Chapter 1, Cleo

"Please don't leave me." My head hurts so much, my throat is tight and the sobs wrecking through me aren't helping. My heart aches.

I reach my hands out to the small figure laying in the hospital bed. Luke's eyes are closed, and he looks so peaceful, as if he's sleeping.

But he's not. His body's so cold, and pale, and he looks nothing like the enthusiastic five years old boy I knew.

My baby brother's dead.

He's dead, gone, I'll never see him again. Fuck. My heart lurches, and I feel like I'm fucking drowning. I can't breathe. I wish I'd die right now, so I don't have to endure the pain of losing him. Of not hearing his laugh, of not seeing his dashing smile and correcting him when he calls me "Mama."

I want to look away, but I can't. I can't wrap my head around the fact that he's gone. Part of me believes he'll just wake up, rub the sleep out of his blue eyes and greet me good morning. But that won't happen, because life's a bitch. A motherfucking bitch, and I just lost the sole reason I held on.

Luke was the last family I had. I'm all alone now.

I brought all of this upon me. I always do.

I have a lot of flaws, but one thing is sure, I am master of my own destruction.

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There are bruises on my neck.

It would take so much more energy to cover them than I can muster, so I just wear a turtle-neck. A turtle neck in the middle of summer, in LA, how ingenious.

As I get ready, I try to ignore the pain in my arms every-time I use them. Just like my neck, my arms and legs are covered in bruises as well. I'm too scared to take off my shirt in front of a mirror and see what's been done to my stomach, but considering the unending ache there, I am right not to.

I don't know what I did wrong, but Chadwick came back home very late last night. Drunk.

I shouldn't have gotten him angry, and asked him why he was home so late. Maybe I should't have been all up in his business, or stormed out of the living room. Maybe I am the issue.

But when he finished beating me, bleeding and a few moments away from unconsciousness, he picked me up and cleaned me.

"I hate to get mad at you, baby. You always make me mad, and I lose control." He said, while he bathed me. His hands running down my naked, injured skin. Soothing the pain he inflicted himself.

I couldn't muster an answer, my silent crying was enough. He wiped my tears, pressing kisses to my cheeks. He was being so gentle, but I never let it fool me. There is such a contrast between the moment he hits me, and the moment he cleans the mess he made. Fury and tenderness.

And so I am trapped, like a bee in a spider's web in a prison of my own making.

I am snapped out of my thoughts, and the memories of the previous nights when my phone starts to ring. My heart clutches tightly in my chest when I look at the caller ID. It is the third time Esmeralda's called me today, and as much as it hurts me not to answer her, I can't. I just know she'll immediately notice something's wrong, and I don't have the heart to lie to her. It's pathetic how I always used to make big speeches to her about how she cannot let a man make her feel vulnerable, that she's strong, and that her being a former victim of rape doesn't define who she is now, and not even follow my own advice.

I tried. I fucking tried, but every time I do, he reminds me that I am nothing without him, and that my father would be very crossed to hear that his daughter is refusing to obey.

Esme's my best-friend entire world. We grew up together, went to prom together, graduated together, moved in together for a few months, shared our darkest and deepest secrets, and I can handle everything. Every damn thing, except for my best-friend to be disappointed in me.

Esmeralda is the last thing as close to a family that I'll probably ever have, and I think I'd rather live with self-loathing and the guilt of not being here for her when she needs me, than with her knowing I am a victim of domestic abuse.

When I'm finally ready, I grab my purse, my keys and manage to open my front door to get out of my apartment. Only to be met with a wall.

Oh, no not a wall. A very big and sculpted chest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see-" I trail off when I look up to find familiar hazel eyes staring back at me.

My heart skips its next beats, and my breath catches in my throat.

"Hi, Cleo." Ellis Chase speaks with his husky and unbelievably sexy voice.

Oh Lord, what is he doing here ?!

It has been two whole months since the man standing before me bailed on me on our first date, and has been off radar since. I try not to look too upset, but it obviously fails because I am upset.

"What are you doing here ?" I ask dryly, not quite meeting his eyes.

He moves his hand up to reach his head, and runs a hand through his golden-brown hair, that's long enough to braid. I take that as an opportunity to look him over, and notice he's wearing his work attire. A white shirt that's opened at the three first buttons, grey pants, and a matching grey jacket. His half lazy half classy look makes him look even more handsome than he already is.

Alright, now is the moment when you remember you're supposed to be very upset because he freaking bailed on you on your very first date, Cleo.

"I wanted to apologize for bailing on you, and not giving you any news for weeks, something really important came up and-"

"Apologies accepted. You can leave now." I cut in flatly, not wanting to hear any of it. I've heard enough apologies in a few months for a life-time.

I start walking past him to get to the elevator, but he gets ahold of my wrist before I can reach it, "Cleo-"

A whimper leaves my lips.

A very loud one, because he just pressed his thumb on my wrist that's one of the most painful places on my body at the moment.

His expression shifts in concern, then confusion, and the only thing I can do is look, and look, and look at the hand that's holding my wrist. I can't take it. I can't fucking take a man's hand on my body anymore.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you ?" Ellis starts to worriedly move his fingers up my forearm, and my heartbeat furiously picks up when he starts reaching for my sleeve to look at the injury underneath.

I immediately snatch my hand away from his grasp, and bring my hand to my chest.

The beautiful man blinks a few times, seemingly both hurt and angry. Then he looks down at my wrist that's clutched to my chest, as if I'm trying to protect it, and I see his gaze immediately darken.

He cannot know. He can't know. He will never know.

After moments of awkward silence, he finally clears his throat, "Are you okay ?" I can feel a new edge go his voice, like he's suspecting something bad.

I don't meet his eyes, even if I feel them burning wholes through me. "Yeah, I'm fine, thank you for your concern. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to attend to."

This time, he doesn't stop me when I walk all the way to the elevator, and click on the button.

We are both silent, and I can still feel his burning gaze in my back. When the elevator arrives, I am forced to turn around and face him to click on the button that leads to the other floors.

He has a weird look on his face. As if he's considering something, or resolving an enigma. When his hazel eyes lock with my brown ones, a second before the doors close, I see all the determination they hold.

Ellis Chase is not giving up on me.

Little does he know I've already given up on myself.

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I hear the doorknob turn, and it all comes rushing.

The unshakable fear, followed by the apprehension of his mood.

Will he be drunk ? Will he bring his friends ? Will he be angry ?

"Babe ?" I hear, and my body locks up. He doesn't sound drunk, but his tone is urgent. I know what that means.

The room's door opens, I can't see it because my back is to it, but I know he's here.

I force a smile on my face, then slowly turn to him.

His dark eyes are bloodshot. He's high.

I try not to let my hands tremble too much.

"Hi." I say.

Chadwick immediately smiles back, and starts walking towards me in big steps. "You can't imagine how much I've been thinking about you today. I need you, baby."

My heart lurches all the way up to my throat.

No, not today.

He tries to take ahold of my face, but I instinctively pull away. I see how his face contorts in anger. My heart skips a beat. I try to arrange it by putting my palms on his cheeks, and pressing a kiss to his lips. He instantly moves to deepen it until it hurts, and groans. I try to zone out and block the thoughts running in my mind.

You're disgusting. You're weak.You deserve this.

I wince in pain when he fists my hair in his hands and pulls it. Hard.

I release a deep breath when he pulls away.

"I'm sorry, Chad. I can't today. I'm on my period." I lie.

The anger is back again, and the hand in my hair fists it again. I whimper, when he pulls my ear to his mouth.

"You think you're better than me, huh ? Giving me a taste, then walk away." He breaths against my ear.

Nausea rushes through me. My heart is beating so hard it might burst out of my chest.

"No. You know I don't, baby. I'm sorry." I say through the lump in my throat.

His hands relaxes a bit but he doesn't release my hair.

"I- I can please you in other ways, if you'd like." I propose, hoping he'll say no and walk out of the room, but I know better.

I put my hands back on his cheeks, and press kisses on his lips.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm sorry, Chad." It comes out strangled because of my sobs, but he finally loosens his grip on my hair.

He kisses me back.

"Alright. I forgive you baby. Now be a good girl and get on your knees for me."

I wish I was dead.