Redesigning Fate (Revive #1) - A. M. Wilson Page 0,1

and down the hallway.

My scalp screamed in agony. I gripped his hands, trying to relieve the pain in my roots. My spine burned with the force of his hands jerking my neck. I stumbled after him with tears stinging my eyes, blurring my vision.

“Let me go! I’ll go on my own! You’re hurting me!” I screamed, but his willingness to listen had evaporated.

He tugged me towards the stairs by my hair, and my heels dug into the carpet, trying to find traction to stop the descent. He jerked forward suddenly. My feet scrambled for purchase as he sent me somersaulting down the staircase. As I fell, my hair remained trapped in his grasp, sending my head craning backward, unable to keep up with my body as I tumbled down the stairs. He let go of my hair with a thrust, speeding up my descent. I hit the landing with a loud crack.

My head spun, dazed. His thundering steps came after me, and I tried to roll over, attempting to crawl away. Blood trickled down my forehead into my left eye. My trembling hand struggled to swipe it away; instead, smearing it along my cheek. He reached me before I had made it a foot and grabbed ahold of my hair once more. My teeth clanked as he violently yanked me to my feet, putting his face within inches of my own.

“Bet you wish you would have left the first time I asked you to!” he spat, drops landing on my swelling face. “Now get the fuck out!”

He opened the door, throwing me outside by the back of my head. I fell to my knees on the porch, placing a protective hand over my face. “Don’t bother coming back.” His parting gift was a hard kick to my abdomen, knocking the air out of my lungs in a whoosh.

On hands and knees, I crawled forward putting space between his front door and myself. I hadn’t recovered enough to walk yet, but I needed to get off that porch. My aching, bruised body crawled behind the giant oak tree in his front yard, pulling myself up to sit with my back against it. After several shallow breaths, I attempted to center myself, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. He’d never gotten that angry in the past. His hands had only hurt me once before, and until this day, I believed it was an accident. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

My hands shook as I ran them over my body, assessing my injuries.

As my head cleared, the predicament I found myself in hit me hard. He had thrown me outside in the middle of December with no purse, coat, or shoes. A light snow was coating the ground beneath me, and I was quietly thankful we’d been experiencing what would be considered a mild winter in Minnesota. My cell phone and keys were both in my purse. There was no way I would risk asking him for my things to get home. I was afraid of what he would do if he saw me standing on his porch again. It had to be nearing midnight.

I took another deep, calming breath and started the five-mile trek home through the snow.

The next day, Carly drove me to his house to pick up my purse and my car. His truck was in the driveway, a sign he was home. I trekked up to the front door and knocked.

No answer.

I rang the doorbell, thinking he hadn’t heard me. Still no answer. I twisted the knob and found the door unlocked. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t ever let myself in. Tentatively stepping through the foyer, I checked the downstairs for him.

“Hello?” I called out. He didn’t answer. I’d just grab my things and leave if he wasn’t around to give them to me. I preferred it this way. His bedroom was on the second floor where I knew I had left my purse.

As I pressed open the door, my eyes instantly locked on the image of Travis, naked, and pounding into his neighbor, our friend Christine. Heat rose in my gut, knocking the breath from my lungs. My hands balled into trembling fists at my sides, a scream welling up in my throat. I tried to choke it back down.

“Oh baby, harder,” she cried, oblivious to me standing a few feet away. He turned around, glancing over his shoulder as if he sensed my presence. Seeing his eyes, his expression, I knew. He orchestrated this. The