Chapter 1 - The Escape
Bethany's POV
It’s been sixty hours.
Sixty hours on two different trains.
Sixty hours of trying not to fall apart.
Sixty hours since I packed two bags, grabbed my little boy, and ran.
Sixty hours since we escaped the monster.
I stared out of the train window, Noah asleep against my chest while our bags sat beside me, and wondered how the hell my life had ended up like this.
We were high school sweethearts once. He’d been the friendly, straight-A student every girl wanted, but he never seemed interested in any of them. I was the new girl—the one who got kicked out of her old school for breaking another girl’s nose.
Yeah, I was a bitch. The “bad girl” of the school.
But, somehow, the sweet boy only noticed me.
Well... he used to be sweet.
For the first three years, everything felt perfect. Maybe too perfect. Being with him softened me a little. I smiled more. I wasn’t so angry all the time. We went on dates, spent every second together at school, hung out with his friends, went to parties—did all the normal teenage things people write songs about.
We even got accepted into the same college. He studied business while I majored in art. Art had always been my thing. Growing up, I was never far from a sketchbook or a pencil, and eventually I even designed my own tattoos.
He hated my tattoos.
Said they weren’t “ladylike.” Said women shouldn’t mark their skin because it made them stand out too much and look less feminine.
I should’ve seen the warning signs then.
During our second year of college, I found out I was pregnant with Noah. I still don’t know how it happened when I took the pill religiously every morning, but despite the shock, I was happy. Really happy.
He wasn’t.
He wasn’t angry or excited. Just... indifferent.
At first, nothing changed. I still went to classes and spent my free time with him, but as the pregnancy progressed, everything became harder. I was exhausted all the time, and morning sickness hit me so badly during my second trimester that I could barely function some days.
That was when he started pushing me to quit college. He said I should stay home and raise our baby, just like his mom had done. Apparently, that’s what “real ladies” did.
He didn’t like the idea of his girlfriend having a career and being a mother. And because I was young, stupid, and hopelessly in love with him... I agreed.
It wasn’t until after Noah was born that I truly realized how much he’d changed.
First, it was my clothes. He said my ripped skinny jeans and tank tops showed too much skin. So I swapped them for plain jeans and oversized sweaters, covering myself up because it made him happy.
Then it was my friends. He always had a reason why they were bad influences or why I shouldn’t spend time with them. After months of excuses and cancelled plans, they stopped calling altogether.
Eventually, I wasn’t allowed out of the apartment without permission.
If Noah needed diapers or we needed groceries, I had to ask first.
One afternoon, I texted him to say we needed diapers and asked if I could go to the store. He never replied. After waiting over an hour, I decided to go anyway.
The store was only a fifteen-minute walk away. I bought what we needed and came straight home. The second I walked through the apartment door, he exploded. He screamed that he had never given me permission to leave.
And then he slapped me.
That was the first time.
Over the next year came more slaps. Then punches. Then kicks.
One night, he beat me so badly I couldn’t move from the floor for nearly four hours. But when Noah started crying in his crib, screaming for me, I forced myself up. I dragged myself across the apartment using the couch and the walls just to reach my son.
I never went to the police. I was too scared of what he’d do if I tried. And I had nobody left to turn to.
My dad died in a car crash when I was little, and my mom and I stopped speaking after a huge argument when I left for college. She hated my relationship choices. She doesn’t even know she has a grandson.
No siblings.No friends.Nobody.
I was completely alone.
Until four days ago.
That was the day I decided I’d had enough. I couldn’t let Noah grow up in that apartment. I couldn’t risk him becoming the next target.
So I made a plan.
I bought train tickets in secret and used the small amount of money I’d managed to save. The next morning, when he left for work at his uncle’s accounting firm, I packed one bag for me and one for Noah. I stuffed his tiny backpack with toys, called a cab, and went straight to the train station.
And now, here we are. Somewhere between our old life and whatever comes next.
I found a small town a couple of hours outside New York. Quiet. Safe-looking. Nothing like California. Hardly anybody there. Perfect for disappearing.
Movement stirred in my arms, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked down to find Noah blinking up at me with sleepy blue eyes.
“Hey, gorgeous boy,” I whispered with a smile, hoping he couldn’t see the fear hiding underneath it. “Did you sleep well?”
He nodded, rubbing at his eyes with a tiny fist. “Are we nearly there yet, Mommy?”
“Almost, baby. We just need to catch a bus to our new home.”
He nodded again before turning back to the window, watching the trees blur past outside.
Not much longer now.
Then we’ll finally be safe.
I hope.
