5.

~SCARLETT.

*~FLASHBACK~*

I adjusted my shirt, giving myself one last look in the mirror. Jake wasn't home yet—he'd left earlier, saying he had something to take care of—but that worked out fine since I was meeting my friend, Janice, to go shopping.

Grabbing my phone, I headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs, still texting Janice about where we'd meet. I was halfway to the door, my sandals clicking softly against the tiled floor, when a voice stopped me cold.

"Where to?"

I jumped, my phone slipping from my hand. I barely caught it before it hit the floor, my heart racing as I spun around.

Jake was sitting at the dining table, a bottle of tequila in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot. It took me a moment to process what I was seeing. Jake didn't drink. EVER. This... this was new.

"Baby," I said with a nervous laugh, my hand pressed against my chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack. When did you get back?"

Ignoring my question, he repeated, 'Where are you going?

I stared in confusion. "I told you… I'm going shopping with Janice." I gestured at my phone. "I'll be back early. It's no big deal."

Jake's fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle, his knuckles turning white. "Go back inside," he said firmly. "You're not leaving."

My stomach lurched. I didn't understand what was happening. Jake had never acted like this before.

"Okay, very funny," I said lightly, trying to shake off the unease creeping over me. "I know you'll miss me, but it's just a couple of hours. I'll be back before you know it."

I turned toward the door, brushing it off as a bad joke or a weird mood. But before I could take another step, a hand grabbed me with such force that it yanked me backward, sending me colliding with the floor.

My back hit the ground hard, and I winced in pain as I looked up, startled. Standing over me was Jake, his bloodshot eyes blazing with anger.

"I said you're not leaving!" he roared.

"Jake, what is wrong with you?" I stuttered, struggling to my feet. "Why are you acting like this?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me up the stairs. I fought against his grip, but he was too strong.

"Jake, stop! Let me go!" I yelled, panic flooding my chest.

He didn't stop until he'd shoved me into our bedroom. The door slammed shut, and I heard the lock click into place.

Running to the door, I banged on it with my fists. "Jake! Open the door! What are you doing? Let me out!"

There was no response.

I slid down to the floor, my back against the door as tears spilled down my cheeks.

*~END OF FLASHBACK~*

That was the first time I'd ever seen Jake drunk.

Something about a drunk Jake was terrifying. That day, I saw a side of him I didn't know existed—a darker, more volatile side that left me shaken to my core.

He locked me in the room for the entire night. I stayed there, crying myself to sleep against the door, too afraid and too confused to even think about what might happen next.

The next morning, he unlocked the door, looking disheveled and remorseful, his words a tangled mess of regret and promises. I forgave him, wanting so badly to believe it was a one-time lapse in judgment.

But seeing him drunk now... it felt like history repeating itself.

Jake lunged at me without warning, his movements clumsy but full of force. A hand shot out, and I ducked just in time, causing him to stagger forward.

"Jake, stop!" I shouted, backing away.

He turned, his eyes wild and unfocused, and came at me again. My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears as I darted toward the bathroom, hoping to lock myself inside before he reached me.

I slammed the door shut and twisted the lock, but before I could secure it, he shoved the door open with such force that I stumbled backward, barely catching myself. His smirk was cruel, his face contorted in a way I didn't recognize.

"Nowhere to run now, Scar," he taunted.

I couldn't find the words. My heart raced, and my mind scrambled for an escape. He took a slow step toward me, narrowing his eyes as he continued.

"Why are you even running? Wasn't this what you wanted all along? You've been dying for me to touch you, haven't you? Now I want to give it to you, but you refuse... but you'll let Liam touch you?"

I winced at the mention of Liam, my stomach twisting in knots. I stumbled backward, trying to put more distance between us. "No… Jake… it's not like that. You're not yourself right now. Please..." My words came out in a frantic, stuttered mess as I gasped for air. "I'm sorry... Liam was a mistake. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I swear."

He sneered as he eyed me, taking another step closer. "If you're sorry, then you'll show me. You'll show me how sorry you are."

His voice was calm, but his eyes were full of rage. My back hit the sink, and I was cornered. Tears flowed freely as I desperately tried to think of something, anything to get out of this nightmare.

As he drew closer, my eyes landed on the towel rack beside me, its metal bars hanging loosely. I grabbed one and swung it in front of me, using it as a makeshift weapon.

He paused, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. "What are you going to do with that?"

"Stay back," I warned, my grip tightening as I struggled to steady my breath.

He scoffed. "You think that's going to stop me?"

Before he could take another step, I hurled the rack at him, catching him off guard. He stumbled backward, giving me the chance to slip past him toward the door. I fumbled with the key, hands shaking, twisting it frantically. Why won't this stupid key come out?

I heard a grunt from behind me, followed by a loud crash. Panic surged through me as I finally yanked the key free.

Before slamming the door shut, I saw him sprawled on the floor, his face twisted in frustration. I quickly locked it, hearing the bolt slide into place with a satisfying click.

I backed away, my legs giving way as I dropped to the floor, still clutching the key.

The pounding on the door made me jump and my body tense in fear.

"Scarlett! You better open this door! If I get my hands on you..."

I couldn't bring myself to answer, too afraid to speak. I stayed there, curled on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

For a moment, it felt like the walls were closing in. I wondered how no one had heard the commotion. How had no one noticed? Maybe the staff were used to this by now.

Clutching the locket around my neck, I let the cool metal comfort me as I closed my eyes and thought of my parents.

I remembered the time we went to the beach when I was younger, the sun shining, mom laughing as daddy tried to teach me how to surf. They were happy, whole... and so was I. I let that memory fill me, smiling softly at the warmth it brought. It felt like a beacon of hope, a reminder that not all was lost.

For a moment, the pounding on the door faded away, the silence around me growing peaceful as I clung to the memory of better days.