Chapter 2- Maya's POV

When I got home. 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.

“Maya!” His voice shook the walls. “Who did you tell? What lies are you spreading?”

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

He knew. Or at least, he thought he did.

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. No one will ever believe you.”

The words were worse than the belt. 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. 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.

I couldn’t stay here. Not anymore.

If I did, he would finish what he started.

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 a dream. It was the only way out.

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 in forever, I felt a flicker of hope.

That night, while he slept, I packed.

Every sound felt too loud. The floor creaked under my weight, my bag rustled as I shoved clothes inside. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would wake him. Shadows shifted on the walls, and each one made me freeze.

But I kept going.

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.

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 put more distance between me and that house. Every mile loosened the chains he had wrapped around me.

“I’ll 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.

I slid into the back seat. The leather was smooth, smelling faintly of polish. The silence inside pressed on me, and I fiddled with the strap of my bag, my fingers twitching to release the nerves.

The car pulled up to the school gates, and my breath caught.

The buildings weren’t like anything I’d ever seen. Tall stone walls rose high, covered in ivy. Windows glowed faintly, golden against the gray stone. At the center, a huge clock tower loomed, its hands frozen at noon. The air around the campus felt heavy, almost humming, like the moment before a storm.

Students walked the courtyard in crisp uniforms, their laughter carrying in the wind. They looked polished, untouchable.

I stepped out, my sneakers crunching against the stone path. My hands gripped the bag straps so tight they hurt. I felt like an intruder, like one wrong move would get me kicked 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. 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.”

Her voice was light, her smile easy. For the first time in forever, something in my chest eased.