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PROLOGUE
Jacinda
Disappointment, we all felt it at some point.
It could be down to a situation, the result of hard work we’ve put into something, or even in a person for something they’ve done. No one is immune to feeling it. How we dealt with and processed it was what separated us from each other.
Usually, I was quick to move on. Something didn’t go right? Well, I’d either try to fix what I did wrong or move on from it to something new and learn from my mistake. Someone didn’t end up being the awesome they made out they were? There was a whole world out there full of people who would.
Unfortunately, the situation I was in now was almost impossible to do that with. The guy I’d been with for fourteen months had gone from amazing to uptight, hostile, aggressive, and abusive. Every time I’d tried to end it before now, he’d promise me the moon and stick to the promises for a while, but then things would get worse.
It was now at the stage that I was afraid for my life, and I couldn’t end it because of that.
Did you have to be so stupid, Jacinda?
People would probably sneer at the predicament and tell me it was my own fault for taking him back, or they’d judge me for not calling a family member, a friend, or even the authorities. I had good reasons for not doing that, though—really good reasons.
If he’d do this to me, what made people think he wouldn’t do it to someone I loved, too? Where would he stop with them if they tried to break us up?
And if I called the authorities, would they even believe me?
He’d managed to convince me he’d changed, so why wouldn’t they believe him when he told them I was lying or clumsy, regardless of how much of a cliché that was. If he were arrested, he’d likely make bail and then come after my family or me, just to spite me. And John was a classic narcissist, excelling at making everything someone else’s fault and getting people to believe him with heart-wrenching stories.
Abusers were good at creating a web of fear and doubt, at making you unable to trust someone, and at making you see them as omnipotent. And John had done exactly that with me. If I told my dad, he’d lose his shit and come after him, and I couldn’t risk him going to prison—that’s if John didn’t beat him to death first.
The only thing I could do was to continue looking for someone in a position of authority who’d believe me and be able to help me before it was too late.
At least, that’d been my plan.
Until tonight.
I’d come home from college, dreading what was waiting for me behind the door of his small apartment. He’d had the locks changed and made sure only he had a key for it, so when he wasn’t there waiting for me, I had to sit outside until he got there. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. And he didn’t hurry back from whatever he was doing either because he knew I wouldn’t dare move from my spot until he got there. Sometimes it even took all night.
I couldn’t even go to one of my friend’s houses or back to my own where my roommates were because they all believed he was a great guy and that I was insecure and the problem.
In fact, the last time I’d spoken to one of them, they’d told me we couldn’t hang around together anymore because what I was doing to John wasn’t fair. I hadn’t understood it until one of my other friends explained how he’d told them about me making him see me every night.
Apparently, I’d even accused him of cheating on me when he hadn’t called. Given that none of this was true, I had to assume he was isolating me from people, so I didn’t have an avenue to escape available to me.
My roommate, Kortni, had pulled me aside at college and told me I was too emotionally aggressive toward him and that my insecurity wasn’t cute.
The sad thing was it was a total role reversal. John was the one who was like that toward me. The even more painful thing was that one of them came from a home where her father had been abusive toward her and her mom, so she should have been able to spot the signs. Instead, they’d labeled me as the problem and cut ties with me, leaving me with no one here since my family lived near Belton, Texas, and I lived in Austin.
I’d moved here to get a degree in business, so that I could open up my own hair salon. Given that I’d begun my training for hair when I was seventeen, being a twenty-five-year-old, who was just about to graduate from college was a weird experience. But I’d done it and I was so proud of myself.
