Reaching out toward the curtains Hayley drew them aside. The morning light flooded through the window, revealing the towns people going to and from stores that lined up and down Summit Avenue. It still felt surreal that it had only been a year since she moved to Bellmond, a small town just outside of Nashville Tennessee. It wasn’t as if she had a say in the matter when she was relocated and forced to leave behind her friends and family without any explanation of what was going on. But her witness protection agent, Michael, advised her that this was the safest option for everyone, and Hayley couldn’t argue with that. She was currently working at Miss. Daisy’s Bookstore, and was given the responsibility to manage the store in place of her boss since she called in sick early this morning. Hayley didn’t particularly mind, in fact she quite liked the thought of her boss placing so much trust in her. However, slow days like today were hard to keep from thinking about him. He had once been a man who’d cherished her; but over time the facade he had been putting on slowly faded away, in its place came a man she didn’t recognize. Issac had felt guilty the first time he laid his hands on her and even attempted to stop, but the anger that would consume him took over all reasoning. He soon came to realize taking it out on her was the best release. Though he was a thousand miles away from where she was he still had a hold on her. The physical and mental scars left by him were something she’d live with for the rest of her life⎼forever tormenting her. She’d often catch herself feeling like Issac was hiding somewhere in the shadows watching her every move, waiting for the right moment to pounce on her and drag her back into the darkness she’d tried so hard to escape from. Entering the witness protection program was her only hope of starting a life that didn’t involve him. Hayley just prayed the police would find him before he found her, because she knew once he got a hold of her again his revenge would be the end of her.

The ringing of the bell that hung above the bookstore’s door pulled Hayley from her troubling thoughts, and alerted her that someone entered the store.

Plastering a smile on her face she looked up from the front counter to greet her first customer of the day, “Welcome to Miss. Daisy’s Book-'' Hayley’s smile slipped away as fear consumed every cell of her body at the sight before her.

Her heart felt as if it might explode as it thumped hard against her chest, her body and mind begged her to run away as fast as she could; but the piercing blue eyes that stared back at her froze her where she stood.

“Hello Hayley, it's been awhile,” the deep voice she’d once fallen in love with now sent chills down her spine and had nausea creeping in her throat. How’d he find her?

                                 ***
There was something so satisfying about Hayley when Issac first met her. She was never able to stand it when he got mad at her and would always be the one to cave in first. She was a sweet and gentle girl, not much for conflict, which was why it was so easy for him to control her. There were times where she had thought she could change him; but her attempts would always fail, making the acid in his veins run deeper. Issac always felt a strange sense of contemptment when he heard desperation in her tone and saw that she was on the brink of tears when things got heated between them. Hayley wasn’t an observant girl, she didn’t know that the reason her family hated him was because they could see what he was doing to her⎼how he would twist her heart until she reverted back to doing his every whim. Issac knew he shouldn’t like it but he did. He loved it. Hayley was his, not theirs. He just needed her to hang in there a little longer so they could leave her family, he was getting tired of their meddling. But she didn’t hang on. No, instead she ran, and he didn’t like that. 
He came to the conclusion that her love for him had turned into hate somewhere along the way. He thought he’d chipped away all of her emotional layers of protection, but she must’ve rebuilt those walls without his knowledge. Just the thought of her betrayal made his blood boil, he wanted to lash out at her. To enjoy the sting on his knuckles, and watch in satisfaction as she crumpled to the floor. He missed the Hayley that had loved him, and sacrificed herself for him. Give him the things he needed at the expense of herself. Maybe he didn’t make it clear enough to Hayley that she was his property; he could do whatever he wanted because she was weak and he was strong, that was how life worked. 
Issac had found her a few months after she’d left, since then he’d been keeping a close eye on her, waiting for the perfect time to surprise her. Today was the day. There was no one in the shop but her, which was perfect since they needed to have a serious talk about her poor behavior lately. The itchy feeling to remind her that her place was at his side got stronger with each step he took towards the bookstore. Opening the door, his eyes immediately found her.  

“Welcome to Miss. Daisy’s Book-'' Issac couldn’t stop the sly grin that slipped over his lips at the small gasp she made when their eyes met.

He could tell she missed him. He was pleased with himself when her skin paled and the hazel eyes he loved so much grew wide with fear.

Issac had waited for this moment for a long time and couldn’t wait to hear her explanation for leaving, “Hello Hayley, it’s been awhile.”

Why did I just do that?

She cried. The soft sobbing kind. The kind where people can't her you. Her tears mixed with blood, not her blood, the red watery substance mixed to stain her cheeks as they ran down her face.

It was her fault but she cried. The soft sobbing kind. The kind where you know what you did can't be undone. Her tears mixed with blood to remind her of what she had done.

But still she cried. The soft sobbing kind. The kind where you want to stop so everything seems right but it's not. Her tears mixed with blood to scream at her that no matter how right she felt she can't make things right ever again.

She cried. The kind where you cry until your tear ducts are dry. Her stained cheeks a mirror of what she had done, an irreversible sin.

She cried. The kind that echoes in the night. Her spots of red on her cheeks a parody of how this one action has changed her life.

She cried. The kind where you tell yourself your still sad. Her cheeks clean, washed of her disgrace.

She cried. The soft sobbing kind to trick everyone at the funeral that your so very truly sad. Her cheeks filled with pale makeup mocking the dead.

She cried. The kind where tears creep down your cheeks. Her tears were clear now, fixed, she didn't have to worry about anyone finding out.

But she needed to cry. The kind where you open up the flood gates and let the rivers and waterfalls just flow out. But her cheeks were clean she had no reason to cry, why bother? she thought to herself if I don't need to.

But she really needed to cry. The kind where you wail and thrash. Because she hadn't cried for so long, because didn't need to, because she was clean.

But she desperately needed to cry. The kind where you don't make a sound because there is no emotion left. Her cheeks were clear so was her conscience.

But she had to cry. The kind where you don't care for who or why you just need tears. Her cheeks were so dry now.

But she viciously needed to cry. The kind where you force it out like an actor for winning an Oscar winning performance just a trickle down one cheek. But she couldn't.

She made herself cry. The kind where you have blood all over you. Her cheeks were so wet with tears and blood, not her blood, the mixture that has a sort of sweetness to it as it runs into your smiling mouth, because for the first time in so long you get to cry.

She cried. The soft kind of sobbing where nobody can hear you. Her cheeks were red with joy.

And yet she cried. The soft kind of sobbing where you simile because it's not the tears of the bitter sadness of death no.

She cried. The kind where your so happy.

I should have known not to take that train I should have seen his words for what they really were All I can do now is stand here as my blood drips off my face and lands in the cold stream The hot scarlet hardly even leaves a mark Washed downstream before I can take a second glance That’s all I was to him, just another victim, another drop in the ocean of his vileness Another girl he couldn’t wait to devour and ruin I look at my murky reflection and I wonder if this scar will ever properly heal Even if it does I know the memory of this night will haunt me forever

My brain bleeds. I am confused. He has transformed again. From lover to abuser. This morning I laid my head on his chest after our lovemaking. This evening I have locked myself in the bathroom. His hard words echo in my head.

A tiny thing. A misplaced word. An uncensored comment. A misjudged action. The eggshells break. Anger explodes. His voice is raised. His words are cruel. His vitriol spews. The floodgates are open.

His features contort. I no longer know him. If I am quiet I am ignoring him. If I argue back it gets worse. If I cry I am scorned. If I reason I am ridiculed. If I try to leave he will physically force me to stay.

I wait. I try to fix the right expression on my face. Listening. Contrite. But no! I am not contrite. I am angry too. I don’t deserve his rage. My punishment does not fit my crime. My anger must hide because it is smaller than his. Weaker. Unworthy.

He is loud. I imagine the neighbours. Raising eyebrows. Turning down the TV to better hear my pain. My silent witnesses. They only see his happy face. His angry face is an invisible ghost behind the wall. Maybe like me they think they are overreacting.

We will pass each other in the street tomorrow. He will smile. Crack a joke. They will smile. Glance at me. I will hurry to my car. They know. I ashamed. Embarrassed. They know I am weak. I am a powerless victim. He is a bully. All us not as it seems.