Maia is head over heels in love with her abusive boyfriend Jake. She's risked everything for him. Her family, friends, home, even her own identity. But when she meets Oliver, a mysterious, famous gymnast, she begins to realise what it's really like...
A painful loud noise of birds singing outside my room ached my strangely sore ears. My eyes could barely open wide, and even keeping them open hurt.
What day is it? Where am I?
In a panic, I quickly sat up despite the pain it gave me and checked my surroundings. I was in mine and Jake's bed... but Jake was no where to be seen.
Suddenly, I remembered.
It must be the morning after. Jake's probably in school, why would he care to look after me at home? He has other priorities, like manipulating that model of a girl into thinking that he's a good guy who treats her right. Yeah, he may be treating her nicely right now. But if they ever start properly dating, in two years or so she'll see beneath his beautiful exterior and into his true colours and cold heart.
A buzz vibrated my phone presenting a message sent to me from Oliver. Oliver's name on my phone was labelled as "Amelia" so that if Jake saw any messages he wouldn't freak out, and instead would think it was a friend.
Please pick up, I'm worried.
My heart raced when I saw that I had 18 messages and 23 missed calls from Oliver, who had been trying to get a hold of me for hours. I called him instantly, desperately pleading to hear his voice. I didn't even care if Jake was at home. I just needed to know that Oliver was okay himself and that Jake didn't hurt him as well, in concern that the reason I came home so late was because of him. But what can I say, it was only 12pm, Jake could easily hurt Oliver after school if he wanted to. Although Oliver is strong himself, Jake isn't weak in the slightest, and I've seen him get into extreme fights and win.
"Sorry for picking up so late, I had to leave class and say it was urgent." His voice sounded frail, as though he had just found out devastating news. "Are you ok? I'm so fucking sorry for last night, I couldn't get my mind off it, I wouldn't ever want you-"
"Oliver I'm fine." It was a lie, obviously.
"Why aren't you in school?"
"Are you crying?"
I heard Oliver swear under his breath and then let out a sigh. A selfish smile stretched my lips and squished my flushed cheeks. Although my heart ached for Oliver's sadness, I felt happiness in the fact that he clearly cares for me so deeply. But unfortunately, all this did was make my feelings for him more deep and passionate.
"Jake's in school and I'm going home." He told me, ignoring my question. "Come to mine now before school ends, I'll text you my address."
"I look like a mess, can we do this another-"
"Do you really think I care? Look, I really need to go but please be there as soon as possible." He then ended the call without a goodbye, causing me to stay sitting down in panic over the thought of the bruises and cuts that were covering my face. This is going to take a lot of makeup to cover up.
I looked into the mirror and felt my heart drop. My eyes were puffy and bruised, my lip had been badly busted, and I had a painful cut on my cheek which had turned into a scab. I knew that makeup wasn't going to be able to cover up these injuries, and that I was going to have to miss a lot of school. However, the thought of seeing Oliver was too overwhelming and exciting that I felt as though I had no choice but to see him. It was like being my 14 year old innocent self all over again, when I fell in love for the first time.
After making myself look pretty for over an hour, I opened the door of my house and took a step outside. I've never gone outside after getting beaten up. I felt rebellious and immature. I was being unloyal to Jake, I was going against his rules, I was doing something I knew I shouldn't do. Yet that made me feel a certain way... I felt confident and eager. It was like I was back home and sneaking out with my friends to go to a party, something I used to do way too often when I had control over my own life.
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"You've got this." I encouraged myself, rubbing my shoulder and pretending I was my mum. She'd always rub my shoulder when comforting me or giving me the confidence to do something. Sometimes I hold my own hand and pretend it's my mums, or play with my hair and close my eyes, pretending that my mum was with me and putting my hair into plaits before I went off to school to see all my friends.
I then jumped into my car, typed in Oliver's address into my satnav and made my way towards his home.
