CHAPTER ONE

Bella’s POV

Tonight is the night. 

I don't know how I ended up in a year-long abusive relationship, but it's becoming more and more difficult to work with all these bruises. If I wasn't working, we would both be broke because Mark doesn't lift a finger. His parents pay the rent for us, which is the only reason I have a roof over my head, but he bullies me for all the money I make so that he can buy more alcohol and drugs, and take out his intoxication on me. 

It's not like I haven't tried. I would do anything to get away from him. But up until now, I would have been homeless if I had left him.

I started saving money secretly. And now that I have enough, I can finally leave. Tonight. 

I won't make the mistake of letting him know. I must leave silently, and I might have to quit my job too if I intend on getting away from him completely.

"You'll never believe what I got today," Norah says excitedly. 

"Keep your voice down. You're going to get us fired," I scold.

Everything about my job is pretentious. Its not everyday a mess like me gets to work at a place like this, and I have to work extra hard to be just as fake and uptight as everyone else. Norah doesn’t really try. She’s a little reckless, but in a childish and innocent way. I try to take care of her at work and outside work, her husband does everything he can to keep her out of trouble.

Norah pouts, and I pull her out of the kitchen until we're in a safe, quiet zone. She shows me a small vile wrapped in a silky napkin, watching with wide eyes to see my reaction.

"What the hell is that?" I have to ask. She grins. "It's another poison to add to my collection. I finally got the belladonna extract," she explains.

"Are you crazy?" I whisper-shout, looking around. "This is a restaurant! You have to stop bringing them here!"

She's still grinning, too delighted to care. "What? I got it on my way here. It's not my fault I have to work night shifts."

I roll my eyes.

"Norah!" someone calls out. "Oh, shit. Can you hold on to this for me for a while?"

She shoves the item into my hands before I can refuse and I stare at her retreating figure in disbelief.

Norah is the strangest person I've met. And if she wasn't my best friend, I would have sworn she was a witch because of all the weird stuff she's into. But she's such a sweet, innocent person, I don't know what I'd do without her.

"Bella!"

I sigh at the sound of my name, tucking it into my pocket and rushing back to work.

"Table six. The guy in the suit just got here," our coordinator says. I nod, knowing I'll have to attend to him until he leaves.

I walk over with a practiced smile, but it fades as soon as I get to table six.

He looks up, staring blankly at me, as if waiting for me to say my 'lines.' But I'm speechless, paralyzed by his dark eyes. He's overwhelmingly handsome.

"A glass of white wine, please," he says, knowing I should've asked him if he'd like anything to drink. But I'm sweating profusely through my uniform now, too embarrassed to do anything but walk away and get him his drink.

"Get it together, Bella!" I scold myself as I prepare to approach table six again. Its not like I haven’t seen a handsome man before. It's just a face, it's just a bloody face.

I pour him a glass, surprised at how steady I've been able to keep my hands. I've been doing this for a while.

"What would you like to start with, sir?" I ask.

"So you do speak. I'll have the Oyster Rockefeller starter."

"Alright. And will anyone be joining you tonight?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

I’m holding back tears of shame when I walk away. Did he just insult me?

I give his order before sitting shamefully in the rowdy kitchen. I wonder who's joining him. Is it a woman? I shake my head hard to dismiss the thought. I should mind my business. 

My heart leaps in an odd mix of excitement and fear when his order is ready. I look around for Norah hoping I can just switch tables with her, but she's nowhere to be found. I huff, grabbing the tray and carrying it over, praying that I don't make a fool of myself again.

He's on the phone when I arrive. The only thing I hear is, "You could have just said no," before he sets his phone back on the table.

"More wine, sir?"

He looks up at me. "Yes."

I can feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of my face as I refill his glass.

"Bella," he says, my name rolling off his tongue like a new discovery. I stop. I return the bottle into the bucket of ice. "The name suits you," he adds, looking from my name tag to my face. His speaks in a clipped tone. Almost vaguely sarcastic, but he doesn't seem like the kind to say anything he doesn't mean.

"Thank you, sir. Let me know if you need anything else."

I turn and leave.

Luckily, I get to attend to other people for a while which distracts me from Mr. Cultured and Mysterious at table six. The restaurant becomes so busy that our tables get switched up and eventually someone else hands him the bill. It's probably for the best. I don't think I can handle another lingering gaze from him.

The evening takes a dark turn as work becomes more intense and it seems a hundred people are calling my name at a time. But I somehow manage to remain composed, right until the moment I take a few steps away from a few customers and bump into someone. I turn around, hoping it's just one of my colleagues, only to find the guy from table six bent over the ground. When he straightens, Norah's vile of poison is in his hand, and the velvet napkin in the other. 

He wraps it with the napkin, handing it to me. "This fell from your pocket."

I take it, thanking him and watching him leave.

***

My shift finally comes to an end, and I'm literally shaking in the taxi knowing that this is my last chance to flee. Mark is supposed to be out tonight. I don't know where he intends on going but I overheard him on the phone with one of his asshole friends. As the taxi stops, I can hear the clock ticking. So I rush into the apartment with one objective in mind. Grab the money, grab my shit, and run.

My heart stops when I open the door to find him waiting for me.

"Mark," I say, looking cautiously between the bag in his hand and his face. It's where I've been keeping the money. I don't know how he found it.

"You're not very good at hiding stuff from me. You know that."

"I can explain," I start. But as he waits for an explanation, I don't have one. I stare at him for a while, holding back tears. I've waited weeks for him to get out of the apartment so that I can leave and if he takes the money now I'm stuck with him for God knows how long.

"You're trying to leave me again, aren't you," he says. I sigh, feeling a chilling amount of sadness overwhelm me.

"Yes, Mark. I am. I can't do this anymore so please," I beg. "Please just give me the bag and let me go."

“What? Are you crying again?” he scoffs, stepping towards me. “Don’t come any closer!” I warn him, pulling out my phone. “I’l call the police if you do.”

His expression changes slightly from one of anger to fear, but the fear is gone before I can threaten him any further. 

“Go ahead. Maybe they’ll give you a place to stay since I’ll be in prison for trying to care for you,” he says. 

“Care for me? Don’t make me laugh.”

I’m trying once again to be tough. To stand up to him. But I’ve never actually suceeded. There is a moment of silence before he sighs deeply.

"It's okay, Bella. Let me get you a drink and we can talk about this."

“Talk?”

“Yes. We’re both adults, we’re both reasonable, let’s talk it out. Go on. Get changed."

I walk over to the bedroom to get out of my uniform. I place Norah's item in my drawer, wondering how I managed to forget to give it back to her. In fact, I don't think I saw her at all until I left. That's odd. I should check on her later.

I change into something more comfortable before meeting Mark in the kitchen. He hands me a glass of whatever he’s having before resting on one of the bar stools.

“I don’t want to talk. I just want to leave,” I say to him. 

“Where, Bella? You think you can just get away from me that easily?” 

I take the glass and gulp down its content, hoping the alcohol can give me enough courage to have this hopeless conversation.

“That’s the problem,” I say. “I want you to let me go. Forever.”

I choke a little, setting the glass down. “This beer tastes weird.”

I remember the bag of cash and look around for it. I can’t say it was easy to save all that money. In fact, it was painfully tasking.

“Can’t you see how much I love you? I’d rather die than let you leave me,” Mark says, pulling my hands into his. I jerk them away with so much force that I lose my balance and begin to feel dizzy. I must be really tired.

I look around once more, but the bag is nowhere to be found.

“Looking for you little stash?” He asks, knowing I’m already very upset about the money. I turn back to him to see a mischievous grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Mark, please.” I don’t sound like myself anymore. It’s as if something has changed. Something has shifted in the atmosphere and I can tell by the sick feeling in my stomach that it wont end well.

“You worry too much,” he chuckles. “Let’s get you to bed,” he says getting off the bar stool. 

I take a step back as he moves towards me. My body goes limp and I fall into his arms anyway, barely able to keep my eyes open.

“You seem very tired.”

I shove him away once more, ending up on the kitchen floor, placing my palm on my chest. Nothing about this feeling is normal. And by the time I realise what’s going on, the effect has already set in.

“Did you fucking drug me?”

He yanks me off the floor. “I said, let’s get you to bed,” he insists, more aggressively and a bit more eager this time. 

He carries me off and I can’t find it in me to protest. Before I know it, I’m sprawled over the bed, a panting, sweating mess, slowly losing consciousness. He’s standing right over me when I fall asleep.

***

When I wake up, my heart is racing. I’m afraid, but mostly so pissed I think I might kill him.

I stumble out of the bed when I see that he’s not in the bedroom. The alarm clock reads 1:00am. Thankfully, I’ve regained enough strength to get back up on my feet, but I still feel dazed, and my vision is a little blurry.

I shake me head. *focus*.

I walk as discreetly as I can into the living room to find him sleeping on the couch, his mouth half open, the TV still on, and a bag of chips threatening to slip out of his fingers. I stand incredibly still, barerly breathing,

I look between him and the door, thinking this is my chance. I don’t care about the money anymore. I’d sleep on the streets if I had to.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself so that I can walk all the way to the door without being heard or seen.

I only take three steps forward when I trip and fall with a loud thud, startling him awake. His eyes are burning with rage as soon as he sees me. I scramble to my feet before he can reach me, but it doesn’t take long for him to catch up. He grabs me by my arms. “You will never leave me,” he seethes.

From the moment the words leave his mouth, something snaps inside me. The fear and anger and pain causes an adrenaline rush so strong that I only become aware of myself when I’m outside on the sidewalk, limping away.

The cool night breeze hits me, snapping me back to reality. I’m cold. I’m homeless. I’m injured. And worst of all, I am barely conscious.

I collapse onto the hard concrete, sobbing softly. I have never felt so helpless.

I see footsteps approaching, and when I look up, I see the figure of a man looking down at me right before I pass out.