𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍|𝟏𝟖+

chapter one

TALIA

The world looked so different from up here. I gazed at the stars until my eyes grew heavy, and darkness enveloped my vision. Perched on the rooftop of my building, I sat on the ledge, alternating my focus between the bustling street below and the stars above.

I tapped the replay button on my phone, immersing myself in the haunting melody of 'listen before I go' by Billie Eilish. That song became my constant companion, repeatedly echoing in my ears. It resonated with me on a profound level, as if it held a piece of my soul within. And I didn't want that feeling to fade away.

One particular line from the song stood out to me, 'Tell me, love is endless, don't be so pretentious.' Every time I found myself on this rooftop, it felt like my breath caught, just like in the song. It was a longing I had carried for so long, seemingly since forever. Yet, something always held me back from pursuing what I truly desired. But there was a glimmer of hope.

The stars.

Looking up at them, a thought crossed my mind - what if I was causing harm to one of those very stars? What if they were watching me, urging me with silent voices: Don't do it. Love yourself. Be patient. There's hope.

There was that internal voice, a constant companion whenever I set foot on this rooftop, encouraging me to find strength within myself, to recognize my worth, to acknowledge that I am beautiful and loved. Sometimes, I wished I could escape from it all, but my heart wouldn't allow it, even if the stars-or the voices-suggested otherwise. I couldn't.

Despite everything he put me through -the tears, the headaches, the bruises -I loved him too much. Sometimes, I wished we never learned to fight, but then again, it was an integral part of who we were. Each time I came up here, those same voices questioned me: If there were five more minutes of air, would you panic and hide, or would you simply stand there and do absolutely nothing?

And my response to that question remained the same every time: I would stand there and do absolutely nothing. Love and lies entwined with bruises, tears, and heartbreak. Each occurrence left me believing I was the cause of it all, and for the longest time, I held onto that belief. I still do.

Amidst the ringing of my phone, I halted the music and answered the call. It was Chris. "Yes, Chris?" I replied, my voice a mere whisper. He paused, sensing that I might be in a place I shouldn't be.

"Why are you back on that roof? I told you it wasn't safe, and you could fall," he said through the phone. Gathering my belongings, I stepped away from the ledge onto the rooftop.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I'm off the ledge; I'll be down in five," I reassured him before ending the call. Licking my dry lips and running my hand through my long blonde hair, I realized I had been crying. I glanced at my reflection in the phone's camera app and wiped away the tears, trying to compose myself. With my eyes still wet, I made my way downstairs to the elevator in my apartment building. Upon reaching my apartment, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. I cautiously opened it, and to my relief, I heard laughter and shouting from inside. Chris had friends over, and that always made him a better version of himself-the old Chris.

I left my purse on the kitchen island and peeked into the living room, where Chris and his two friends were enjoying a football game and beers. Breathing a sigh of relief, I opened the fridge and poured myself some apple juice.

"I've missed you," a voice filled my ear, and I froze. Chris had his hands on my arms and kissed my neck. I licked my lips, trying to steady my breath, and turned to face him, placing the glass in the sink.

"I missed you too, Chris," I managed to reply with a smile. His gaze lingered on something, and I noticed he kissed the bruise he caused earlier that day. "Let's not talk about what happened this morning, and forget it ever happened," he suggested, meeting my eyes.

Nodding and offering a smile, I agreed to put it behind us. Chris smiled and kissed my cheek before returning to the living room. Hurrying to our bedroom, I locked the door behind me and finally took in the deep breath I had been yearning for since he was near me. As I closed my eyes, memories of what happened earlier that day flooded my mind. I woke up early that morning for yet another job interview. Having lost my last job due to constant excuses for absences caused by headaches and bruises, I was determined to secure a new job.

I was actually happy this morning, -in a good mood for the first time in three years. It had been exactly six months since I last worked, and I craved an escape from the house and from Chris. I made sure to get ready quietly in the bathroom, so as not to disturb Chris's sleep and avoid his questioning.

But he woke up.

"Where are you going?" were his exact words, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and scrutinizing me through the mirror.

"I have a job interview at the new club that just opened up," I explained, sensing his displeasure.

I was already anxious, fearing he might explode or, worse, raise his hand against me. However, at that moment, he didn't. "I told you that you don't have to work. I have a steady job. All you need to do is cook and make me happy," he said, coming up behind me and holding my waist. I looked at him through the mirror, and he returned the gaze. "Chris, I told you. That's not what I want to do. That's not who I am," I spoke softly.

But it seemed to trigger something in him, as he let go of my waist and grabbed a handful of my hair.

He tilted his head, and I saw terror and tears reflected in my eyes through the mirror. "Why do you have to be such a little bratty bitch sometimes?" he sneered. Those words cut deeply. I won't go into the details of what happened next, but he left me with a painful "gift" on my arm, as I sarcastically called it. For the next fifteen minutes, I sat in the bathroom, crying until he returned and apologized-he apologized so many times. And, of course, I forgave him. We hugged, we kissed, we laughed, and we moved past it.

We've all had our monsters. We've had them since we were kids. Sometimes they were under the bed, in the closet, and next, they were right there with you, right next to you. My monster wasn't always a monster. He was once loving, kind, and caring. And I loved him, and even through it all I still did.