Chain of Hearts: Book 1 of The Black Chains

Stella’s POV

“STELLA! crap, are you okay?”

My name echoed. It felt distorted and distant, as if it were slipping out of reach. A sharp, pounding throbbed through my head. The world tilted. It was spinning so fast it made my stomach turn. Shapes hovered above me—faces, I think—but they were nothing more than blurs and moving shadows.

I tried to push myself up, but my body did not follow. My knees buckled. Dizziness crashed over me like a tidal wave, slamming me back down.

“Hey—hey, easy!” Bree’s voice cut through the fog. Her arm slipped around my waist, steady and unyielding. She anchored me before I could fall again, her grip firm but careful.

“What… what happened?” My voice came out weak, barely a breath.

“You just ate it down a flight of stairs, you big klutz,” Bree said, though her voice trembled. “Your head is bleeding, Stella. Like… a lot.”

I blinked, trying to clear the pain, trying to bring everything into focus. Bree was standing in front of me, fear ran across her face. She was my best friend. My only constant. We’d been inseparable since middle school, ever since she moved from Kentucky to Texas and sat next to me in 4th period. We had an instant bond. We both grew up in houses that were never homes. Her father had been a violent drunk, her mother, a ghost. And me? Well, it wasn’t much of a different story.

We anchored to each other as if our lives depended on it. Through childhood sleepovers and late-night movies. We escaped our realities and tried to create better ones for the moment. Moving in together after high school wasn’t just a choice; it was survival. Now, we were putting ourselves through college, scraping by to build a life out of the wreckage of our pasts.

My own childhood was ruined at six, when my real dad died in a car crash. After that, my mom turned our life into a constant revolving door of abusive, alcoholic men she met at bars. A different one almost every night. I became their easy target, and she never once protected me. It had been eight years since she finally ran off with another man, discarding me like a piece of forgotten luggage.

“You really should go to the campus nurse,” Bree said, pulling me back to the present as she carefully helped me to my feet.

“I’ll be fine,” I muttered, wincing as a sharp ache shot through my skull. “Head wounds always bleed more than they actually hurt. Plus, the last thing I need is someone else worrying about me.”

Before she could argue, a deep voice cut through the hallway.

“That was a pretty serious fall.”

I turned slightly, and my breath caught. Professor Walker. Tall, broad-shouldered, and entirely too attractive for his own good. The kind of man people wrote stories about—and the kind I definitely shouldn’t be looking at.

“Do you need help getting to the clinic?” he asked, stepping closer.

My cheeks burned instantly. “Um… no. I’m okay. Thank you.”

His hand brushed lightly against my back—a simple, supportive gesture to steady me—but it sent a sharp, unexpected jolt of electricity straight down my spine. I hated the reaction. I hated how my mind instantly wandered.

“Thank you for checking,” I said quickly, taking a deliberate step away before I could embarrass myself. “I’m just going to head home.”

I needed to leave before I made a mistake. People always seemed to care at first, saying and doing all the right things. I always gave too much, felt too deeply, and attached too quickly—only to end up used, broken, and discarded. I had sworn I wouldn’t become my mother, repeating her cycle of needing men who would destroy her. Yet, somehow, the familiar pattern kept circling me.

It was my senior year. Just one more mountain to face and I’d have my degree in Child Therapy. I wanted to save kids who came from the same darkness as Bree, and I did. Maybe if I could fix them, I’d feel a little less broken myself.

“I’ll take you home,” Bree said firmly as we reached a courtyard bench.

I shook my head, leaning it back against the brick wall. “No, you have class. I’m not messing up your attendance.”

“I don’t care about class,” she shot back, her eyes fiercely protective. “I care about you.”

I forced a weak laugh, instantly regretting it as my head throbbed.

“Pretty sure the whole campus already saw me slide down the steps anyway.”

She didn’t smile.

“I’ll call Aaron,” I said quietly, trying to placate her. “He can come pick me up.”

The moment my boyfriend’s name left my mouth, a subtle, cold shift hardened Bree’s expression. She didn’t like him—we both knew why—but she didn’t voice the argument today.

“Okay,” she said softly, checking her watch. “My last class ends at 5:30. You still want to go out tonight?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said automatically, looking at the blood on my fingers. “I’ve taken worse hits.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. A heavy silence fell over us. We both knew exactly what those words meant, and exactly who had delivered those worse hits in the past.

Bree didn’t push it. She just leaned in, pulling me into a tight, fierce hug. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” I whispered against her shoulder, clinging to the only anchor I had left.

As she walked away, I pulled out my phone and texted Aaron.

A few seconds later, it buzzed.

Aaron: Seriously, Stella? I’m busy. But I’ll drop everything like I always do.

My jaw tightened. I could’ve told him how much pain I was in. Could’ve told him I needed him.

Instead, I typed, “Okay. Thank you. Love you.”

Because it was easier. Because it always was. Aaron wasn’t… easy. Not anymore. But he was familiar. And sometimes, familiarity to me felt safer than the unknown—even when it caused pain.

The bathroom light was bright. It made everything look worse. I stood there gripping the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection like I didn’t recognize the girl looking back at me. Blood had dried in uneven streaks down the side of my face, dark and sticky against my skin. I saw that it had dripped onto my shirt. Crap, I liked this shirt too. I let out a deep sigh. The gash near my hairline looked angrier up close—raw, swollen, and still slowly bleeding. I reached up with trembling fingers, brushing lightly over it. Pain exploded instantly. I sucked in a sharp breath, gripping the end of the sink harder as the room tilted again. I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself.

“Pull it together,” I whispered to myself.

A few girls came and went behind me, their voices hushed, eyes lingering too long.

“Are you okay?” One of them asked as they walked towards me.

“Crap, do you need help?” Another one asked.

“Should someone call—”

“I’m fine, thank you,” I repeated over and over, even as my reflection did not speak the same words. I wiped away what blood I could, though it didn’t do much. It just smeared. After a moment, I couldn’t stand looking at myself anymore. I turned and walked out, pushing through the heavy front doors and into the open air. The cool breeze hit my skin, grounding me slightly. I closed my eyes for a second, letting it wash over me, trying to quiet the chaos in my head.

Twenty minutes later, I heard it before I saw it. Tires screeching. My stomach dropped. Aaron’s cherry red sports car whipped around the corner of the parking lot, moving fast. He slammed on the brakes right in front of me, sending white smoke barreling towards me. The high-pitched squeal cuts through everything. I tried to keep from rolling my eyes and letting him see it. He was sending a message—an announcement of his mood. I swallowed hard and walked toward the car, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The passenger door opened with a sharp jerk. I climbed in quietly, shutting it behind me without a word. The silence was suffocating. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t ask if I was okay. Didn’t say anything at all. The entire drive back to the apartment passed in a thick, heavy quiet that pressed against my chest. I kept my eyes on the window, watching the world blur by, pretending I wasn’t sitting next to someone who used to feel like home. When we finally pulled up, the engine idled for a moment before he spoke.

“Do you realize how inconvenient that was for me?”

His voice was flat. Cold. I turned slowly, blinking back tears.

“Aaron, I—”

“Unlike you,” he continued, cutting me off, “I actually have responsibilities. Real things to take care of.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

“Are you serious right now?” My voice cracked. “I fell down a flight of stairs—”

“Oh, here we go,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Always something with you. Always about you.”

My chest tightened. I turned my head, pulling my hair back just enough to expose the gash.

“Does this look like nothing to you?”

He glanced at it briefly, unimpressed.

“You were probably distracted. Checking out some other guy.”

Something inside me snapped.

“FORGET YOU. WE’RE DONE!”

The words came out louder than I expected—stronger, sharper, filled with everything I’d been holding in for far too long. For a split second, there was silence. Then, a sharp crack. Pain exploded across my face, sudden and blinding. My head snapped to the side as the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I froze. The world went still.

“Damnit, look what you made me do,” Aaron said quickly, his tone shifting, panic creeping in, trying to real back what he did. “Stella, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

But I was already moving. I threw the door open and stumbled out of the car, my heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst. My vision blurred as I ran toward the stairs, my body screaming in protest.

“STELLA! WAIT!” he shouted behind me. “I’M SORRY! STOP!”

I didn’t. I couldn’t. I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped them. The second the door unlocked, I shoved it open, rushed inside, and slammed it shut behind me, locking it as fast as I could just as his footsteps hit the top of the stairs. I pressed my back against the door, sliding down until I hit the floor. My entire body trembled uncontrollably as sobs tore their way out of my chest. The banging came seconds later.

“STELLA! Open the door!”

Each hit made me flinch.

“Stella, I’m serious! Open it!”

I covered my ears, curling into myself, trying to disappear. After a moment, the pounding stopped. Silence. Then—

“Fine,” he said coldly from the other side. “You want to play this game? You’ll come crawling back tomorrow. You always do.”

His footsteps faded. And just like that… he was gone.

Time passed, though I couldn’t say how much. Minutes. Hours. It all blurred together. I sat there paralyzed.

Eventually, I forced myself up, my body heavy and aching. I moved slowly toward the bathroom, peeling off my clothes like they weighed a hundred pounds. The bathwater ran, steam rising as I sank into it. The heat should’ve been comforting. But it wasn’t. I sat there, not wanting to come back to reality. The water was cooling around me as everything I’d been holding in finally broke loose. I cried. I yelled. I slammed my hands down into the water. I let every memory, every bruise, every broken part of me rise to the surface. I eventually pulled myself up out of the water and by that time, my skin was pruned, my eyes swollen, my body exhausted in a way sleep couldn’t fix.

I dressed in silence and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. I just needed a moment—just one moment of peace.

The knock came out of nowhere. Loud. Sharp. My entire body tensed.

Slowly, I pushed myself up and walked to the door, my heart pounding again. I peeked through the peephole. Aaron. His face was tight, desperate.

“Stella… please,” he said through the door. “Just give me a second. I need to explain. I can’t lose you.”

My hand hovered over the lock. Part of me wanted to tell him to leave.

To be strong. To finally choose myself. But another part, the part that remembered who he used to be, hesitated. I turned the lock. And that was my mistake. The door flew open with a violent force, slamming into me and throwing me backward. Before I could react, his hands were on me. Wrapped around my throat. Cutting off air. My hands clawed at his, panic running through me.

“Aaron—stop—please—” I choked out, my voice barely came out. His grip tightened even harder. My vision started to go fuzzy. Then, suddenly, he threw me aside as if I were nothing. My body hit the floor hard, pain radiating through my side as I gasped for air. I scrambled backward, but he was already moving—heading toward the kitchen—a knife. My blood ran cold. Adrenaline surged through me as I pushed myself up and ran. The bedroom. If I could just—

The door slammed open behind me, crashing against the wall as he burst in.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped.

He grabbed my hair, yanking me back before throwing me onto the bed. The air rushed from my lungs as he climbed on top of me, the knife pressing cold against my skin.

“I told you,” he said, his voice low, “you’re NOT leaving me.”

I shook beneath him, tears streaming uncontrollably. Hitting the sheets underneath me.

“Please… Aaron… don’t…”

For a moment, everything froze.

Then his arm lifted—

And came down.

Pain tore through my collarbone as I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat—

“STELLA!”

I shot upright in bed, gasping for air, my heart slamming violently against my ribs, reaching and pulling at anything I could reach. The room spun as I looked around wildly. Dark. Quiet. Empty. No Aaron. No knife. Just me. Shaking. I reached up slowly, my fingers trembling as they found the scar along my collarbone—jagged, raised, permanent. Real. A reminder. I pressed my hand against it, trying to steady my breathing. But the fear… The fear never really left.