Unraveled

Chapter 1 - New Beginnings

The rain hasn't let up since I got off the train, pounding the city like it's trying to wash away all the dirt and grime.

I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the taxi window, watching the neon lights smear across the dark streets like watercolors running together.

Everything feels so foreign, so detached. I chose this city because it's big enough to lose myself in—big enough that he won't find me.

The cabbie navigates through the endless maze of streets, and I pull my leather jacket tighter around me, hoping to ward off the chill that has nothing to do with the rain.

The jacket is old, a relic from another life, and the familiar weight of it grounds me. It's one of the few things I managed to grab when I left. The few things that were still mine.

The city's pulse quickens as we move deeper into its heart. The streets are alive with people and noise, a cacophony that drowns out the thoughts in my head. I try to focus on the buildings, the flashing signs, anything but the memories that won't stop clawing their way back to the surface. But they come anyway.

I see his face in every shadow, hear his voice in the back of my mind, whispering that I'll never really escape him.

The bruises he left have faded, but the scars run deeper than skin. I shiver, running a hand through my tangled dark brown hair, trying to shake off the sensation of his hands on me, his voice in my ear, telling me what I am—what I'll always be.

"We're almost there," the driver says, his eyes flicking up to meet mine in the rearview mirror. There's a hint of curiosity in his voice, but he doesn't push it. He doesn't ask why a girl like me would end up in a neighborhood like this.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Thanks."

He turns his attention back to the road as the taxi slows, pulling up in front of a narrow building wedged between two old warehouses. It's nothing special—just another anonymous brick facade in a sea of them—but it's exactly what I need. A place where I can disappear, where no one will know me or ask questions.

I fish out a crumpled bill from my pocket and hand it to him. "Keep the change."

"Thanks, miss," he says, his tone softening. "Take care."

The words hang in the air, and for a second, I feel the urge to ask him to wait, to drive me somewhere—anywhere—else. But I know that's just the fear talking, the part of me that's still trapped in his grip. I can't keep running forever.

I step out of the cab, the rain instantly soaking through my clothes. It's cold, biting at my skin as I grab my worn backpack from the seat and slam the door shut. The driver lingers for a moment, watching me through the rearview mirror before he pulls away, leaving me alone on the empty street.

I stand there for a moment, staring up at the building. It looms over me, its dark windows like empty eyes. I take a deep breath and head inside, pushing open the heavy door. It creaks loudly, echoing through the dimly lit lobby, where a single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the peeling wallpaper.

The smell hits me first—stale cigarette smoke and mildew, the scent of forgotten lives. This place is a far cry from the sterile luxury of the apartment I left behind, but it's perfect. Here, I can be invisible.

I find the stairs at the back of the lobby and start climbing, my boots thudding against the worn steps. The apartment is on the third floor, small and sparsely furnished—exactly what I need. Just four walls, a bed, and a lock on the door. The walls are bare, the furniture old and mismatched, but there's a sense of safety in the simplicity. I drop my backpack on the floor and collapse onto the mattress, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

My mind drifts as I lie there, the events of the past few weeks playing out in a chaotic loop. It wasn't supposed to end like this. I was supposed to have it all—a promising career, a loving boyfriend, a future that stretched out like a golden road ahead of me. But that road had twisted into something dark and narrow, a path I never saw coming until it was too late.

His name was Ryan.

The kind of guy who made heads turn when he walked into a room. Tall, confident, with a smile that could charm anyone. He swept me off my feet from the moment we met. For a while, I was the happiest I'd ever been, caught up in the whirlwind of his attention, his affection. But slowly, things began to change. Little things at first—a sharp word, a hand gripping my arm just a bit too tight. I told myself it was nothing, that he was just stressed, that I was overreacting.

But the excuses couldn't cover the bruises that started to appear, the way he isolated me from friends and family, how he twisted my words, made me doubt myself until I didn't know what was real anymore.

The Ryan I fell in love with had vanished, replaced by someone cruel, someone I didn't recognize. And yet, I stayed. I kept hoping the man I loved would come back.

The last time was different. It wasn't just a slap or a shove; it was something much worse. I saw the look in his eyes, the sheer rage, and I knew then that if I didn't leave, I wouldn't survive the next time. So I packed a bag in the dead of night, took what little money I had, and ran. Ran until I couldn't run anymore, until I found myself here, in a city that doesn't care who I am or where I came from.

I close my eyes, willing the memories to stop. I'm here now. I'm safe. But the fear lingers, a shadow I can't shake. I wonder how long it will be before he finds me, before he drags me back to the life I fought so hard to escape.

The rain outside continues to beat against the window, a constant, rhythmic sound that drowns out everything else. In this city, in this place, I can be anyone—or no one. And maybe, just maybe, that's exactly what I need.

But as I drift off to sleep, the image of Ryan's face haunts me, his voice whispering in my ear, promising that it's not over. It's never over. And for the first time since I arrived, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to outrun him.