide along my ribcage, and flinching, I gaze at the mottled bruises that tell the story of that night—each mark an echo of the violence that erupted. Just before the door swung open that fateful day, I could sense the atmosphere shifted. I had parked my car in the driveway, exhausted after another grueling double shift at the grocery store, only to be met with the cacophony of laughter and raucous voices drifting from within. Theo’s friends were there—uninvited, boisterous, and blissfully unaware of my weariness. They might as well have been a pack of wolves feasting on my last shred of peace. Sighing heavily, I resolved to hibernate in my room, perhaps lose myself in a movie on my laptop. But of course, that plan was futile. Their chaos would seep through the walls like a bad odor, suffocating me. I shouldered my grocery bag, steeling myself for another round of this never-ending fight for harmony. It was all for our joint dream of a trip to Hawaii—an escape from the mundane, a reward for our hard work. Yet every evening I returned home, it felt less like shared dreams and more like a solitary endeavor. With a deep breath, I flung the door open to find Theo and his friends gathered around the kitchen table, beer cans and cigar smoke swirling in the air like a third guest. Theo greeted me casually, cigar in mouth, as if that horrid stench did not make me want to retch. Despite my nausea, I plastered on a smile and leaned down for a quick peck, trying to ignore the way he grabbed me possessively, eliciting laughter from his friends. I shrugged his hand away, instinctively seeking the leftovers I had stored for dinner. My stomach growled in protest as I discovered it had vanished, the remnants abandoned by the sink. Theo wasn’t to blame—he detested my Pad Thai—so it had to be one of his marauding friends treating my dinner like their midnight snack. I felt the anger boil beneath my skin. “Can you get us a drink, cutie?” Matt’s voice slithered through the air, laced with drunken entitlement. My skin crawled at the pet name he’d begun to call me—a name that used to feel affectionate, now laced with insincerity. “Actually, I’m just heading for a shower,” I muttered, desperation creeping into my voice. “I just worked a double shift.” My eyes flicked toward Theo, but he was engaged in whatever asinine conversation his friends were having, blissfully ignorant of the dynamic spiraling into chaos. Just as I thought I could slip away unnoticed, Matt surged from his chair, blocking my path as if I were a cornered animal. “It’s just one drink. You’re closer to the fridge than I am.” His breath reeked, and I stepped back in revulsion, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. "Not my responsibility, Matt. Get your own drink." My defiance hung in the air, but my heart pounded; I wished Theo would notice the tension, the way it turned the air thick and heavy. Matt leaned in, invading my space. His breath was foul as he leered. “I want you to get it for me, woman.” He shoved me back, an unexpected force catching me off balance. I stumbled, colliding with Max, panic surging through me as I whipped my head towards Theo. His expression was unreadable, but I caught a fleeting glance of embarrassment before he looked back at his cards. “Just get him a drink. Don’t make this a big deal,” he muttered, a disinterest lacing his tone. Tension sizzled within me, fury igniting every nerve. “I’ve just worked my ass off! I come home to find my dinner gone, and I shouldn’t have to get anyone a drink!” In that charged moment, I didn’t see it coming—a hand gripped my wrist, yanking me towards the fridge. “Let go!” My voice trembled as I fought against Matt’s suffocating grip. He pushed me against the cool metal of the fridge, my shoulder colliding painfully—a jolt of agony shooting through me as I cried out. “Get me a drink!” he bellowed, eyes wild with drunken authority. The room turned surreal as I turned to Theo once more, begging silently for his support. But he remained entrenched in his game, avoiding my gaze like a coward. In that moment, the simplest of actions felt monumental. I could have surrendered my pride, fetched the drink, but something deep within me refused to capitulate. Defiance simmered as I took a breath, plotting my escape to the bathroom. But I miscalculated. Matt’s hand latched onto my arm, and horror lurched in my gut as his fist slammed into my stomach. The impact stole my breath, crumpling me to the ground as shock coursed through my veins. Pain raged, and panic clawed at my throat, gasping desperately but drawing no sound. “Help me!” the words screamed in my mind, yet emerged only as a whimper. Fighting my way back to my feet, I made a dash for the door, the momentum of my determination strong, only to find my ankle caught in an iron grip, pulling me back down into darkness. He hurled cruel words my way, slurring insults while using my body as his playground. I curled inward, shielding myself from the agony, wishing for a chance to vanish, to escape this waking nightmare. I don’t know how long the torment continued, but then an eerie silence fell. Matt had become still, perhaps out of breath from his exertions. I remained sprawled on the floor, heart hammering, my body a wreck as I waited for the inevitable next move. Suddenly, I heard the fridge creak open, and the unmistakable sound of a bottle being snatched out. Seizing my opportunity, I leaped to my feet and bolted for the front door, but two arms engulfed me before I could grasp the handle. “No you don’t.” “Let me go!” I pleaded, struggling helplessly against Theo’s grip as he swung me back down the hallway. “Stop fighting,” he barked, the authority in his voice thundering in my ear. “I’m protecting you.” “Protecting me?” I screeched, disbelief flooding through me as he shoved me into the bedroom, locking the door behind us. “You didn’t protect me!” My voice cracked, pain radiating from my bruised side as I cradled it with trembling fingers. “You just sat there and let it happen!” “Well, I brought you here, didn’t I? You’re safe now.” He breathed heavily, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “We’ll lock the door, and you’ll be fine.” Incredulity washed over me as anger surged. “I’m not staying in this house.” “Oh, yes, you are.” His tone hardened, ice wrapping around his words. “You’re not leaving me.” I watched him, disbelief morphing into rage. He turned his back to me, muttering curses under his breath. “Rach, why couldn’t you just grab him a damned beer? Was that too much to ask?” The slights burned within me, igniting my fury even further. “I am not your prisoner!” I snapped, doubling down on my resolve as I drugged my feet toward the door, desperate to break free. But the moment I reached for the handle, he intercepted me, throwing me back once more. I stumbled, crashing into his furniture, and the reverberation shook the frame of our shared life. Photos toppled over—snapshots of moments filled with laughter and love, where the Theo I knew and adored participated willingly. Now, those images felt like a distant fairy tale—strangers captured in fleeting happiness. I was lost in the shadow of that love, a love that had morphed into something far more sinister. “How can you become this person?” I thought as I stared at the remnants of our love, my heart splintering under the pressure. In a fit of despair, I tucked my chin into my chest, suppressed sobs echoing in the silence. I never thought I would be here, locked away in a nightmare that spiraled further out of control than I could have ever imagined. I thought I knew trauma when my father died, but this was a different dimension of torment. Fear tangled around me like a vine, binding every limb and stealing my breath. The realization settled in—there was nowhere to go. So, I stayed where I fell, crumpled on the floor, pressing my battered body into a ball and weeping into the carpet. But somehow, amidst the shadows, sleep found me, ushering me away into a dreamless slumber, until the familiar sound of movement stirred me from my unconscious retreat. My eyes peeled open, squinting against the harsh hallway light flooding in, spotting Theo’s disheveled figure lurking by the bed. “Rach, I won! Three thousand bucks!” His triumphant shout was as blaring as sirens crashing into a quiet night. He flopped onto the bed in a drunken haze, grinning as if he had just conquered the world and beckoning me to join the celebration. The very notion sent chills swirling through my stomach. A thousand emotions warred within me, resentment battling affection for the man I thought I knew—an image of the love we once shared. But how could I ever join him again, knowing that he had let his friend unleash such cruelty upon me? The thought of him touching me made nausea rise within, choking me as bile burned my throat. “Cutie? You comin’?” His voice trailed off, sleep edging in as he succumbed to unconsciousness, the sound of his snores echoing throughout the room. With painstaking effort, I extracted myself from the shadows, inching toward the edge of the bed. I scrutinized his slumbering form, making sure he was entirely lost to the world before diving for the first suitcase I could find, prying it free from beneath the bed. The zipper snagged, but I willed myself to push through, filling it with whatever I could gather, grit teeth against the pain that stabbed through me like shards of glass. Anything but remain here. Quietly, I crept down the hallway, absorbing the solemn silence of an abandoned living space. The boys were gone; I gathered my purse from the counter, shooting a final glare at the fridge that had been a constant in my turbulent life. Then, my eyes fell on the pile of cash that had brought him such joy. It gleamed in the soft glow, the riches rewarded for a night spent gambling while I hid in fear. Something dark spilled within me, curling beneath the surface—disgust blossoming like weeds in an untended garden. Love could curdle into hate faster than I could have ever believed. The blackness surged, fueling an impulse I never thought lived within me. And so, with heavy steps, I pushed open the back door and stepped into the world beyond, leaving behind the twisted remnants of a life I once wanted, a life that no longer identified who I was meant to be.