I rush into the bathroom, finding the sink to lean against. I look at my reflection in the mirror. I look awful. My once-blonde hair is stained red with blood. The shards of glass peek out from where they are tangled in the matted strands, and sparkle whenever the light hits them. My amber eyes are glistening with tears. I don't know why I'm upset – I should be used to it. I sigh and start to pick the glass pieces out of my hair. I suddenly feel woozy, causing me to hold onto the sink to keep myself up. I finally regain my sense of balance, and restart on getting all the glass out of my hair. I should probably go to the hospital; I'm bound to need stitches and the glass needs removing properly, but I'm afraid of the questions they'll ask.

I start to take my clothes off. I avoid looking at my body, which I have been told is fat and disgusting repeatedly—and with all the bruises, it probably is. I turn the warm water of the shower on, stepping under it. I sigh as it starts to relax my tense muscles and finally let the tears fall. I have plans to go out with my best friend, Piper, tonight. She's going to ask questions and I hate lying to her.

Soon, the bathroom steams up, and I start to feel woozy again. I quickly shut the water off and exit the shower. I pull down the lid of the toilet and sit down, waiting for the feeling to pass. I really need to see a doctor. I get dressed for tonight, and walk out of the bedroom ignoring the broken bottle and the blood, not wanting to relive it all over again. I wait and listen to the house. It sounds like no one is here. I relax slightly, walking downstairs to the kitchen, retrieving the phone, and keying the number I know by heart. He picks up after two rings.

"Hello?" he asks.

"I need you, again," I tell him through the fresh tears that have escaped.

"Oh, Aphrodite, of course, I'll be over in a couple of minutes."

Just like he said, a couple of minutes later there is a knock on the door. I open it, and relax even more when I see him standing there with his medical bag in his hands. Dr. Clayton Jones is the only doctor that I trust enough to not ask questions.

"Jesus!" he exclaims when he looks me over. I bite my lip and look away from his gaze. "Let's get you cleared up."

He leads me to the couch, pushing me onto it. He tilts my head down and examines the wound, sucking a breath through his teeth.

"DeeDee..." he starts, using my nickname. "I have to ask, after all the injuries I see, how are you getting them?"

His brow is furrowed in concern. He lets go of my head and I straighten up, looking around the small living room at anywhere but him. I stare at the white fireplace before moving onto the pearl grey walls scattered with framed photos. I go back to looking down at the cream rug on the dark wood floor. I guess I was wrong; he was bound to ask me at some point.

"I'm just accident prone. I tripped into the glass cabinet upstairs," I say, knowing I lack conviction.

He pushes my chin up, so he can look me in the eyes. "You know we both don't believe that."

I sigh, looking back down. He goes back to his examination, bringing out a pair of tweezers. Clayton tucks a piece of his long black hair, which has fallen into his grey eyes, behind his ear. He has always known something is up, but has never pushed me for answers.

"Who's responsible?" he asks.

I pause and hear the front door open. I look to the left and see my husband, Roman, towering over me in the doorway. He looks between me and Clayton.

"What happened?!" My body flinches as I hear Roman's loud, intimidating voice coming closer, as he runs towards us. I look up at him, avoiding his eyes. I sense Clayton looking at me.

"Hey, Ro. She's okay, I'm sure it is nothing serious. I'm just going to give her a couple of stitches," Clayton explains. I give a forced smile, when Roman turns his ice blue gaze to me.

"What happened?" he asks again, looking right at me.

I look over the top of his caramel hair, focusing on anything but him, the smile dropping from my face. He already knows everything that happened. After all, he was the one to do it to me. He got angry over something insignificant and small, causing him to reach for the nearest thing, which happened to be a bottle. He then took the anger out on me by hitting me over the head with it. I've had to deal with his anger and abuse for two years. He was nice and loving until we got married. I look back to Clayton, who is looking at me expectantly.

"I fell," I mumble.

"Well, at least you're okay," he says. I give a weak smile. Clayton narrows his eyes at me; I shake my head slightly, silently telling him to let it go. He reaches back into his bag, and brings out some thread and a surgical needle. He wipes the wound before he starts to sew a few stitches, as Roman starts to talk again.

"I got the papers for the new inmates that are joining us today."

"Let's hope they don't cause trouble and make my job harder," Clayton remarks with a wink. I let out a small laugh.

"DeeDee, be careful around them, okay? They don't know the rules," Roman instructs. I make a noise of affirmation, not really listening to him.

Roman is warden to the prison which is situated opposite us, across the road. Roman demanded that we would move close to his work. He uses me as a kind of secretary, so I'm not allowed to leave my office, or walk through without being accompanied. My only escape is at 1 p.m., on some days, when I go down to the visitation center and visit an inmate who has been cleared by Roman first (of course), with a request for someone to talk to.

Usually it's because their family and friends don't visit them. It's mostly older inmates who are nearing the end of their sentences. I currently have three inmates who are 'regulars'. They just want to hear what is going on in the outside world and hear about my life, I guess to them, I'm like the family who never visits. Each inmate only gets three visitors per month, so I only get to escape if there are inmates who are allowed visitors that day.

Clayton finishes his work, before covering the stitches, and tapping my chin telling me I can now look up.

"They should be gone in about two weeks. In the meantime, no more accidents," he orders.

I nod slightly, fiddling with the dark grey material of the couch, knowing I can't promise anything. He begins to pack up, and I look to the clock. It reads 8:30 p.m. Roman is flexible about his hours, he enjoys his job and spends as much time as he can working. I think it's a power thing, knowing that the inmates are under his control.

I had told Piper that I would meet her in half an hour, so I bid farewell to Clayton and tell Roman that I'll be back late. As I walk past him he pulls me closer, kissing my cheek. I have to hold myself from pulling away in disgust. Before he does allow me to pull away, Roman grips my arm tightly so he can mutter something. I look back to Clayton, but he is busy with what he's doing.

"Is that what you're wearing?" he asks. I nod in response. "I guess I don't have to worry about losing you to another man, even if his standards are at rock bottom."

He sneers at me. I press my lips together, waiting for him to finish. He finally lets my arm go. I bow my head as I reach for my bag and walk out of the door, feeling ashamed and worthless. I rush down to my car. It's old and not always reliable, but it's the only thing that makes me feel like I have some sort of freedom.

I open the door and slide down into it. As I push the key into the slot and twist it, I think to myself, as I do every time I enter the car, that I could keep driving and not come back. I would if I could, but he's told me he would track me down and make sure my life is hell, more than it already is, and I believe him. I can't go to the police, they wouldn't believe me. Roman is one of them and has them all in his back pocket, and even if I could get him arrested he's told me who would replace him.

I sigh and pull out and start on my way to meet Piper.

*^*^*

I pull up to the bar Piper and I always come to, and put the car into park. I lock it before entering the building. The elevator was just opening, so I allow the people out before I go in and up to the rooftop terrace. When I exit the elevator I look around and see that it's quite busy.

The darkening sky is lit up by the strings of lights hanging overhead. I look at the bar to the right and see Piper standing there talking to the bartender, who is looking at her appreciatively. I grin. Her mother is Indian, and she takes after her with her chocolate brown eyes and brown hair. We've known each other since we were babies, and I can't see my life without her. I walk up next to her, resting my hands on the bar. She looks away from the bartender and squeals, pulling me into a hug.

"Hey, how are you?" she asks moving back. Her eyes travel to my wound, before looking back down to my eyes. "What happened to you?!"

"Um... I fell into the glass cabinet on the upstairs landing," I hesitantly reply. She raises an eyebrow.

"Right." Her tone suggests she doesn't believe me. Piper knows something is up, she always knows when I'm not truthful with her. She forces a smile onto her face.

"Okay, I hope you're not on any meds because I have just what the doctor ordered, each of us a bottle of our favorite and two straws," she says winking, letting me know she's joking.

You never know with Piper. I chuckle, telling her that I'm not. However, I'm sure that I will be tomorrow. Piper turns back to the bartender, takes the bottle and two wine glasses he's holding, pays and thanks him. We walk to an empty table, and sit down. From our seats you can see the lights starting to turn on all over the city. Piper passes me a full glass, before pouring herself one.

"So, how's Roman doing?" she asks, contempt clear in her tone. She's never tried to hide her disapproval towards Roman. She's said to me before that as long as I love him, that's all that matters and she would try to be civil around him. I take a gulp of the wine, needing to calm myself, before I answer the question.

"The same as always, busy with work," I reply shortly, not wanting to talk about him.

"Oh, yeah, how are the inmates?" she asks, with a cheeky glint in her eyes. She's always had a thing for bad boys. I chuckle before answering.

"As well as they can be, being that they are stuck in prison. How's work?" I inquire, changing the topic to her. Piper is a legal secretary in one of the leading law firms in the city. She is always moaning about how demanding her boss is and how he's always asking for her to go and get his dry cleaning and other mundane tasks. Sure enough, Piper starts to complain that today Mr. Woodley, her boss, asked her to rearrange all his files—which apparently is a lot—into alphabetical order. I've only met her boss once, but the impression I got from him is that he's an old fart who thinks that woman are inferior, and that he's better than everyone who isn't at the same pay grade as him. I don't mind her venting to me, as a result. As time goes by, the conversation flows and so does the wine.

Soon enough, the bottle is empty and we are getting to the point of being slightly tipsy. I am just getting up to go to the bar to get another bottle when I am stopped by the bartender walking to our table, two pink drinks in hand. I turn back to Piper, raising an eyebrow.

"From the man at the bar," he explains. I let out a soft chuckle. There was more than one man at the bar. I turn around and see a man, who I guess to be the sender, lift his glass up in a salute.

"Looks like you have an admirer," I remark sitting back down. She grins, shaking her head.

"I don't think I'm the object of his affections. He's looking right at you," Piper counters. Why would he be looking at me, when Piper is sitting across from me? I look dull compared to Piper. I shake my head back at her.

"No. He's looking at you."

"DeeDee, why do you doubt that another man wants you? You're beautiful." I look down at my lap, and at my hands. I can't tell her. "Go and talk to him, that's the only way of finding out for sure."

I sigh, and look back up at her. Roman isn't here, and would be nice, for once, to know that someone finds me attractive. I take my glass before standing up and walking to the bar, my eyes set on the man.

Here it is! The first part of my new book! I've had a lot of fun writing, and looking everything up for, this! I hope you enjoy this as much as I do writing it!

I'm a bit stuck on where I should put this (Romance or Mystery). Foremost it's a romance so I have decided to put it in that category, do you agree?

What do you think of it so far?

Thanks for reading, voting, commenting, sharing, and following!

CC ;)