Chapter One

Not edited or proofread.

Novella

My thumb swiped over the screen of my phone as I swiped to the next page in my book, my heart pounding in my chest. The main character had been kidnapped and was currently being tortured, and the book had just switched to the hero's point of view. He was coming for her, and when he found her, I just knew he was going to rip those assholes apart for daring to touch his woman.

I couldn't wait.

The smell of something burning assaulted my nostrils. My eyes widened in horror, my stomach plummeting to my feet. Dropping my phone on the couch cushions, I lurched to my feet, running for the kitchen. I almost slipped on the tile when I entered, my sock-covered feet scrabbling for purchase, but thankfully, I didn't face plant.

I opened the oven and immediately squeezed my eyes shut, my heart pounding in fear. Nausea swirled in my gut, vomit threatening to rise up my throat. My stomach painfully twisted.

Dexter was going to be furious. He worked construction, and sometimes, his days were as long as fourteen hours. He was going to be tired and expecting dinner when he got home, and I'd ruined it.

My fingers trembled as I pulled the burnt pizza out of the oven and gently set it on the stove. Tears blurred my eyes, but I willed myself not to cry. Glancing at the clock on the stove, I noted that it was only six in the evening. I had time to go buy another pizza and try again, right? It was a nice day today, which normally meant Dexter would be working longer.

Maybe I even had time to get the burned smell out of the—

The front door opened.

Every muscle in my body locked. Fear overwhelmed my senses. I had to clench my jaw to the point it hurt to keep my teeth from chattering.

"Did you fucking burn dinner?" I heard Dexter snap, the front door slamming shut behind him. I flinched and somehow forced my feet to move, to turn and take me in the direction of the living room. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, though I knew I was just panicking.

"Dex—"

He had my phone in his hand, and he snarled before throwing it to the floor. The screen cracked, and for good measure, he stomped his steel-toed boots on it over and over again, completely shattering it. I swallowed thickly, on the verge of pissing myself out of pure fear.

"I've told you not to read those fucking books!" he shouted at me. "They fill your head with stupid ass ideas, and you can't focus on shit when you're reading them anyway!" His hand came around my throat before my brain could even register that he was moving. My back smacked into the wall, and my head bounced off of it hard enough to make black spots appear in my vision for a moment.

"How many times do I have to fucking tell you?" he snarled at me, his face mere inches from mine. His hot breath fanned over my face, filling my senses. A tear ran down my cheek.

"Dexter, please," I croaked. "I'll go out right now and get another pizza and remake—"

"No," he sneered, cutting me off. My lips trembled. "I'm tired of giving you chances. I'm tired of constantly having to wait around while you fix your fuck-ups. You have one goddamn job, Novella, and that's to take care of this house and me. That is it. That's all I fucking ask of you. And you can't do that right. Not even when I'm out there all hours of the goddamn day, busting my ass and paying all of your fucking bills."

"Dexter—"

He released my throat, and the back of his hand cracked across my face, sending me sprawling to the ground. But he was so angry that he didn't stop there. His boot connected with my ribs. When I tried crawling away, he kicked me again, this time in the stomach. Everything I'd managed to eat today came spewing out.

And that only made him angrier. Because now, I'd made a mess.

Pain exploded everywhere he hit or kicked me. I almost blacked out a few times before he brought me back around. He was shouting at me—I could see his lips moving—but I couldn't hear anything through the ringing in my ears.

Finally, he got up. I managed to close my eyes just in time for him to spit on my face. Then, I watched as he stormed out of the front dor, slamming it closed behind him.

Hot tears streaked down my sore, bloody cheeks. I rolled onto my stomach and army crawled to the bathroom, swallowing vomit with every painful, agonized move I made. My vision darkened more and more at the edges, threatening to drag me under.

I needed to get to the bathroom to clean myself up. Then, I needed to put on makeup, change clothes, and go to the store to buy another pizza and remake dinner.

Vomit spewed from my lips when I tried to push myself up enough to grab the door handle to the bathroom to open it up. I collapsed, my head smacking against the floor hard enough to completely knock me out.