Bruised No More

Behind closed doors, Isabella endures a war no one sees. Each cruel word, every blow, strips away a part of her—but never her spirit. Bound to a man she never chose, trapped in a marriage forged in greed, Isabella clings to the belief that peace is not just a dream, but a future she deserves.

I kneel, my fingers trembling as they hide my face. Tears slide down my cheeks, hot and relentless, soaking into the silence of the church.

Beside me, Fernando scrolls mindlessly on his phone, lounging against the pew like we’re in his living room. In God’s house—of all places.

Typical.

I steal a glance at him, the disgust curling in my chest, then lower my head again. I whisper a desperate prayer under my breath. Please, Lord… help me survive this.

Sitting between these two men—my father on one side, Fernando on the other—feels like being buried alive. Neither of them has a single thought for the wreckage they’ve made of me. Two years ago, my father traded me like property to secure his business deal. To him, I was never a daughter—only leverage.

People begin to rise for communion. My father stands. Fernando follows. I stay on my knees, heart pounding. I can’t risk anyone seeing what’s beneath the carefully applied makeup, especially not now, with tears smearing away the little protection I had.

Please don’t make a scene.

I hold my breath as my father steps over my legs and walks away. Relief floods through me—too soon.

Fernando leans down, his voice low, venomous in my ear.

“Don’t think this is going unpunished, sweetheart. Wait till we get home. I’ll teach you how to respect the church.”

My eyes clamp shut. My heart drums violently in my chest. I’ve learned not to question his threats. When Fernando promises pain, he delivers.

But today, there’s something else… a small ember flickering inside me.

Hope.

As the final hymn plays, we stand. The priest lifts his hand in blessing, and I feel Fernando’s fingers clamp down on my wrist like iron. His grip tightens with each word of the benediction, pain radiating up my arm, but I don’t flinch. I bite the inside of my cheek and smile faintly at the people who pass by, nodding and greeting us as if we’re just another happy couple in the pews.

They don’t see the truth. They never do.

Fernando pulls me behind him, weaving through the crowd like I’m nothing more than a piece of luggage. Outside, Max waits beside the car, eyes trained on the sidewalk. Fernando shoves me into the back seat and climbs in beside me.

“Take us home, Max.”

Those three words send a chill up my spine. My body stiffens instinctively.

No lunch at my father’s. No audience. No buffer. Just him and me.

I stare at my hands clenched tightly in my lap, forcing myself not to cry. I don’t ask why—we both know the answer.

His voice cuts through the silence.

“You should’ve shown this kind of respect in church. Now? No one cares.”

I turn away, pressing my forehead against the cool window. Every mile we drive chips away at my composure.

But one thought keeps me steady.

Ava’s offer. Her apartment in Italy. The plan I’ve carefully pieced together.

It all becomes more than an escape—it becomes my lifeline.

Tomorrow. That’s the day I leave.

If I’m still alive by then.

The car hadn’t even stopped before Fernando yanked the door open. His hand clamped around my arm as he dragged me through the front door and into the house.

I stumbled on the tiles, crashing to the floor with a bone-jarring thud. My palms scraped the stone as I tried to break my fall.

Behind me, I heard the sharp hiss of leather sliding through belt loops. Panic rose like bile in my throat.

I turned to Max as he got out of the car. Please, my eyes begged. But he wouldn’t step in. Not after the last time. Not after what Fernando did to him for trying.

And honestly… I don’t blame him. No one stands up to a monster and walks away whole.

Inside, Fernando’s voice roared like thunder.

“YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH! YOU DISRESPECT ME—AND IN THE HOUSE OF GOD!”

The first crack of the belt across my back stole the breath from my lungs. I curled into myself, covering my head. The buckle lashed across my shoulder, my ribs, my thigh.

Every strike carved pain into my flesh, but also something else.

Finality.

This will be the last time, I told myself, tears streaming silently. Tomorrow, I leave. Tomorrow, I’m free.

When the belt stopped, I dared to move. Crawling, clawing my way toward the sitting room, every breath ragged. My clothes clung to me, soaked in blood where the metal had torn through fabric and skin.

I stood on shaking legs, barely able to hold myself up. And still, he came at me.

Pleading for him to stop. “Don’t, Fernando. Please...”

He didn’t stop. He ripped at my clothes, shredding what little dignity I had left. Then he grabbed something off the centre table and....

No.

I know my cries for help will go unheard, but I still call out, hoping this time Fernando will stop.“PLEASE! NO! STOP! PLEASE STOP!”

The pain was blinding, the invasion violent. My screams tore through the house, but they were for no one. My throat burned. My lungs begged for air.

And then… silence.

A strange stillness washed over me.

Dark.

Quiet.

Heaven.

A WEEK LATER

I sit quietly in the terminal, staring out at the planes taxiing across the runway. The bruises have faded, the wounds have scabbed—but inside, I’m still bleeding.

The memories are stitched into my skin, just beneath the surface.

Nightmares visit me every night. His voice. His belt. His breath on my neck.

But I’m here.

I made it.

Ava sits beside me, her hand wrapped around mine. She’s been my anchor in every storm. She saved me when I couldn’t save myself.

“Everything’s ready. A friend will pick you up when you land. He’ll take you straight to your new place.”

I nod, lips trembling. But her next words come out as a reminder of her promise.

“He’ll never find you, Isabella. From today, you’re no longer Maria da Silva. You’re Isabella Romano now.”

I whisper her name like a prayer. "Isabella Romano."

I look up to a very caring but determined Ava as I speak. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I’d still be alive.”

Her reply only reminds me how much help she has really given me, and it makes me smile.

“Well, you are alive. And from tomorrow, you start over.”

I pull her into a tight hug, unable to let go. She’s been more than a friend; she’s been my lifeline, over and over again.

“No tears now. You’re safe. And this isn’t goodbye. I'll visit. You just make sure you learn the language and how to cook.”

I laugh softly through my tears. That’s Ava. Always finding light, even in the darkest corners.

The intercom announces my flight. My future.

My escape.

Flashback — The Night Everything Changed

The memory claws its way back, uninvited, as Isabella sits silently looking out of the window of the aeroplane that now soars high above. Her fingers tremble as they clutch the edge of the book Ava gave her to read. The present fades into the shadows of the past, back to that night. The night she almost didn’t survive.

She had barely stumbled away from Fernando’s final blow—blood blurring her vision, her breath hitching in shallow gasps. Her body broken, her will nearly crushed, Isabella collapsed just inside the threshold of their home. The tiles beneath her soaked red from torn skin and gaping wounds, her screams lost to empty walls.

Max found her.

He had returned to drop off Fernando’s forgotten wallet. What he saw made him freeze. Isabella was lying motionless, her back marred with welts and open gashes, her face unrecognisable. He didn’t speak. He just lifted her gently, carried her to the car, and drove.

At the hospital, the staff moved quickly. Broken ribs. Internal bleeding. Bruises in places no human should be hurt. The doctors said she was lucky. A few hours later, and she might not have made it.

Isabella spent a week in that hospital room, silent, floating in and out of sleep. Each time she woke, she expected Fernando. But it wasn’t his face she saw.

It was Ava’s.

Every morning. Every night.

Ava sat beside her, holding her hand, brushing her hair back from her swollen face, whispering promises she could barely comprehend.

“Isabella, this can’t be your life. Please... let me help you. I have a friend in Italy, she owes me. We can get you a new name, a new passport, a clean break.”

Isabella had shaken her head at first, fear clouding her judgment.

“He’ll find me. He always finds me.”

“Not this time. I’ll handle it. I already started the paperwork. We’ll make this official. Legal. Final.”

The third night, after a nurse helped her to the bathroom and she caught her reflection—tattered, bruised, unrecognisable—Isabella made her decision.

She nodded. Just once.

And Ava sprang into action.

By the end of the week, the documents were ready. Her new name: Isabella Romano. Her new home: a quiet coastal town in Italy. A friend of Ava’s would meet her at the airport. Her things had been sent in secret. The plan was simple, clean, and perfect.

Now, as the announcement echoes overhead, Isabella breathes deep.

This is not just a flight.

It’s an escape from the night that almost killed her.

It’s a rebirth.

A second chance.

She clutches the new passport in her hand.

Bruised....

“Never again.”