Shattered

Chapter 36

Sometimes we have to push through when we want to give up most.

It would've been so easy for me to give up right then. To surrender myself and accept this as my new life. This was the first time the thought occurred to me, but I wondered, what would it be like? I had thought about giving up in the sense of killing myself, but not about simply letting this happen. If I gave up now, what would it be like in a few weeks, months, or even years?

My focus was always on the present, and how I would escape, not on what would happen if I were to just submit. Although he was, for the most part, patient with me, eventually, he would want more, I knew this, but it lurked in the back of my mind. Our relationship now wouldn't be the same in a year, for example, which made me wonder what it would turn into. Imagining myself giving into Chandler disgusted me.

In the long run, a lot more could, and probably would, happen. Would he want a family, kids? What would happen then? It scared me, it scared me so much. There was no bit of me that wanted to give up and find the answers to these questions, they were better left unanswered. I wished for them to stay a mystery forever. My thoughts provided enough insight on the emotions I could expect, but I needed them to stay in my head.

With sleepy eyes, I blinked it all away, deciding it wasn't good for me to think about such things, especially after such a long and overwhelming day, one that left me in an unstable headspace. The bedroom was dark, slivers of the city lights peeking from the cracks in the curtains. Laying on my side, I tucked my hands into my body, watching the rhythm of Chandler's breathing.

The rise and fall of his chest made my jaw clench. I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and just squeeze, like he did to me. I'm the one who always has to suffer, he deserves to feel pain as well, bad pain. If this were a fair fight, I could do so much damage, and I wouldn't even think twice about it.

But this fight is far from fair.

He laid on his back, head toward the ceiling, making his nose bridge and jaw appear sharper than usual, the shadows prominent. His face was beautiful, so much so that it made me want to ruin it. To dig my nails into his skin and make him bleed, to punch him like I did to Lucas, to slap him like he did to me so many times before. Imaging all the different ways I could make his perfect face nothing but a smear of red excited me, a small devious smile overcoming my mouth. They say revenge is sweet, and I've been dying to try it.

With the utmost caution and gentleness, I pushed myself up from the mattress, straining my bruised stomach, and noiselessly stepping onto the cold wooden floor. My ankles and knees ached in protest, begging me to lay down once more. I ignored the pain, turning back to glance at Chandler, knowing he was a light sleeper, I had to be as careful as possible. He was still, unmoving, breathing evenly, signaling that it was safe for me to continue.

Slowly, I made it to the door, which I found to be surprisingly unlocked. I had never tried to sneak away in the middle of the night before, except my first night here, so I assumed Chandler had enough trust in me to sleep or stay in bed at the least. But tonight, I had laid there for hours, exhausted but unable to sleep, so I supposed moving to another area of the apartment and being alone, without being locked in a room, might help to ease me into sleeping.

Reaching for the doorknob, I quietly shut the door behind me, releasing a breath filled with tension. I made my way downstairs, every step filled with agony. My fingernails dug into my palms as a distraction, desperate to redirect pain elsewhere, but also to prevent myself from making noise. The last thing I wanted was to wake up Chandler and have my alone time cut short.

Mostly familiar with the layout of the kitchen, I took a cup from a cabinet and filled it with water to relieve my dry throat. I didn't remember when it happened, but I noticed that the knives were moved away from the top of the refrigerator, probably because Chandler realized I could reach them simply by standing on a chair, which were conveniently in the neighboring room. Most likely, they were now in the only locked cabinet, along with anything else I could use to my advantage.