If You Met Me First

Storm Warning

**Trigger Warning- Abuse. This story is something new for me. I am not familiar with writing in abuse. It will be sprinkled in throughout. There will also be sexual content. Please skip through or do not read if that is something you do not like or is a trigger. Otherwise, enjoy!

The pouring rain beat down on the black pavement, making it hard to distinguish where one lane ended and the other began. Fog hiding the beauty of the pine trees, like it held the best kept secret in town. The wipers of her white Chevy Tahoe going the same speed she was driving, both on a mission. The music turned way up as she navigated those back roads like every time before. A pair of headlights coming up behind her, cutting through the thick, dense fog. Her heart began to race, unable to make out the model and color of the vehicle. The opening coming up on her left, revealing an iron and wood gate brought on some sort reprieve. She turned in, quickly punching in the code with deft fingers. She peered in her rear view as the car drove passed, a sigh of fleeting relief leaving her chapped lips. The gates opened to a one car wide cement driveway that wound through the wooded area on both sides. She continued down the path at an alarming rate, pulling up in front of the dark brown double garage doors. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she pushed her shoulder length brown and caramel colored hair out of her sweet honey brown eyes and jogged to the front door like she was still running from the car that drove on by. She hopped the stone steps of the front porch, landing right in front of the big oak doors. She pounded on them like her life depended on it. 

A figure appeared after a few seconds, walking through the dimly lit living room. As they got closer, she could see the muscles of their shirtless body move with every step. She bit her lip, waiting in anticipation. The brushed nickel door knob turned, creating an opening just large enough for her to slip in through. She brushed another piece of hair away from her pale complexion. Her eyes meeting his bright green ones. She moved slightly, trying to cower away, but his large, rough hand came up and brushed her cheek. She winced, looking away again. 

"Oh, Annie girl. What did he do this time?" His low voice rumbled through the room, causing her to jump at the sound. 

She shied away, shaking her head. "Nothing. Just caught my cheek." 

But he knew better than that. The fading bruises on her hips and arms were a testament to that. He stepped in front of her, both hands on her arms. The smell of cedar and cigar smoke mixing around them. 

"Aniston." He replied, a little softer this time. She lifted her head. That's when he caught a glimpse of the busted lip to match the cheek. His eyes scanned down further, landing on her neck. He ran a hand across the deep bruise forming around it. His green eyes looking up at her. 

"Please, B." She began to plead. "Please don't lose your temper. I just want to stay the night." 

He swallowed, trying not to lose his shit. This was the third time in the last two weeks she came pounding on his door. And every time she pleaded for him not to do anything. He told her the next time she showed up with so little as a paper cut from him and he would find him and make him wish he was already dead. 

He saw the tears threatening to fall from her honey colored eyes, forcing him to hang his head. "Fine. The fucker is lucky to see another day. But I promise you, Annie girl, I will stomp his ass the next time I see you like this." 

"Thank you, Brantley." Aniston's light pink lips curled in to a smile. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek as she walked toward the stairs with her bag still hung over her shoulder. She turned around to eye Brantley as he locked the front door. 

"Amber's not here. You can go to my room." He said as she searched his face for answers. 

Aniston nodded her head and made her way up to the master bedroom, ready to let sleep take over her tired and beaten body.