⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF ABUSE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Bonus chapter 1 |How It Happened (prt. 1)

5 years ago...

He was driving steadily within the lane. He wasn't groping me. His eyes were not bloodshot. That was good. That meant he was sober. For now. Until he got home and dug through his liquor cabinet, downing vodka shots like they were water.

The air between us was still uncomfortable because I knew where we were going and what was going to happen. I threw on a thick hoodie with fur on the inside as an attempt to not show too much skin. Hopefully, that would turn him off from not wanting to rape me this time.

I told my parents I was going shopping with 'Cece', a fictitious friend I made up so they wouldn't suspect I was seeing Gray. The same fake friend I told the boys I was hanging out with before I told them the truth. Mom and dad sometimes confronted me about smelling like smoke. I placed the blame on 'Cece' and said that her and her friends would always smoke around me.

They questioned why I still hung around them despite their poisonous habit, to which I'd reply saying that they were still my best friends. It felt wrong lying to my parents like that. I never lied. I was a good girl. However, that all changed.

Zach texted me saying to check in with him every hour when I got there. He and Kayden worry themselves to death every time I tell them I was going to Gray's. I come over with a new batch of bruises on my cheek, they squeeze me in their arms and we stay like that for what feels like a lifetime.

When we first met him at the coffee shop, the boys were instantly skeptical of him. Gray had a cigarette between his fingers which made the boys concerned I would develop lung cancer just by breathing in his space for thirty seconds. Everything about his features screamed that he was older than us. At least ten.

His smoking habit certainly played a big role in how yellow his teeth were, but he had broad shoulders and muscled biceps. His jawline was sharp enough that if I dared to reach for it, I would prick my finger.

The vibe that he brought in with him wasn't that good. And by 'that good', I meant all bad. The boys had every right to be hesitant when they saw him at our table. That oblivious, blushing little girl who was more focused on the idea of a hot, older man flirting with an insecure girl like me. Not listening to them was a colossal mistake. However, before he left my house for the first time, he punched me.

Despite my parents demanding me to never see him again, I felt trapped. He threatened to kill me if I ever dared to leave him. He also threatened any loved ones I told he hit me. That was why I made the boys swear to secrecy. There was no way I could live with myself if something happened to them or my parents all because I was weak.

At the same time, the relationship was unbearable. The sexual innuendos, the harassment, the blood and bruises littering my face. The smell of alcohol was the first thing to greet me when I stepped foot through the door. Bottles of scotch and beer were scattered across the coffee table, most of them almost empty.

His friends, Troy, Owen, Joshua and Devon were hibernating in the living room. Troy was rocking back and forth on the armchair with his eyes on the TV, Owen was sprawled out on the couch with his phone in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other, Joshua was passed out on the floor with a pungent smell of alcohol floating around him and Devon was staring into space with a cigarette between his fingers.

It was either alcohol or drugs in this group. Today, alcohol was winning by a long shot. As nurses, my parents warned me about the dangers that come with excess alcohol and the smoking habit. Dad would drag me away if he knew I was here.

Silence was permeating the room, the crowd cheering at the football game playing on the TV being the only noise occupying our ears. This was how me coming over usually started; Gray joining his friends in the living room with a tall bottle of vodka and him harassing me about a few hours later. Might as well get some homework done until then.

I plopped down at the small dining room table and hung my backpack around the back of my chair, pulling out my history textbook and notebook. Hours went by with me only jotting a few notes on the page. My notes only took up half the paper, but I could never focus when I was here.

Between the loud volume of the game and the fear of what Gray was going to do at any second. Also, my mind drifted off from the school subjects I studied. How my life would look if I never met Gray. How people always say that things happen for a reason. What reason it could be that I was destined for a life like this.

"Everything happens for a reason"

Bullshit.

I had done nothing but spread kindness in the world which it really needed. What the hell was I supposed to learn from this? That life wasn't all unicorns, rainbows and puppies? I already knew that before Gray entered my life.

Why was this happening to me? Gray snapped me out of my thoughts with the snap of his fingers and a half-full carton of milk in his other hand. I glanced between the milk and his face trying to wrack my brain around what he could be upset about.

"You were supposed to buy us more milk last week. This one's expired." As he slammed the carton onto the table, he wore the look that warned me about the next hit. I wasn't sure how that warranted a beating. I had been trying to save up for a new laptop with birthday money I accumulated since I was a toddler.

Christmas money, my allowance and money my grandparents would send just to help. My parents taught me, at a young age, to work hard for money to buy whatever I wanted. "You'd appreciate it more when you buy it yourself," mom always told me. The only reason her and dad bought me my phone was because I brought home straight As last trimester.

I would splurge on presents for the boys and my parents for their birthdays and Christmases, but most of my money was stored away in an envelope labeled 'Bella's savings'. Spending money on groceries that weren't even for me or my family wasn't exactly a priority for me. There was nothing I could say to save myself from his fist flying to my cheek. There was no point in even trying to defend myself.

The way his eyes darkened and he leaned in closer told me there was no escape. It took every fiber of my being to not cover my nose with my hoodie. Between the beer the boys in the living room were drinking and the pungent smell emanating off Gray, puke rose up my throat.

Being in this house for too long always made me feel sick to my stomach. The food needed to remain in my stomach. It wouldn't surprise me if Gray shoved my head into my own puddle of vomit. It was more of a challenge to keep it down when Gray fisted my hoodie and twisted the material in his hand, pulling me closer toward his face. "Do I need to remind you what happens when you don't do what I say?"

No.

You don't.

Please don't hurt me.

I'm sorry!

I inwardly pleaded because I couldn't beg out loud. That would only turn him on. Out of nowhere, a tiny slither of courage built up in my stomach. My mind flashed back to mere days ago when I was one millisecond away from cutting myself. Zach saved me by calling me right then and there.

There was a reason God put the thought in his head to call me. He wanted—no. He needed me to gain the bravery it took to finally escape this toxicity. Gray wouldn't kill me. It was simply a scare tactic. And it worked for months but I wasn't going to believe it anymore. I was smarter than that. What kept me going was thinking about the future I would've left behind if I hurt myself.

Going into high school and finally meeting my first best girlfriend.

Pouring my blood, sweat and tears getting straight As and joining different kinds of clubs for my college application.

Graduating high school with honors.

Moving in with my best friend.

God forbid, ten years from now, if Zach or Kayden ever get married. Watching Zach bounce up and down in nerves before the ceremony. Sweat moistened his face. He looked handsome though in his black tuxedo with a bow tie, green handkerchief in his pocket and his hair neatly gelled back.

"Let go." My voice gave away how scared I was. I shoved the fear down to my feet and spoke with a more stern voice. "Let go." A squeal broke out of my lips when he tightened his grip on my hoodie and yanked me closer toward his face.

If it were possible, his eyes darkened more at the tough tone laced in my voice. More images of the future circled around my head and that was all I needed to gain the courage.

"What did you just say?" He asked through gritted teeth.

A noise came from my phone. The familiar sound of Bruno Mars' voice singing Count On Me flooded the room.

Shit!

I forgot to silence my phone. His contact photo was one he took himself when he was playing with my phone the day my parents bought it for me.

He was mimicking a girl's duck face with his eyes closed and his fingers forming a peace sign. Gray snatched my phone from the table with a white-knuckling grip and a deadly glare practically burning the screen. "You're still seeing him? I told you not to see that fucking asshole again."

I winced as he slammed my phone back onto the table. He threatened me to ditch Zach and Kayden, but I couldn't do it. That would be like giving away my children. Zach was my bestest friend in the whole world and Kayden was his. Even though he was more of Zach's best friend than mine, I still could never live in a world without them.

I didn't realize that I was crying until I felt a tear escape the corner of my eye. "He's not an asshole." My voice sounded like I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "He's my best friend." The words came out in a soft whisper.

I was able to exhale when he let me go. More like, he pushed me back into the chair with a harsh force. That didn't last long. He paced back and forth, his fingers tangled in his hair before he stormed back and pulled me up by my throat. Terror wrapped itself around my stomach with a vice grip. It wouldn't let me flee away. My chest tightened seeing the fury clouding his eyes and I winced at the painful lump I swallowed down. I genuinely thought he was going to kill me.

That the hope of having a future without him in my life was useless. His other hand reached for the gun that was in his back pocket. I heard his fingers grab onto the pistol and I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing to feel the cold metal against my temple. I couldn't even send a last text to the boys and my parents telling them I loved them because my phone was behind Gray.

My breath hitched when I heard the sound of the gun rubbing against his jeans. I opened my eyes to see that he froze. If he was going to kill me, what was taking so long? Was he thinking of more ways to kill me or of another form of punishment? The lack of a devilish grin crawling across his face eliminated the second possibility.

Suddenly, a task as easy as breathing started to feel like a challenge. His fingers squeezed the oxygen out of my throat and each time I tried to inhale, it came out a gasp for air. My hands were repeatedly tapping his to let him know that I was dying.

What was the point? Clearly, he knew what he was doing and didn't care. His friends were helpless. The lack of oxygen in my lungs blurred my vision but I heard them gulping more beer and the volume of the football game increasing.

"Not anymore, he's not," he finally spoke. "You're mine."

Before I could comprehend what he was doing, I was flying mid-air — through the back door. My first instinct was to shield my face but that was futile. Shards of glass assaulted my face every which way and the skin felt like a wildfire was spreading.

The pace of my heart increased tenfold and it was thumping so loud, it drowned out the sound of my screams. I was too scared to open my eyes in case the grass was inches away from my head.

This was my breaking point. I curled my knees to my chest and started crying into my jeans. Gasping big sobs and wiping my tears away with my fists. This was the life I was born to have. To be treated like a punching bag. I wasn't meant to be happy. My life was going to be an endless nightmare.