Chapter 4: The Escape
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Marco’s words hung in the air, heavier than the silence between us.
Marco
I’m tired of watching you go through this alone.
He meant it. I could see it in his eyes, the way they shimmered with unshed tears. For years, I’d craved this moment—someone standing up for me, telling me that I wasn’t completely worthless. But as I stood there, the sting of my father’s slap still fresh on my cheek, I realized something important.
This wasn’t enough. Marco couldn’t save me. He could intervene for a moment, but the cycle wouldn’t break. My father’s rage was like a force of nature, always lurking, waiting to tear me apart again. I wasn’t strong enough to keep living like this. And now, after everything, I knew what I had to do.
I whispered, the decision crystallizing in my mind as the words escaped my lips.
Marco blinked, clearly taken aback.
Miles
I can’t stay here anymore.
I said, my voice firmer this time.
Miles
I’m done being his punching bag. I’m done waiting for things to get better. I have to go.
His voice wavered, the full weight of my decision sinking in.
I didn’t answer right away. In truth, I’d been thinking about it for a while now, even if I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself. There was only one place I could go, one person who might understand. Rhys.
Miles
We’ve talked about it.
I lied, more to convince myself than Marco.
Miles
Rhys said I could stay with him.
Marco’s face tightened. He never liked Rhys, not that I could blame him. Rhys was rough around the edges, blunt, sometimes even a little too controlling. But he was the only escape I had, the only person who seemed to care, even if his care sometimes felt… possessive.
Marco asked, doubt clear in his voice.
Marco
Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, you barely know him.
Miles
I know him well enough.
I shot back, feeling defensive.
Miles
Better than anyone else here. He cares about me.
Marco stared at me, his eyes searching for something, some reason to convince me to stay. But he knew, just as I did, that staying wasn’t an option. If I stayed, the next confrontation with Dad could be worse. And Marco wouldn’t always be there to step in.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
Marco
If you’re really going, just… be careful, okay? Rhys… he’s intense
I promised, even though the uneasy feeling in my gut told me I wasn’t as sure as I wanted to be.
Miles
But I have to get out, Marco. I can’t keep living like this.
He nodded, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fade.
Marco
I get it. I just… I don’t want you to trade one bad situation for another.
His words lingered as I packed my things in a small duffel bag—just the essentials. A few clothes, my phone charger, and the little bit of money I’d managed to save up. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t need much. I just needed to get away.
The house was eerily quiet as I tiptoed down the stairs, Marco behind me, watching in case our father reappeared. When I reached the front door, I paused, my hand hovering over the knob.
I whispered to myself. The door was freedom, but it was also unknown. I was stepping into something I couldn’t fully control. But anything was better than staying here.
Marco
Take care of yourself, Miles.
Marco
And call me. Please.
I whispered back, trying to keep my voice steady. Then, before I could hesitate any longer, I opened the door and stepped out into the night.
The air outside was cool, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension inside the house. My heart raced as I walked down the driveway, every step feeling heavier than the last. My father’s voice echoed in my mind, reminding me of all the things I was leaving behind. But I kept walking.
Rhys lived about ten minutes away. I pulled out my phone, typing out a quick message:
Miles
💬I’m coming over. Is that okay?
The reply came almost instantly:
Rhys
💬Come. You know the door’s always open.
I exhaled, the knot in my chest loosening just a little. Rhys was intense, sure, but he had always made me feel wanted, like I mattered to someone. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he was something different from the chaos of home.
When I reached his place, the porch light was already on, casting a warm glow over the steps. I knocked once, but the door opened before my hand even hit the wood a second time.
Rhys stood there, his dark eyes sharp but welcoming.
Rhys
You finally made the right choice.
He said with a smirk, stepping aside to let me in.
I forced a smile, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that twisted in my stomach. This was what I wanted. This was my escape.
I stepped into his house, the door closing behind me with a heavy thud.
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