Fated to Fall

He slaps me across the face with a look of pure hatred.

“You little bitch” he seethes, before slapping me again.

I yelp in pain, begging him to stop.

“You think you can just leave me” he questions out of frustration?

“MATT STOP” I holler out as he kicks me across in the gut causing me to curl up on the floor. The pain unbearable.

He grabs me by the neck, lifting me up off the floor, “Your NOT leaving, I won’t let YOU, Olivia!”

My eyes start to roll into the back of my head as a fire burns in my throat from the lack of oxygen.

He continues squeezing my throat and for a while I picture myself dead, my memories flashing before my eyes.

I get one last glimpse of him before I fade out, into a peaceful sleep that I want to stay in forever.

...

It’s been a month since my last encounter with Matt, but it feels like a lifetime. After my parents found me unconscious on the floor, bruises marking my neck and arms, they immediately filed a restraining order. I remember nothing from that night, only waking up in the hospital, disoriented and terrified, surrounded by my parents’ worried faces.

The police investigation didn’t bring the justice we hoped for. They claimed there was insufficient evidence, aside from the bruises, to press charges. I had been unconscious, unable to provide testimony, and Matt’s family was powerful, with enough influence to squash any legal action. The harsh reality was that the law, no matter how much I had learned from my father, had its limits.

It became clear to my parents that we had to leave, that staying in Sacramento was no longer an option. It wasn’t just for my safety-it was for all of our peace of mind. As much as I hated to admit it, I had become a prisoner of my own fears. The memories of Matt’s rage, of the way he twisted my love into something dark and controlling, haunted me. But slowly, as we packed up and moved across the country, I felt the fear start to fade. No more pain. No more sleepless nights.

Still, I couldn’t shake the unease that followed me. Our new life in New York City felt like a fragile hope. The idea of starting over, of rebuilding myself from the wreckage of my past, was intimidating. Most of all, I was terrified about starting a new school-a place where I didn’t know anyone, where I had no friends, and no reputation to fall back on.

It felt surreal, leaving behind the familiarity of Sacramento-the city I’d called home for my entire life. There was something about the California sun, the way it drenched everything in gold, that made it impossible not to love. I used to think I could never leave, that Sacramento was the place I belonged. It was beautiful there, year-round, and I thought I would grow up surrounded by the people I loved. But as much as I wanted to stay, I couldn’t ignore the truth: the relationships I had once cherished had unraveled after Matt came into my life.

The first signs of trouble had come when I ignored my friends, choosing him over them again and again. They had warned me, but I was too blinded by love to listen. I thought I could save him, change him, like a foolish girl convinced that love could fix everything. I believed that the person he had once been-the kind, funny boy I had first met-was still there beneath the surface, buried under all the anger. I was wrong. So wrong.

Matt had never been the boy I thought he was. The man he became wasn’t someone I could change, no matter how desperately I tried.

My father had always been my anchor, the one person I could always count on. As the owner of a prestigious law firm that spanned several states, he had built an empire through hard work and integrity. He taught me the rules of law when I was young, and by the time I was eleven, I could recite case law and legal principles by heart. It wasn’t that I was a child prodigy-I just had an insatiable hunger for knowledge, especially when it came to the thing that mattered most to my father. He was a man of principle, and I admired him more than anyone in my life.

But that was before everything changed.

And now, here I was, moving across the country to New York, where I would attend Ridgeview High, the most prestigious school in the area. At least that’s how the brochures made it sound. In reality, it was just an overpriced institution, where the education was average, but the reputation was everything. The students were a mix of the over-privileged and the deeply insecure, all trying to carve out their place in a world that valued status over substance. At least the cafeteria food was supposed to be better, though I wasn’t sure that was a good enough trade-off for the social minefield I was about to walk into.

I had to keep my head up. I had to make the right friends, find my place. I told myself that this move-no matter how scary-was the right decision. For the first time in a long while, I was allowing myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, the future could be different.

My mother, always the optimist, broke the silence in the car as we neared our new home.

“Honey?” she called softly, her voice tinged with concern. I turned to look at her from the backseat.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice flat, my mind still preoccupied.

She gave me a gentle smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Just wanted to check on you.”

My mother had been my biggest advocate in this move. She knew how unsafe I’d felt, how fragile I had become after everything with Matt. She couldn’t bear the thought of me being exposed to him again, or of me being alone without protection. She couldn’t.

“We’ll get through this, sweetheart,” my father added from the driver’s seat, glancing in the rear-view mirror with a reassuring smile. “You’re going to love it here.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, but my words were hollow. I wasn’t sure what I was going to love about it yet. But the city lights of New York flickered past, and I let the rhythm of the motion distract me for a moment.

The car finally came to a stop outside the house. My mother’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Wake up, sweetie, we’re here,” she said, gently tapping my shoulder.

I groggily pushed myself out of the car and stood in front of our new house. The exterior was a soft ash-colored brick, two stories tall with a neatly manicured yard. Rows of yellow tulips lined the gravel path leading up to the front door, bright and welcoming. I couldn’t help but appreciate the care that had been put into it. The house was big-bigger than what we had in Sacramento-but I was too exhausted to feel anything other than the weight of the change.

The movers arrived shortly after we did, unloading boxes and furniture with the efficiency of people getting paid by the hour. My mother, ever the perfectionist, was already directing them to the right spots. My father stepped outside, likely talking to his colleagues back home, though I could tell he missed the office already.

“I’m going upstairs,” I muttered to no one in particular, heading for the staircase before anyone could stop me. I wasn’t about to sleep on the bottom floor.

I picked a room at the end of the hallway-of course, I did. I needed space, something to breathe in, to claim as my own. The room was large, with a bay window overlooking the backyard. The sunlight would stream in through the glass during the day, and I imagined sitting there, looking out at the world while I figured out my place in it.

The walk-in closet was bigger than I had ever hoped for. I could get lost in there. It was perfect. The bathroom was just as luxurious, with a giant mirror framed in gold, marble counters, and a glass shower that looked like something from a magazine. It was a far cry from my old, cramped room, but I felt nothing as I stood in the middle of it all.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself to focus on the positive. Forget the past. Forget everything that had happened.

Downstairs, my mother was in the kitchen, orchestrating the placement of dishes and furniture with the same precision she had used in the moving process. My father was outside, probably checking in with his clients. Tomorrow was Monday, the first day of my senior year, and I could already feel the nerves rising.

“I made sure all your clothes were ironed and hung up,” my mother said, smiling as she handed me a small stack of clothes. I thanked her, knowing how much she did for me, how hard she worked to keep everything together.

“And your car’s ready,” my father added, trying to give me a reassuring smile, though I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. They had gotten me a car, despite my protests. I didn’t want them to spend their hard-earned money on something I should have worked for myself. But their insistence to spoil me despite everything made my heart ache.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, standing up to kiss both of them on the cheek before retreating to my room. I didn’t feel like celebrating. Not yet.

When I entered my new room, everything was in place. The king-sized bed, my piano in the corner, the flat-screen TV sitting on the dresser. The space felt overwhelming, but it was mine. It was too big, I thought, too empty.

Lying back on the bed, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow would bring. I had a thousand possible scenarios running through my head. Would I make friends? Would I fit in? Would the people at Ridgeview High see me for who I was, or would they just see the girl who had escaped a toxic relationship?

The questions circled endlessly as I tried to fall asleep, but all I could think about was the uncertainty of tomorrow. What awaited me at Ridgeview was the biggest mystery of all.