Chapter 1
I sighed, feeling the sting of yet another scar on the nape of my neck. Physically, I could handle it; mentally, it was a different story. Each blow left me more shocked, more frightened. Is this the person I love? I stay because if I leave, he’ll be shattered. And I can’t bear that. But it terrifies me. Will this ever end?
I walk into the school building, as usual, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares. I smirk. I don’t mean to brag, but my looks are a big reason I’m part of the popular gang. It’s how I met him. I rush over to where my group is currently bullying someone. It’s just what we do.
“Hey, Rose! The fun’s about to start. Check out her underwear. It’s adorable! Definitely going online!” Case, my friend, cackles. I peer over her shoulder to see a girl sobbing, her skirt pulled down. I recognize her from my art class. My heart twists as I look at her. I scan for my friends Meg, Jess, Kyle, Jordan, and HIM—my boyfriend, Jack Miller. Everyone looks at me, waiting. It took me a lot of effort to fit in here. I won’t let some girl ruin that for me. I steel myself and approach her like a predator.
“P...please don’t do anything more,” she pleads. My friends laugh, and I join in.
“No, I just want to see what’s underneath. Maybe a matching princess bra?” I grab her blouse and rip open the buttons.
She looks around, seeing the guys taking pictures and laughing. Her eyes lose their light, and I know she’s done for now.
“Alright, enough fun, guys. Let’s head back to class,” Jack says with a grim expression.
We leave the girl sobbing alone in the corridor. As I’m about to join the rest of the group for class, Jack pulls me aside.
I look up at him, panicking. He doesn’t hit me at school, but is that about to change?
He brushes his finger over the new scar. I flinch. His face falls. “I’m so sorry about yesterday, Rose. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I love you. Please don’t be afraid of me.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I bury my face in his chest.
“I love you too, Jack. So much I feel like I might explode.”
He doesn’t reply, just stands there, patting my head. And in that moment, I hope—hope that it might stop.
