The Space Between

Chapter 1 : Now or Never

If she didn't leave now, she never would. Keys in her hand, heart pounding, she checked again Dominic was still passed out on the couch. It was game night, and his favorite team had lost. All she had to do was turn the knob, step through the door, and she'd be free.

The bus leaves at 7. She had 15 minutes to make it, speed-walking through the brisk, eerie streets. The cold air bit at her skin, and the city, unusually quiet for a Friday night, felt like it was holding its breath alongside her. She had already walked five miles to get here, too afraid to wait at the bus stop near home too afraid he might see her. Her fists were clenched, her throat swollen with the weight of everything she hadn't said.

She arrived just in time, waving the bus down before it could pull away without her. Climbing aboard, she found an empty seat and sank into it, surrounded by strangers carrying stories of their own. As the bus rumbled forward, she looked down at her belly and held it gently, wondering what story her little one would tell one day. For the first time in what felt like years, she exhaled deeply, as if she'd been holding her breath forever.

This was it. There was no going back. She had to survive.

Then, the hum of the bus faded, replaced by the scrape of cold sheets. Her heart sank. She blinked and found herself back in the same house, in the same bed, with the same man.

She hadn't walked five miles. She hadn't waved the bus driver down. She hadn't found that moment of freedom.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and started making breakfast.

"Melanie." His voice dragged through the air from the bedroom, heavy with irritation. Her body stiffened, clutching the napkin in her hand tighter. She made her way toward the bedroom, dread curling inside her like a second heartbeat.

Dominic's eyes pinned her the moment she stepped inside. "Why didn't you wash my work clothes?" His tone was calm, but each word carried a sharp edge. "You know today's important. Are you trying to ruin this for me?"

Her head hung low. "I forgot," she muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Dominic scoffed, waving her off like she was nothing more than a nuisance. She turned quietly, heading down the hall, but she knew this wasn't over. It was never that easy.

She'd only taken two steps when the sharp crash of shattering glass stopped her cold. Fear shot through her like a bolt, rooting her in place. She stood frozen, breath shallow, every muscle locked.

Then came the yank his hands twisting viciously into her hair, jerking her backward. She cried out as he flung her into the room like a rag doll.

The pain dulled, numbed by the familiar haze that wrapped around her mind like a blanket. She drifted into a daydream, the way she always did when it got like this. This isn't real. This will all be over soon, she told herself, clutching desperately to the lie.

Dominic loomed over her for a moment, breathing heavy, as if waiting to see if she'd dare to move. When she didn't, he swayed, grabbing his clothes from the bed and stumbling toward the door. The slam of it echoed through the apartment, a sound both terrifying and relieving.

She lay there for a while, too hollow to cry. Tears didn't come anymore not after everything. The numbness stretched across her chest, heavy and suffocating. But it was over. At least for now. Dominic had left for work, and she was alone.

Her hand instinctively found her stomach, resting on the place where life once grew. The ache was quiet but persistent, a reminder of what she had lost. She used to dream of baby names, imagining soft blankets and tiny hands grasping hers. But those dreams were gone, ripped away before they could become real.

And yet, she told herself, it was for the best. A child shouldn't have to live like this. It would have been selfish to bring one into this world, into this life. That's what she told herself every day. But the sadness still lingered, curling in the corners of her mind like smoke that wouldn't clear.

It hadn't always been like this. When she first met Dominic, he was a different person or maybe she was. He hadn't been doing well, crashing on a friend's couch, lost and uncertain. Melanie hadn't thought much of him at first. She wasn't interested, not really. But that night, when she got home, he sent her a message on Facebook: You're beautiful.

At first, she ignored him. But the messages kept coming simple compliments, little check-ins and she brushed them off until, one day, they stopped. And that's when she realized: she missed them. She liked the attention. She craved it. It made her feel good, as if someone finally saw her.

And so it began one small response, a single message that spiraled into everything that came after.