As The Pages Burn

Chapter 1

Angela Wilkes felt a tear escape her primarily strong resolve, whilst pondering over events better left unsaid. She sat alone in the twilight on her front porch, smoking a cigarette. This was a habit she'd picked up a few years back and knew by then to keep it well hidden. Roger would not be happy if he knew she'd been smoking again. 

She felt the familiar tugging at her heartstrings as she thought of their relationship so far. They'd met each other in Science class when they were both thirteen, laughing at their teacher's pointy nose and oval glasses. They'd gotten detention for that, and that's where they got to know each other. Three years later, they started dating each other. As soon as they were both eighteen and upon finishing their last school semester, they both got jobs and moved in together. 

They had been living together for five years before Angela felt Roger getting sick of her.

She'd been sitting on that porch for three hours now – as was the routine every Friday night – ready to welcome her fiancé home with open arms. Three hours after his shift at the gas station had ended. It was already nine P.M.; she saw as she glanced at her cellphone's lock screen. She knew by now all too well what that meant; he'd be coming home late again. He'd be coming home late with vodka on his breath and another bottle under his arm, driving his old pickup better than any intoxicated person would ever be able to.

She herself had grown up in a toxic environment, her parents always bickering. Her father had always been a drunk, taking his frustrations out on her mother who, in turn, always cowered in the corner and took her beatings without ever trying to stand up for herself.

She felt disappointed in herself for making the same mistakes as her mother had, who was now buried in the cemetery down the road, fed up with the stress my father had put her through, so she took the easy way out. Her father had never been known for being able to hold his liquor very well. Her mother had been dead four years now, and Angela still missed their daily phone calls. She missed hearing her mother's voice, missed all the times they had talked for hours into the night about anything that came up.

She also missed her friends, who had supported her as much as they could have before they, too, gave up on her. She'd had a really good job, working as a receptionist at a doctor's office. It seemed that too many sleepless, stress-filled nights caused her to lose her focus, leading to incorrect filing of important documents, which landed her in trouble with the boss more times than she'd wanted to admit.

Angela took out her cellphone once more and scrolled through her contacts list, finding the only friend who hadn't abandoned her yet, who was still rooting for her. She dialed his number and before the first ring had even ended, she heard him answer on the other end.

"Hey, honey," his voice as friendly and sexy as ever, Lucas had always been her rock of salvation.

"Hey," she said, her voice breaking just a bit, revealing the dread she felt into her very soul.

"Are you alright? You sound like you've been crying." She could hear the concern in his voice and groaned inwardly; she hated being a burden to anyone.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her voice betraying her once again. She lightly traced the bruises that had begun to darken on her thighs. Her voice trembled with fear as she spoke into the phone again. "He's been drinking again. I just needed to call to let you know. If anything happens to me, you'll know what to say to everyone."

"Wait, if he's as far gone as I think he is, you shouldn't even be there in the first place. Maybe I should come and get you."

"Maybe he just picked up another shift. We do need the money, to be honest."

"Honey, is that really what you believe?"

"No," Angela sighed in defeat.

"I think I need to come over right now," Lucas said in a final tone.

"No!" Angela exclaimed, then took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. "I mean, not yet. He's gotten better," she lied.

"Oh honey," he said in a sympathetic tone. "You can't lie to me, you know that. They call it the calm before the storm."

Angela sighed, feeling torn between two worlds. "I don't know..."

"Okay, listen to me. If things are fine tonight, don't call me and I won't come. But if things look bad – if they even smell bad – you call me, and I will be there within a few minutes. You hear me?"

"Yes," Angela said, some semblance of relief washing over her. "I hear you. Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, honey," Lucas said and hung up.

Angela sighed and put away her phone, crushed out her cigarette and lit a new one. She thought of Lucas, her oldest and dearest friend, and the most handsome man she'd ever known. Their parents had been friends for years before either one of them were born, and for years afterward as well. Lucas had been three – almost four – when she was born and had always been like a big brother to her, until they hit puberty and started developing more complex feelings for one another. They never talked about it, nor did they ever act on it, but the intense gravity that drew them closer to one another had always lingered. 

She recalled the last time she'd seen him, which had been at her mother's funeral. He had looked breathtaking that day, his brilliant blue eyes had held a glint of sadness, his muscular body still evident beneath his black suit. His dark bronze hair had been slicked back and to the side professionally. She also couldn't help but notice that the girl on his arm that day bore a striking resemblance to her; the same dark red hair and piercing green eyes, freckles on her cheeks barely concealed by the makeup she wore. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears as she also recalled the way he had looked at her that day, the way his date could only dream about being looked at by him. She recalled the way time had seemed to stand still as they held each other's gaze.

Angela had been so far away in her seemingly useless pondering that she didn't notice Roger's pickup pulling up in the driveway or him getting out of it, until she felt her cigarette being snatched from between her lips. She watched as it flew through the air and landed on the damp lawn, smoldering for a while before it eventually died out. She looked up into his smoky brown eyes, then looked away as she could see no love or tenderness in them. The silence was making her extremely uncomfortable.

"Baby, you're home," She finally said, looking up at him again whilst avoiding eye contact, an uneasy smile plastered upon her face.

He remained stone-faced, but opened his mouth, nonetheless.

"Let's go inside, dear," He said, his voice containing nothing but malice and venom.

"O-okay," she stammered and got up on legs that felt way too unstable and wobbly. She walked through the door and into the hallway, hearing the door slam behind them, flinching at the sound the frame made from the force.

"What the fuck was that?" He exclaimed, his words slurring as he forcefully grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him. "When did you start smoking again? Or did you just never stop? Without my permission!" He roared, causing her to cower in fear. "Answer me!"

"I-it was just this once, I just needed-" Before she could finish, she felt a hard smack on the side of her face, the pain rippling through her entire skull. The skin on her cheek felt hot and cold all at once. She could feel her eyes tearing up and moisture wetting her cheeks as a sob racked through her entire body.

"No!" He yelled. "You don't need that; all you need is me!"

Another smack, this time it was her shoulder, sending her crashing against the wall and toppling over a display cabinet, which also toppled over, spilling its contents onto the floor, all her mother's precious china shattering on impact. She received a kick to the stomach, making her gasp for air, a white light shattering her vision as an electric shock traveled through her body. A kick to the shin, making her cry out in agony.

Somehow, she'd gotten to her feet and stumbled toward the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She collapsed against the door, her hysterical tears mixing with the blood already caked on her face. She typed out a brief message to Lucas: 'Please come!' before the door to the bathroom cracked open and she was faced with her attacker yet again.