His Ruthless Revenge (A Dark Bully Romance)

Prologue

I stare up at the bedroom ceiling, my eyes swimming with tears as I try to conceal my sobs from the lying bastard sleeping beside me.
He's completely oblivious; sleeping soundly while my heart is literally breaking beside him.

How?
How could he?
How could he do this to me?

I inhale slowly, trying to gather all of my strength as I clench my fists tightly. I can't lose it now. I cannot lose control. I must keep it together.
I keep repeating this mantra to myself as I climb out of bed, walking on my tip-toes so I don't wake him. He'll know something's wrong if he sees me like this and I don't think I have it in me to lie to him right now.

I'm too fucking angry.

I manage to sneak out of the bedroom, trembling with rage, fury, hatred and pure contempt.

I hate him.

I absolutely fucking hate him.

I clench my teeth to stop myself from screaming, forcing one foot in front of the other until I reach the top of the stairs. I consider throwing myself down it for a split second, chastising myself as soon as the thought enters my head. What the hell am I thinking? Am I really going to throw my life away for a lying, cheating piece of shit like him?

Not a chance.

I'm not sure how I manage it but I somehow make it downstairs, breathing a sigh of relief now I've put some distance between us.
Maybe now I can think clearly. Maybe now I can process a single thought without wanting to seriously hurt him.
My hand reaches for the kitchen light but I hesitate, hovering over the light switch while I decide what to do next. He might hear me if I start banging around in the kitchen, slamming my coffee mug on the counter and stomping around.
Most people would turn to alcohol at a time like this. Relying on it to numb their pain or banish their unwanted thoughts but not me. I don't drink and I don't intend to start now. That son of a bitch has taken too much from me already.
Ok, maybe I'm being a bit over dramatic. It's not like I'm a recovering addict or anything. I've never smoked, drank alcohol or taken drugs in my entire life and that's why I refuse to feel compelled to do so right now.

I can't let him win. Not this time.

I bury my face in my hands, taking a seat at the kitchen table as I finally begin to cry silently. It's incredibly difficult to keep quiet when all I want to do is give into my pain. All I want to do is scream, shout, yell and weep until this agonising and excruciating torment is expelled from my body.

Except I can't.

God, I need to punch something. I need to physically hurt something so badly. My whole body is trembling with it.
I never understood why Chase got such a thrill out of punching something. I never understood how sparring in a boxing ring or getting into a physical fight could actually make you feel better. Until now.

My silent weeping eventually comes to an end and I'm left a snivelling, quivering, tear-stained mess. God, I hate myself for being so pathetic. I hate myself for not having the self respect to march upstairs, wake him up and demand he leave the house forever.
Don't get me wrong, a huge part of me wants to react right now. Every instinct in my body is urging me to pack a bag and leave so I can enjoy the fact that he'll wake up tomorrow morning and find out that I've left him.

He made me promise him when we were teenagers that I'd never leave him and I never planned to. It's just too bad that he didn't keep any of his promises to me.
I drag my fingers through my tangled hair in exasperation and honestly still don't understand it. I can't believe that Chase would actually do this to me. The one person in my life I trusted above anyone else.
Why? Why would he do this? It makes absolutely no sense but I need to find out the truth before confronting him. I need to figure this out in my own head before I even think about hurting him.