His Ballerina

Chapter One

For years, Annabeth Williams had been neglected and mistreated by everyone she had ever known, persuing her career as a profesional ballerina, she feels as if for once, she is on top of the world.

But, once the mysterious Brent James moves in as her roomate, things begin to change.

Annabeth does the one thing she had refused to do her entire life.

Fall in love.

But Brent has a secret, a dark one, and if he keeps it Annabeths world may begin to crumble once more...

CHAPTER ONE

"Get, out!" Annabeth yelled, pushing him as hard as she possibly could, at the door.

"Come on..." the man said, waving a beer bottle, "jus 'un kisss..." at the end of the sentence he threw himself again at Annabeth, resulting in his head hitting the door.

"Ow!" He hollered, rubbing the sore spot.

Annabeth saw this as an opportunity, grabbing a chunk of his hair, she forced him out of the apartment, throwing his suitcase out with him.

"Slut!" He huffed as she slammed the door in his face.

Annabeth turned and rested her back against the door, allowing herself to slowly slide down. 

"Jerk." She whispered, bringing her knees up to her chin. 

A small tear released itself from her eye, she rubbed it away.

The day had started out so well, Heath had a hangover, as usual. But she had always cared about him, always accepted his lies about late nights before, always got him medication for migranes and headaches.

He had never returned the smallest ounce of affection, he did pay a large percentage of her rent, though.

But, he had never tried anything on her, not until today. She had come home from the studio to the sickening smell of alcohol. 

He was in the kitchen, a knife in hand, he had lunged at Annabeth, wedging the knife inbetween some boards in the wall.

Then, Annabeth had begun forcing him out of the house.

He'd slumped in the doorway while she'd packed his things. She'd been of guard when he'd pounced on her.

Annabeth looked at her hands. They were bruised and cut, the bottle he had smashed on them had done their job.

She got up and washed her hands, soaking them in ice cold water, watching the thin ribbons of blood string off them.

Then, shivering, she stripped out of her clothes, too tired to get dressed, and climbed into bed.

Wanting more than anything to forget today...

She answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Yeah," I deep voice answered, "is this Annabeth Williams?"

"Yes." She answered.

"I'm here to make an inquiry about the room in your apartment.

"Uh," her heart leapt, "okay, hold on a sec."

She rushed about the room grabbing a pen and some paper.

"Name?" She asked, positioning herself at her desk.

"Brent James."

"Martial status?"