Chapter 1- Falling Isn’t the Worst Part
Stella
“Stella! Shit, are you okay?”
My name sounded distant through the loud buzzing in my ears. The room was spinning, and I felt incredibly sick. Above me, a blur of random faces stared down, and I couldn’t focus on any of them. I felt totally exposed and vulnerable.
I tried to push myself up off the cold concrete, but my knees buckled right away. A massive wave of dizziness hit me and knocked me right back down.
“Hey, easy! I’ve got you.” Bree’s voice cut through the fog, and she grabbed me around the waist to steady me. She held on tight, keeping me from completely passing out.
“What… what happened?” My voice sounded weak and hoarse.
“You just fell down a flight of concrete stairs, you absolute klutz” Bree whispered, her voice shaking with panic. “Your head is split open, Stella. You’re bleeding everywhere.”
I blinked against the bright hallway lights, trying to clear my vision. Bree was hovering over me, looking completely terrified. She was my best friend and the only person on this campus I actually trusted or felt safe around. We’d been inseparable since middle school, right after her family moved from Kentucky to Texas and she sat next to me in fourth period.
We just got each other, mostly because we both grew up in dysfunctional homes. Her dad was a violent drunk, and her mom completely checked out to avoid him. My home life was just as bad. We stuck together to survive, spending every weekend at childhood sleepovers just to escape our families. The second we finished high school, we got an apartment together. It wasn’t about the college experience; we did it to get out. Now, we were putting ourselves through school, working for every dollar to build a better life.
My childhood ended at six when my dad died in a car wreck. After that, my mom brought home a rotating door of toxic guys she met at bars. I became an easy target for them, and she never once stepped in to protect me. It had been eight years since she finally left with another guy, abandoning me completely.
“You really need to let the campus nurse look at that,” Bree said, pulling me back to reality as she helped me up.
“I’ll be fine,” I mumbled, closing my eyes against a killer headache. “Head wounds always bleed a lot. Plus, I don’t want anyone fussing over me.” I couldn’t handle the attention. In my experience, attention always came with a price.
Before she could argue, a deep voice cut through the hallway, making me freeze. “That was a pretty bad fall.”
I turned slowly, and my breath caught tight in my throat. Professor Walker. He was tall, broad-shadowed, and entirely too attractive in a way that felt dangerous. He was the exact kind of guy I shouldn’t be looking at—the kind who knew exactly how much power he held over a room. His eyes locked onto mine, tracking the blood dripping down my face with an intense, lingering focus that made me feel entirely naked.
“Do you need help getting down to the clinic?” he asked, taking a step closer, crowding my space just enough to make my heart race.
My face burned under the harsh lights. “Um… no. I’m okay. Thank you, Professor.”
His hand brushed lightly against my back just to steady my shaky balance. The touch was brief, but it sent a sudden, unexpected jolt through me—a dark, electric spark that made my breath hitch. I hated myself for that reaction instantly. I hated how my past made me crave a guy’s attention so easily, even when I knew it was probably a bad idea. “Thank you for checking,” I said quickly, taking a big step back before I could embarrass myself any further or let him see how much he rattled me. “I’m just going to head straight home.”
I needed to get out of the building fast. People always seemed to care at first, saying all the right, sweet things. But I always gave too much, cared too deeply, and attached too quickly—only to end up used, broken, and completely discarded. I had promised myself I wouldn’t end up like my mother, constantly needing toxic guys who just ruined her life. But somehow, I kept falling into that exact same pattern.
It was our senior year. Just one more hurdle and I’d finally have my degree in Child Therapy. I wanted to save kids who came from the exact same dark situations as Bree and me. Maybe if I could fix them, if I could heal their scars, I’d feel a little less broken myself.
“I’m taking you home,” Bree said firmly when we reached a bench in the stone courtyard.
I shook my head, leaning my aching head back against the brick wall, closing my eyes against the sun. “No, you have class. I’m not messing up your attendance records.”
“I don’t give a damn about class,” she shot back, looking fiercely protective. “I care about you. Plus, it might keep other people from asking questions.”
I forced a weak laugh but regretted it instantly when a sharp pain shot through my head. “Pretty sure the whole campus already saw me wipe out on the stairs anyway.”
She didn’t smile. Her expression stayed completely serious, heavy with a worry she couldn’t hide.
“I’ll call Aaron,” I said quietly, trying to calm her down. “He can come pick me up.”
The second I mentioned my boyfriend, Bree’s expression went totally blank. She absolutely hated him—we both knew why—but she didn’t push it today. She could tell I was too exhausted and close to a breaking point to handle an argument.
“Fine,” she said quietly, checking her watch with a sigh. “My last class ends at 5:30. Do you still want to go out tonight?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said automatically, looking down at the dried blood on my fingers. “I’ve had worse.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell between us. We both knew exactly what that meant, and exactly who had caused those worse injuries.
Bree didn’t push it. She just leaned in and pulled me into a tight, desperate hug. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” I whispered against her shoulder, holding onto the only real anchor I had left in this world.
As she walked away, I pulled out my phone with trembling hands and texted Aaron. A few seconds later, it buzzed aggressively in my palm, the text feeling like a slap.
Aaron: Seriously, Stella? I’m fucking busy. But I’ll drop everything like I always do.
My jaw tightened, and a heavy knot formed in my stomach. He was already twisting things and making me feel like a burden. I could have told him how much pain I was in, or that I just needed him to actually be a partner for once. Instead, I just typed, “Okay. Thank you. Love you.” Because giving in was just easier. It always was. Aaron wasn’t easy to deal with anymore—he was unpredictable and felt like a trap I’d walked right into—but he was familiar. And sometimes, when you’re broken, what’s familiar feels safer than the unknown, even when it hurts.
The bathroom light was blindingly bright, making everything look a thousand times worse. I gripped the edge of the cold sink, staring at my reflection like I didn’t even recognize myself. Blood had dried in dark streaks down the side of my face, and it had ruined my favorite shirt, too. Damnit, I really liked this shirt.
I let out a shaky sigh. Up close, the cut near my hairline looked swollen and raw, still slowly bleeding. I reached up and lightly touched it, but a sharp, blinding pain shot through my head instantly. I gasped, gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white as the room started to tilt again. I closed my eyes, trying to catch my balance against the dizziness. “Pull it together,” I whispered fiercely to myself.
A few girls came and went behind me, their voices hushed, their eyes lingering way too long on my damaged face. They looked at me like I was a car crash.
“Are you okay?” one of them asked, her voice dripping with pity.
“Shit, do you need help?” another added. “Should someone call—”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I repeated over and over, sticking to the script even though my reflection showed the exact opposite. I tried to wipe away the blood with a damp paper towel, but it just smeared into a messy, pink blur across my skin. After a minute, I couldn’t stand looking at myself anymore. I turned and walked out, pushing through the heavy front doors into the open air. The cool breeze hit my flushed skin, grounding me a little. I closed my eyes for a second, letting it wash over me, trying to quiet the chaos and dread drumming in my head.
Twenty minutes later, I heard it before I saw it. The sound of screeching tires.
My stomach dropped. Aaron’s red sports car whipped around the corner of the campus parking lot, going way too fast. He slammed on the brakes right in front of me, sending up a cloud of smoke. The high-pitched squeal was a loud announcement of his mood. I swallowed hard, forced my face into a blank mask, and walked toward the car. Each step felt heavier than the last.
The passenger door opened with a sharp, aggressive jerk. I climbed in quietly and shut it behind me without saying a word.
The silence inside the car was suffocating and heavy with a danger I knew all too well. He didn’t look at me, didn’t ask if I was okay, and didn’t say a single thing. The entire drive back to my apartment was quiet, which was really uncomfortable. I just stared out the window, watching everything blur by and pretending I wasn’t sitting right next to a jerk.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, the car idled for a long moment before he finally spoke.
“Do you realize how much of a hassle this was for me?” His voice was totally flat and cold. I turned around slowly, trying not to cry.
“Aaron, I—”
“Unlike you, Stella,” he said, cutting me off, “I actually have responsibilities. I have real shit to take care of.” That really hurt, and it broke the last bit of my patience.
“Are you serious right now?” my voice cracked. “I fell down a flight of stairs—”
“Oh, here we go,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s always something with you. Always about you.”
My chest tightened, and I felt sick. I turned my head and pulled my hair back to show him the raw, bleeding cut near my hairline. “Does this look like nothing to you?!”
He glanced at it for a second, totally unfazed, before giving me an ugly, jealous look. “You were probably distracted. Checking out some other guy again.” For a split second, there was a dead, terrifying silence inside the car.
“Stupid slut,” he muttered under his breath. He thought he said it quietly enough, but I heard every single word.
Something inside me finally snapped. All the years of holding back and walking on eggshells completely disappeared under a wave of pure anger.
“Fuck you. We’re done!”
It came out way louder and sharper than I expected, packed with everything I’d been holding in for way too long. For a second, the car went dead silent.
Then he hit me.
Aaron was always reckless when he lost control. He hit me just because it was easy and I was there. Pain exploded across my face, and my head snapped to the side as I immediately tasted blood. I froze, completely stunned.
“Damnit, look what you made me do,” Aaron said quickly, his voice turning panicked as he tried to blame me for what he just did. “Stella, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
But I was already moving on pure adrenaline. I threw the passenger door open and scrambled out of the car, my heart hammering in my chest. Tears blurred my eyes as I ran toward the apartment stairs, hurting with every step.
“STELLA! WAIT!” he shouted behind me, his car door slamming with a loud bang. “I’M SORRY! STOP!”
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I fumbled frantically with my keys, my hands shaking so bad I almost dropped them on the concrete. The second the door unlocked, I shoved it open, rushed inside, and slammed it shut behind me, throwing the heavy deadbolt just as his boots hit the top of the stairs.
I slid down against the door until I hit the floor, shaking uncontrollably and crying. Seconds later, he started banging on the door, rattling the frame right against my back.
“Stella! Open the door!” Every loud thud made me flinch, and I covered my head with my arms. “Stella, I’m serious! Open it!”
I pressed my hands over my ears and curled into a tight ball on the floor, just wanting to disappear. After what felt like forever, the pounding finally stopped. It went completely quiet before he spoke again.
“Fine, bitch,” he said coldly through the door. “You want to play this game? You’ll come crawling back tomorrow. You always fucking do.”
His footsteps slowly faded down the stairs. And just like that… the monster was gone.
I lost track of time completely. Minutes and hours just blurred together while I sat there on the floor, too exhausted to move.
Eventually, I forced myself to get up. I dragged myself to the bathroom and peeled off my bloody clothes, which felt incredibly heavy. I turned on the bathwater and got into the hot tub as the steam started to fog up the mirrors.
The heat should’ve been comforting, but it just made my wounds throb. I sat there, not wanting to come back to reality, the water cooling around my skin as everything I’d been holding in finally broke loose. I cried. I yelled. I slammed my hands down into the water, letting every dark memory, every bruise, and every broken part of me rise to the surface.
By the time I pulled myself out, my skin was completely pruned, my eyes swollen, and my body exhausted in a way sleep could never fix. I pulled on a large shirt and collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the dark ceiling. I just needed a moment—just one single moment of peace in the dark.
The knock came out of nowhere. Loud. Sharp. Destructive.
I completely froze, and my heart started hammering in my chest again. I slowly walked over to the door and looked through the peephole.
It was Aaron. He looked incredibly tense and desperate.
“Stella… please,” he said through the door, sounding pathetic but still completely terrifying. “Just give me a second. I need to explain. I can’t lose you.”
I hesitated with my hand on the lock. Part of me wanted to tell him to go to hell and finally stand up for myself, but the other part of me was just terrified of what he’d do if I said no.
I unlocked it, and it was a massive mistake.
The door burst open, slamming into my chest and knocking me flat onto the floor. Before I could even yell, his hands were around my throat, completely cutting off my air. I clawed at his skin, totally panicking as I tried to breathe.
“Aaron—stop—please—” I choked out, but the words barely formed, swallowed by his grip. His hold tightened even harder, squeezing the very life from my lungs. My vision started to go fuzzy, fracturing into dark edges.
Then, suddenly, he threw me aside like a rag doll. My body hit the hardwood floor hard. Sharp pain shot through my side as I gasped frantically for air. My nails clawing at the floorboards as I choked. I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, terrified, But he was already moving, walking straight toward the kitchen with a purpose.
A knife.
My blood ran cold. Adrenaline rushed through me like a drug as I pushed myself up and ran toward the bedroom. If I could just lock the door…
The bedroom door swung open behind me, crashing against the drywall as he burst into the room, a predator cornering his prey.
“Where do you think you’re fucking going?” he snapped, his voice a low, terrifying growl that rattled my bones.
He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking me back hard until my scalp burned. He threw me onto the bed. The air rushed from my lungs as he climbed on top of me, pinning my limbs with his weight. The cold, lethal steel of the kitchen knife pressed directly against my throat, biting into my skin.
“I told you,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath making me sick, “You’re NOT leaving me.”
I shook hard beneath him, tears streaming, hitting the sheets underneath my face, completely helpless. “Please… Aaron… don’t…”
For a single, breathless second, everything stopped.
Then his arm lifted high, the blade catching the light, and came crashing down. Pain tore through my collarbone as a scream ripped from the very depths of my soul—
“STELLA!”
I shot straight upright in bed, gasping for air, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird trying to break free. My hands scrambled blindly, reaching and pulling at the tangled sheets, trying to find a weapon, trying to find an exit.
The room spun around me as I looked around, my chest heaving. Dark. Quiet. Empty. No Aaron. No knife. Just me, shaking uncontrollably in the dead, suffocating silence of the night.
I reached up slowly, my fingers trembling violently as they traced the skin along my collarbone. My nail caught on the scar—jagged, raised, permanent, and real. A reminder. A warning. I pressed my palm flat against it, forcing myself to take slow, deliberate breaths. But the fear… the deep, dark trauma of what a man’s hands could do… that fear never really left my bones. It was inked into me.
