Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
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Third Year September 2nd 2002.
Me and Connor had been doing well the last few months. We were happy, I mean—mostly. Sometimes, he had his moments where things got heated, ending with me holding a bag of cold peas to my face, but it was always by accident. He didn't mean to. He always apologized afterward, buying me roses, saying all the right things to make it better.
It's not his fault. He's in fifth year now, and with all the pressure he's under, I guess it's normal for him to be stressed.
I mean—on my fifteenth birthday, we argued because he said my outfit was too short. And, okay, maybe it was a little; it went just above my knee. But he got upset, told me I had to wear something more covering. I didn't want to fight, so I changed, but when I moved too quickly, he grabbed me, and it left a bruise on my neck.
He didn't mean to. He was just looking out for me, right?
Tonight, I was going over to Connor's parents' house for dinner. They'd invited me over, so here I was, standing by the door, waiting for him to pick me up. My nerves were already on edge. His dad was fine, but his mam... well, she never seemed to like me, and I didn't need to give her more reasons.
My outfit was simple—a black dress, a small necklace, and my hair curled, trying to look as put-together as possible. I glanced at the clock again. He was already ten minutes late. My chest tightened. I hated the thought of being even later, making them think I didn't care.
Finally, I heard the familiar rumble of Connor's car pulling up outside. I breathed a sigh of relief, but when he stepped out, my stomach dropped. His clothes were smart, the usual button-up shirt and slacks, but he looked disheveled—hair a mess, breathing hard like he'd sprinted here instead of driving.
I opened the door before he could even knock. "Connor, you're late," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. I didn't need any more reasons for his mam to think I wasn't good enough.
"I know," he replied, slightly out of breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm sorry. Traffic was insane, and I—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Look, let's just go. We're not that late."
I studied him for a second, feeling a knot of unease twist in my stomach. Something was off, but I forced a smile anyway. Tonight needed to go right.
——————————————————
"You're finally here," Mrs. O'Neill—Emily—said as she opened the door, her eyes immediately raking over me from head to toe, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Yeah—sorry, ma. She takes ages to get changed," Connor said, giving his mother a quick side hug, not even looking at me as he threw me under the bus.
That dick.
"No offense, Blair, but the dress is very... revealing," she added, her disapproval clear as her gaze lingered on the hem of my dress.
