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Ninety

Tessa walked the red carpet trailing to the old mansion, Charles by her side. The cameras flashed, what felt like a million lights snapping all at once, trying to blind them. Charles gripped her waist tighter, the two of them entering the large building and leaving the dizzying cameras behind.

"Look at this place," Tessa breathed, eyes roaming the luxurious entrance parlour, with marble columns sprawled along the walls and a low hanging chandelier, diamonds glistening on each prong, in the centre of the ceiling.

"It is very beautiful," Charles admitted, glancing around at the people-filled entrance. "But not as beautiful as you."

Theresa blushed, a rosy red staining her cheeks. "Really Charles?"

The Ferrari driver shrugged, smirking. "Sorry mon amour. I couldn't help it."

Tessa rolled her eyes but there was a smile on her face as she led her boyfriend further into the house, entering the ballroom- because of course they have a ballroom- and walking into the fray of people. Left and right there was someone important, some philanthropist or athlete, lawyer or Hollywood star, all milling about, mingling with one another, champagne glass in hand.

Charles got them two glasses from a passing waiter, handing one to Tessa. She thanked him and took a sip, her eyes idly scanning the crowd of people when...

Her heart dropped.

It fucking dropped, as did her stomach, both falling in one low swoop leaving her dizzy and nauseous.

"Tessie?" Charles asked quietly, noticing the sudden shift in her mood. "What is it?"

But the girl couldn't tear her eyes away from the man she'd spotted in the crowd. The one with beach blonde hair she'd stroked her fingers through a million times. With the ocean blue eyes she fell in love with, that were soft one minute and hard the next. And the hands that had held her once and hurt her in equal measure.

Theresa stared at Cameron Larson, the man of her dreams at one point and the man of her nightmares at another, and she was assaulted with memories. Memories of skin on skin, mouths on mouths. Memories of bruises blemishing her body, of the soul crushing fear that seemed to drown her whenever she so much as thought of the supposed love of her life.

"Tessa? Theresa?" Charles moved in front of her, blocking her ex boyfriend from view, forcing her to look at her actual boyfriend. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Theresa opened her mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. She didn't know what to say, what to do. She couldn't even believe he was here. She hadn't even seen him since the night they broke up.

It was raining. That was all Theresa could think of as she stumbled through the empty street, sobbing, shaking. She was supposed to be meeting Olivia at the park near her house, but everything looked the same in the dark, and with the raindrops blurring her vision she was afraid she was lost.

Pain lanced through her with every step, a limp in her walk. She could hear his shouts, feel his anger, the shove of his hands, the free falling as she fell down the stairs. The fear as she crashed into the glass table, narrowly avoiding getting impaled by the broken shards. Even so there was a cut across her brow that had bled significantly, staining the side of her face crimson, her hair plastered there.

She limped towards the park, relief blooming in her chest when she spotted a figure waiting there. Olivia had come. Theresa was safe. They'd figure out what to do. All she knew now was that it was over. She had come too close to death. Cam had nearly killed her. What was stopping him from actually doing it?

Yet as she continued walking, Theresa realised something was wrong. Very wrong. The figure was too tall, too bulky. The posture was too stiff. Too late, she recognized who the figure actually was.