Chapter 2- Maya's POV

MY ESCAPE

When I got home the next day. I slammed the front door shut and ran up the stairs two at a time. My hands fumbled on the lock as I shut myself inside my room.

The bag slipped off my shoulder, hitting the floor with a soft thud, but I ignored it. I stumbled to my bed and dropped face-first into the pillow. My chest was shaking, and before I could stop it, the tears came—hot and burning, soaking the fabric. I pressed my face harder into it, muffling the sobs until my throat ached.

I cried until there were no more tears, until my eyes stung and my head felt heavy. Slowly, sleep dragged me under, giving me a break from everything.

But it didn’t last.

The sound that woke me was one I hated more than anything—the slam of the kitchen door downstairs.

My eyes flew open. My heart started to pound.

Then came the footsteps. Heavy. Slow. Each one making the floor creak. My breath caught in my throat. I already knew who it was.

My father was going to continue what he started.

Maya, what did you tell your school? Why am I getting strange phone calls? I panicked—he seemed to have found out, and I knew it wasn’t going to end well.

The air left my lungs. My hands curled into the sheets.

The footsteps grew louder, closer.

I jumped off the bed, pressing myself into the farthest corner of the room. My hands shook so bad I could barely hold myself up.

The crash came next—the sound of my door splintering as his boot smashed through it. Wood cracked and flew.

His shadow filled the doorway before he even stepped inside. His shoulders hunched with rage, his face twisted. And in his hand was the belt.

“No, please” My voice cracked.

But his eyes were dark, cold. There was no mercy in them.

The first strike landed across my arm. A sharp sting lit up my skin. I yelped, stumbling back, but the second came before I could move.

Over and over. Leather snapping, my body jerking, my throat raw from begging. My hands flew up to block it, but he grabbed them, pulling them tight, something rough binding my wrists.

I twisted, struggled, but I was stuck. Helpless.

The rustle of fabric followed, heavy and certain. Trousers sliding down. The sound I had dreaded.

His breath was heavy, sour, hot against my face. His voice low and cruel.

“You’re mine. No one’s taking you away from me. No one will ever believe you.”

His words were worse than the belt sounds. Each one sank deeper, like knives twisting.

I begged. I cried. But nothing reached him.

The night dragged on, each second crawling like an hour. The walls of my room, the posters, the curtains,they all blurred into the same prison, the same nightmare I was stuck in .His voice filled every corner.

By the time light crept through the curtains, I wasn’t the same. My body hurt everywhere. My wrists burned. But worse was the hollow ache inside my chest, the feeling that something in me had cracked and might never be whole again.

I stayed on the floor, leaning against the wall, staring at nothing. My body trembled with every breath. I wanted to disappear.

But one thought pushed through the fog in my mind.

I couldn’t stay here. Not anymore.

If I did, he would finish what he started.I will not let him break me.

My eyes drifted to the drawer by my desk. Slowly, I crawled to it, pulling it open with shaky fingers. Inside was the letter.

The scholarship.

I had hidden it weeks ago. Back then, I wasn’t sure if I’d go. I thought maybe it was too good to be true. But now, it wasn’t just a dream I couldn't reach. It was my only way out of this hell.

I smoothed the creases with my palm. The school’s name stared back at me. A new town. A new life. Far enough away that even he couldn’t drag me back.

I pressed the paper to my chest. My hands trembled, but for the first time , I felt a flicker of hope and strength to go on.

That night, while he slept, I packed.

Every sound seemed amplified. The floor groaned beneath me, and my bag rustled as I jammed clothes inside. My heart hammered so fiercely I feared it might rouse him. Shadows slivered across the walls, each flicker pinning me in place.

But I kept going,I had to.

By dawn, my bag was zipped. My shoes were on. My body was shaking, but I walked out the door.

I didn’t look back. I ran as fast as I could, but I knew my feet couldn’t keep up. Spotting a bicycle not far ahead, I hopped on and pedaled away. Finally, I reached the bus station and, using the last of my savings, bought a ticket.

The bus ride was long, hours dragging by as fields and towns blurred past the window. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, clutching my bag to my chest like it was a lifeline.

Every mile drove me farther from that house, and with each one the chains he’d wrapped around me loosened just a little more.

“I can never go back,” I whispered, so soft the words fogged the glass and vanished.

But I didn’t know then that I wasn’t just leaving home. I was stepping into something else. Something bigger than the bullying, bigger than him.

The bus finally hissed to a stop. My legs were stiff as I stood, my bag heavy on my shoulder.

The town was unfamiliar. Colder. Different. I felt small the moment I stepped down onto the pavement.

That’s when I saw him.

A man stood by a sleek black car, a paper in his hand. My name was scrawled across it in bold, black letters.

I froze. No one ever waited for me. No one ever came for me. For a second, I thought it had to be a mistake.

But then I saw the crest painted on the car door. Gold and black, sharp and shining.

The school’s crest.

My throat went dry. This wasn’t just any school. This was a place for kids with money, kids with families, kids who had everything I didn’t.

My bag strap dug into my shoulder as I gripped it tighter. I couldn’t back out now. This was my only chance for a new life.

I slipped into the back seat, the leather cool and smooth, tinged with a faint scent of polish. The hush inside pressed down on me, and I toyed with the strap of my bag, my fingers trembling as if trying to shake off the nerves.

The car eased to a stop at the school gates, and my breath hitched.

The buildings weren’t like anything I’d ever seen.

Tall ivy‑clapped stone walls rose, windows glowing gold against gray. A massive clock tower at the center held its hands at noon. The campus air felt heavy, humming like the calm before a storm.

Students paced the courtyard in crisp uniforms, their laughter drifting on the wind. They seemed polished, untouchable.

I had no idea what to do or where to go, so I turned to the driver who’d brought me.

“Excuse me, where am I supposed to go?” I asked.

He stared at me for a beat, then, without a word, lifted his hand and pointed down a narrow, overgrown path.

I stepped out, sneakers crunching stone, bag straps biting my hands. I felt like an intruder—one slip and I’d be thrown out.

That’s when I bumped into someone.

“Whoa! Careful,” a cheerful voice said.

I looked up into a girl’s face. Auburn curls framed her cheeks, her eyes sparkling like she knew something I didn’t.

“New girl?” she asked, tilting her head, a grin tugging at her lips.

I nodded, too nervous to speak.

“Thought so she replied with a smile. Welcome to Crescent Academy.” She looped her arm through mine like we’d been friends for years. “I’m Lily. Come on, before this place swallows you alive.”

I blinked, startled, but she was already pulling me along.

She pointed things out as we walked,the wide training fields, the library that looked like a cathedral, the dining hall with banners fluttering high.

“It’s a lot, right?” she said with a grin. “Don’t worry. Stick with me. You’ll be fine.”

My heart hammered not with fear but with the thrill of what this place held for me.