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Trigger Warning:
Scenes may be emotionally triggering for some individuals. If you or someone you know is experiencing abuse, please seek help through professional resources in your area.
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Evelyn's POV
“Bitch, how dare you lie to me!”
And with that, he slapped me—so hard I hit the floor.
“No! I’m not lying to you, please—stop hitting me! It hurts!” I cried, struggling to rise.
Before I could get to my knees, his boot crashed into my shoulder, sending me down again. Then came the kicks—one after another, each one smashing into my stomach. I screamed in pain.
“Oh, now you’re arguing with me? It hurts?” he snarled. “You think that’s pain? “Today I’II show you what real pain looks like.”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me toward the bathroom. I screamed, my nails clawing at the floor. He threw me into the tub, cold porcelain hitting my spine, and shoved my head under the water.
I thrashed, bubbles rising around me. My lungs screamed for air. Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. I was dying. I could feel it.
Then—
I woke up.
My body jolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat. I gasped for air, my chest heaving like my heart was trying to escape it. For a second, I didn’t know if I was still drowning or if I’d finally broken free.
I clutched my throat. The pressure—God, I could still feel it.
Sunlight poured through the wall-sized window across from my bed, flooding the room in golden light. It cut through the haze like a lifeline, trying to pull me back to the present.
I let myself fall slowly back into the sheets.
Breathe. In. Out.
Minutes passed. My heartbeat, once a wild drum, began to steady.
I reached for the glass of water on my nightstand and took a long, shaky sip. Then I forced myself up, legs heavy, and stumbled into the bathroom.
Cold water splashed against my face. I stared at the woman in the mirror.
Gray hair framed my face, still damp with sweat. My blue eyes—once bright—looked hollow. Haunted.
“When will these nightmares stop?” I whispered.
My voice sounded empty, like it belonged to someone else.
“I didn’t want to remember.”
“I didn’t want to feel it anymore.”
Suddenly, my phone started to ring.
I left the washroom, wiping my hands on a towel. The screen lit up.
Mom.
I picked up the phone and pressed it to my ear.
YOU ARE READING
Untold Story
Любовные романыI never planned on coming to that town. It was supposed to be a simple assignment-one story, a few interviews, and I'd be back in the city before the week was over. But nothing about what happened next was simple. The town was small, almost forgotte...
