1 | before the party's over

A/N: Please vote! It really does help, and it lets me know that you like my story, giving me more motivation to write. I appreciate comments as well. Thanks for reading!

"Lucy, where is my food?" I heard a voice coming from outside the bedroom. I slowly opened my eyes and glanced at the clock.

It was 7:42.

"Oh, damn it, I overslept!" I exclaimed, jumping out of bed and rushing to the kitchen. Chris was already seated at the table.

"I'm so sorry, Chris, I didn't hear my alarm clock," I apologized.

"Just admit you're lazy, Lucy," he retorted, eyes fixed on his phone screen.

"But I'm not—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Just get me something to eat quickly, or I'll get really angry with you!" he demanded, now fully focused on me.

I stayed silent and quickly prepared his breakfast. It was better not to provoke him; I didn't want another outburst like last time, with glasses shattering on the floor.

"Okay, here's your breakfast, honey," I said cheerfully, placing the cereal in front of him. He didn't even glance at me, so I decided to get dressed. As I started to leave, he grabbed my arm.

"Did I say you could go?" Chris demanded.

"No, I need to get ready. Let me go," I insisted, trying to free myself from his grasp.

"You'll do as I say. Now go and make me a coffee," he ordered, finally releasing his grip. I complied, even though I knew I'd be terribly late for work and Tim would likely be upset with me.

"Here's your coffee," I said, placing the steaming mug in front of him. "Wow, you're useful for something after all! Now, go get ready and go to work. I can't stand to watch you anymore," he sneered. I nodded and retreated to the bedroom.

He was nice to me when we started dating. We loved each other but after a while he became this entire different person. I tried to talk about it and eventually break up with him. But i couldn't. He knows i would not dare. They would fire me at work if Chris told them about my mental health,my self harm after the kidnapping.

After hastily getting dressed and applying some makeup to hide the signs of fatigue, I grabbed my bag and hurried to work. Surprisingly, Chris didn't say anything as I left.

I arrived at work an hour late, greeted by a flurry of missed calls. "I'm so sorry, Sir, I overslept," I apologized as soon as I saw Tim waiting for me. He simply rolled his eyes and gestured for me to follow him to the shop. "I'm really sorry, Tim. It won't happen again, I swear!" I pleaded, tears welling up in my eyes. He stopped and looked at me, his expression shifting from annoyance to concern.

"It's okay, it happens. Now, go change, and I'll meet you in the shop," he said, his blue eyes filled with understanding. "Yes, sir," I replied, hurrying to change into my uniform. As I did, my phone rang, and I saw a message notification.

Message from Chris: "I know you're hooking up with that Bradford guy, Lucy. I will take everything away from you."

Damn, he's drunk again. Threatening to leave and take everything away, accusing me of cheating once more. I can't handle this anymore.

My chest tightens, and I struggle to breathe. Gasping for air, I clutch at my chest, feeling like I'm suffocating. My heart races, pounding in my ears, drowning out everything else.

I try to calm myself, to focus on breathing in and out, but it's like my lungs refuse to cooperate. Each breath feels shallow, inadequate, leaving me feeling more panicked than before.

My vision blurs, tears stinging my eyes as I collapse to the floor, unable to stand. The room spins around me, and I feel dizzy, disoriented. Every noise seems amplified, echoing in my ears and adding to my sense of overwhelming dread.

Someone enters the changing room, but I can't make out who it is through the haze of my panic. Their voice is distant, muffled, as if coming from underwater. They speak soothing words, urging me to breathe, but it's like I've forgotten how.

"Luce, breathe," they say, their voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Put your head on my chest, listen to my heartbeat." I try to follow their instructions, focusing on the steady rhythm of their heartbeat against my ear.

After what feels like an eternity, the fog begins to lift. Slowly, my breathing steadies, the tightness in my chest easing ever so slightly. The panic begins to recede, leaving behind a profound sense of exhaustion.

I open my eyes, blinking away the tears, and find Tim beside me, his concerned gaze locked on mine. His presence is a comfort, grounding me in reality amidst the chaos of my thoughts.

"Hey, you're safe with me," he reassures, his voice gentle and soothing. "Everything's going to be alright." I cling to his words, finding solace in his presence as the last remnants of panic fade away.

We finish our shift quickly, and I head to the dressing room. Tim knocks on the door, asking to come in. I agree, and he insists we go out immediately.

At the bar, we drink and laugh, trying to forget about the panic attack. We play games and dance, but eventually, my exhaustion catches up with me. I sit down at the bar, overwhelmed by Chris's calls and messages.

"I need to go home," I tell Tim. He looks at me with concern, and without hesitation, he drives me home in silence. It's a comfortable silence, free of awkwardness.

"Thank you," I say as we arrive at my apartment building. "Good night, Lucy," he replies with a weak smile. I step out of the car, feeling grateful for his support.

As I approached my apartment building, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I knew what awaited me inside - Chris, my boyfriend, a volatile mix of alcohol and anger. As I opened the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke assaulted my senses.

Sure enough, there he was, slouched on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in hand. His eyes were bloodshot, his expression twisted with rage as he caught sight of me. Without a word, he lurched to his feet, the bottle slipping from his grasp and shattering on the floor.

"Where the hell have you been?" he spat, his voice slurred with intoxication. I tried to back away, to retreat from his looming figure, but there was nowhere to run. I was trapped in this nightmare once again.

"I-I was just out with Tim," I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear coursing through my veins. But my words only seemed to enrage him further.

"Tim? That bastard again?" he growled, his fists clenched at his sides. Before I could react, he lunged forward, his hands closing around my throat in a vice-like grip.

Panic surged through me as I struggled to breathe, his fingers cutting off my air supply. I clawed at his hands, gasping for air as black spots danced at the edges of my vision. This wasn't the first time he had laid his hands on me, but each time felt like a fresh hell.

With a sudden burst of strength, I managed to break free, stumbling backwards as I fought to catch my breath. But there was no escaping him - he was relentless in his pursuit, his anger fueling his every move.

He advanced towards me, his movements unsteady as he raised his hand to strike. I braced myself for the impact, a sickening sense of dread washing over me. The blow landed with a resounding thud, sending waves of pain radiating through my body.

I collapsed to the ground, the room spinning around me as darkness threatened to consume me. But even in the depths of despair, a small voice inside me refused to give up hope. I knew I deserved better than this - better than him.

As the blows continued to rain down upon me, I made a decision - I would no longer be a victim of his abuse. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I pushed myself to my feet, determination blazing in my eyes.

"Stop!" I screamed, my voice raw with emotion. "I won't let you do this to me anymore!"

Chris's eyes darkened with fury at my defiance. Without a word, he grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me towards the bedroom, his grip like iron. I struggled against him, my heart pounding with fear, but his hold only tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh.

"No, please!" I pleaded, the words choked with tears. But my cries fell on deaf ears as he forced me into the room and slammed the door shut behind us.

I could feel the weight of his presence bearing down on me, suffocating me with its intensity. Every instinct screamed at me to fight back, to resist with every ounce of strength I had left. But I knew deep down that it would only make things worse - that I was powerless to stop him.

Terror gripped me as he advanced towards me, his movements predatory and menacing. I backed away, my heart hammering in my chest, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the monster that lurked within him.

As he loomed over me, a sickening sense of dread washed over me, filling me with a sense of impending doom. I knew what was about to happen, but I was powerless to stop it - trapped in a nightmare from which I couldn't wake.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the horror of what was to come, but the memories of past assaults haunted me, tormenting me with their relentless brutality. Each touch, each violation, was etched into my mind, a scar that would never heal.

And then, it began - the pain, the agony, the violation of everything I held dear. I cried out, a voice lost in the darkness, as he tore away my dignity, my humanity, leaving me broken and shattered in his wake.

Hours passed - or maybe it was only minutes - but time ceased to have meaning in the hellish prison of my own making. I was lost in a nightmare of my own creation, unable to escape the horrors that awaited me at every turn.

And when it was finally over, when he had taken everything from me and left me nothing but a hollow shell of the person I once was, he left me alone in the darkness, a silent witness to the atrocities that had been committed against me.

I lay there, trembling and broken, my soul shattered into a million pieces. And as the tears streamed down my face, I knew that I would never be whole again - that a part of me would always be lost to the darkness that had consumed me.