Prologue

Six months ago

Stupid describes the girl living inside me.

The girl who listened to his every word, his promises, and his lies, hoping he'd be the man I fell in love with. Even that man was a lie. He fed me hopes and dreams to get me where he wanted me.

Now, I'm afraid to leave.

He's threatened to kill my siblings if I dared to try to escape again.

Escape. Not leave.

Because I have no free will. I have no freedom. No rights. I've been stripped bare of dignity and left a broken shell of a woman he has created.

I've lost the woman I used to be. I'm alienated.

Now, I'm just a stupid girl who daydreamed of finding love. The only piece of me left is the one that somehow manages to hope for more. I know that love doesn't exist. It's a construct, it's built and manipulated, a tactic used to make na?ve women like me fall for men with bad intentions.

So I'm not sure what more means for me. Maybe more, in my new world, means independence.

God, I swear, when I met him, he was amazing. I never thought he was capable of evil. Every time he smiled, it was like I experienced what happiness was truly like. Little did I know the evil he was capable of… he played me so well. I fell for everything. The jokes, the laughs, the gentleman-like gestures, the ‘I love you's,' and it was all a mask to cover the animal who lurked beneath his skin.

The beauty of lies is that you get everything you want.

Until you realize what you want can be taken away with two simple words.

Stupid Girl.

That's what he calls me now and I have to say, I don't disagree with him.

I am a stupid girl and I hate myself for falling for the first man who showed me any attention.

The door to the closet rips open, the sunlight spilling in and nearly blinding me since I've been sitting in the dark for so long, I've lost track of time. Tyler looks down on me, hulking as always, proving his dominance with his size. His hands clench into fists just as his jaw twitches with that rage he hid so well when I first met him.

His eyes hold no regret for what he has done to me.

I hold up my cuffed wrists to block the sun that's shining through the window.

He picks me up by my throat and yanks me close, the chain pulling tight against the wall. I'm kept like a dog. I'm not allowed to go too far. Tyler leans in and unlocks the clasp from the hook. The chain falls with slack, and he backs away, tugging it like a leash.

"Come on," he orders. "You fucking stink. Get in the shower."

Of course I smell, he's keeping me in a closet with no bucket, I can't bathe and he feeds me once a day, if I'm lucky. But I know better than to say anything in return.

I don't even know what my voice sounds like at this point, it's been so long since I've used it. That's something else he's taken from me too. Speaking means violence and my body already hurts. I'm his to do whatever he wants with. Until life finally pities me enough to let me die.

When we get into the restroom, he pulls the curtain back and anchors me in place using another hook. The metal of the lock scratches the steel of the chain as he tugs it to make sure it's secure. He has hooks all around the house to lock me down, ensuring I can't escape.

He peels my sweat-stained shirt off, then my shorts and panties, but no bra because he hates them. It's one more thing that gets in the way of what he wants to see.

"You are beautiful," he says, his eyes looking me up and down as if he is starved.

I stay quiet, not wanting to acknowledge him in any way.

He cranks the shower on, and cold water hits me in the back, stealing my breath.

"I said you're beautiful, Stupid Girl. If you want warm water, you'll be polite about my compliment." He tightens the chain and yanks me close. "What do you say when your boyfriend compliments you, Mickey?" He spits my name with hatred, the scent of aged smoke on his tongue from his last cigarette.

The smell makes my stomach curl in on itself.

"Thank you," I croak, my voice is hoarse from so many days of not speaking. I swallow, licking the cold water off my lips. "Thank you, Tyler," I say a little louder.

"Good." He tilts my head back, the cold water rushing down my body.

"The water?" My teeth begin to chatter, and goosebumps rise on my skin.

He smirks. "I changed my mind. Your tits look good like this." He tweaks my hard nipple. "How long has it been, Mickey? I can't remember the last time I was inside you. I've forgotten how pretty you are." His hand slips down my stomach, then his fingers curl in my pubic hair before giving it a tug. "Not that I would touch you right now. You need to take better care of yourself. How about when you're done here, you get pretty for me? I'll get dinner delivered. We'll watch a movie. And then I'll fuck you into the couch like I used to. How's that sound?" He speaks gently, kissing my shoulder, cupping my breast, then takes my hand in his to force me to rub his erection.

I hate myself even more knowing this man was my first, the man I picked to sleep with for the first time, and he'll probably be my last.

"I remember how tight you are," he moans as he rocks his hips, his cock rubbing against my palm. "I miss it. Do you think I want it to be like this? I just want you to behave. We can have a good life if you will stop being stupid."

I turn my head away, squeezing my eyes shut and the sound of his zipper lowers. His cock smacks against my hand and the thin, short erection fits right in my palm. It's smaller than my palm, but he says that's normal, that he's considered bigger than most men, and who am I to argue? I have never seen another, so I can't disprove what he's saying.

He forces my fingers around him and squeezes them tight to make a fist.

"Oh yeah, Mickey. Just like that. Watch. Watch what you do to me."

I can't.

I can't witness how he is violating me again.

He tugs my head back with my hair. "I said to fucking watch, Stupid Girl."

I tremble from the cold temperature of the water while I do as he says, sliding his cock in and out of the hole he made with my fist. The small blunt crown peeks out with every thrust. All I want to do is squeeze it until it hurts him so bad, he can never use it again.

"Oh fuck yes, Mickey. That's it. I'm going to come. You're going to make me come." He grunts, shooting white streams over my stomach.

I'm just glad it's over.

He won't be able to get it up again which means he won't chain me to the bed and fuck me. He hasn't done that in a while and I'm thankful. I'm hoping it's because he's out fucking other women. Those girls don't know that they are saving me from so much pain when they decide to have sex with him.

The last time he chained me to the bed, he kept the leash so tight my head bent back painfully. I was lying on my stomach while he used me. I only remember crying. Other than that, I felt absolutely nothing. My soul is nearly numb now. I expect the abuse and all I can do is power through it.

Then there are times when he ties me down just to whip me, another form of punishment. I have scars all over my back from the countless times I've angered him.

The water suddenly turns warm causing the quakes in my body to ease.

"Thank you," I whisper, my body melting from the warmth.

"I can be good to you. If only you let me."

The rise of rebellion is trapped in my throat. I want to lash out. I want to scream. I want to beat him until he stops breathing. I want revenge.

"I'll be better," I lie, knowing I'll never be the person he wants.

I'm such a stupid girl.

"I know," he states, sounding hopeful as I wash my hair. "I've already seen improvement. How about I get food from that Thai place you like so much?"

My stomach grumbles in approval. It's been ages since I've had Thai.

"That would be amazing. Thank you, Ty."

He grins when he hears the nickname I call him. "It's been so long since you've called me that. I've missed it." He snags my chin between his fingers.

Ty presses his lips to mine, the same lips I used to dream about kissing now live in my nightmares. I freeze, waiting for him to pull away.

When he does, I release a slow, careful breath so he doesn't hear it.

"You can call your siblings today too."

A smile comes over my face as my heart races at the thought of hearing their voices. "Really?"

"Really, but I have to be in the room."

I nod so hard I probably look like a bobblehead. "Of course. I wouldn't want you anywhere else," I lie, but it earns me more points when I see his chest puff out.

"That's what I like to hear. Let's get you washed, and we can have a good night."

The plain bar of soap smells better than usual as he rubs up and down my body. The old yellow tile that makes the shower stall isn't as dreadful either.

Ty sprays me clean, flips the shower off, and grabs a towel. He wraps the rough, cheap cotton around my body, unhooking me from the wall, only to anchor me to another one so I have enough room to step out of the shower. My reflection catches my eye, and the newfound excitement is sucked from my sails.

I'm thin— too thin. My cheeks are sunken, I have dark circles around my eyes, and I have scars all over my body. There's a T and a Y branded on my arm. I remember that one the most. He carved his name into my flesh with a knife until I passed out.

He's made sure no one else could ever love me, could ever want me, could ever stand to even look at me.

I'll die and he'll find some other poor girl to take my place.

Tyler brushes my long black hair, then braids it to get it out of the way. We fall silent for a few minutes as he dresses me. He tugs the panties up my body, then a simple white dress over my head. It's see-through, my nipples show, and he moans in approval.

"Look at you. You look stunning. Do you like this dress? I got it just for you."

I hate it.

"I love it. Thank you for getting it for me."

He unhooks me again, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and we stroll side by side to the living room. Every few feet there is a new hook, something to chain me to, and I realize I'm not a human to him. I'm a pet and this house is my kennel.

I stare at the pictures lining the wall, all the lies built from the beginning. It's all right there. A showcase of my stupidity. In the first picture, he has me in his arms in a wildflower field, both of us are smiling as if we have found the most important piece of life's puzzle. Then the last picture is of us, but a forced smile is on my face, and he is watching me with those calculating eyes to make sure I do nothing to cause suspicion.

My eye makeup was heavier that day to cover up the bruises. Those were the first of many black eyes and I'm still counting down to when the last will be.

The old, faded blue couch sits in the middle of the living room, the light of the TV flashing as a random show plays, causing the material of the sofa to seem darker in some spots. The coffee table is littered with beer cans and the ashtray is full.

"I'll take care of this if you'll allow me, Ty," I say, thinking of a way I can make a plan to get out of here.

He nods. "Do that. I'll order food, then when I'm done you can call your siblings. They've been fucking annoying dropping by and calling me to check in. They should know I take care of you. Get them off my back, Mickey." His voice changes to that deadly warning I wouldn't dare to challenge.

"I will. I'll tell them we have a date night. Is that okay?"

He nods, plopping down on the couch, and then pulling out his phone. "Fine. When you're in the kitchen, get me another beer."

I don't say anything and it's so hard not to, but I can't go back in that closet. I gather the empty bottles in my arms, then slowly walk to the kitchen, the chain dragging behind me. The distance between every room is calculated so I can't get too far.

The chain is heavy, the weight already exhausting me. I dump the cans in the trash, then lean against the wall to catch my breath.

"Mickey! Where's my beer? Food is ordered."

I lick my lips and press my hands against my eyes to stop myself from crying. Tears won't get me anywhere except back in the closet with a new bruise.

"Can I have a bottle of water, Ty?" I ask in my meek, quiet voice.

"Go ahead."

I race to the old white fridge and nearly rip the door off. The loud hum of the motor drowns out the TV. I take the moment of peace. Only a moment. It's all I can afford, then snag his beer and a water bottle before going to the living room.

He doesn't say thank you as he pops the cap off the glass bottle and chugs half of it down. He tugs the chain, forcing me to plop down next to him.

"Here." He hands me his phone. "Five minutes, Mickey. No more than that. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand. Thank you for allowing me to call them."

"Yeah, well, I don't want the cops showing up at our door again. I mean it, Mickey. Fucking fix it or it won't end well for you."

I twist the cap off the water bottle to guzzle the cold liquid down. "I will, okay?"

I don't hear the attitude in my voice until it's too late. He backhands my cheek, the sting flourishing across my skin in a hot fever, and water I haven't swallowed flies out of my mouth.

"What did you say to me?"

I rub the warm spot, tears brimming my eyes. "I will fix it, Ty. I promise," I say low and calm, barely audible just how he likes. The weaker I sound, the better.

"Good. Now, I want to have a decent night with you. Call them and get it over with."

I type in Minnie's number because Milo will be with her. He always is. The last conversation we had was months ago and Milo told me that the code word for me is Snapdragons. All I have to do is say it and they will come get me.

But all I did was pretend I didn't hear him because Ty would kill them if they came here. I can't risk their safety. I won't.

Snapdragons.

My favorite flower, in part because when they die, they look like skulls. They are bright and beautiful but slowly shrivel to shells of themselves in the wrong conditions.

I relate to it so much.

I press the phone to my ear. It barely rings twice before Minnie's voice comes through.

"Mickey? Mickey, is that you?" She sounds excited and a bit breathless.

"Hey! It's so good to hear your voice. I miss you." Tears form in my eyes when I hear her sob. "Minnie," I whisper.

"Milo! It's Mickey," she shouts to my brother. "I'm putting you on speaker. How are you? What's going on? Is he there?" The distaste for Tyler is clear.

I side-eye Tyler to see if he heard Minnie, but his attention is on the TV. One hand is in his pants, grabbing his cock and the other holds his beer.

"We are great. We are about to have a date night. Thai food and a movie." I sound too excited for something so simple.

"Mickey, you can be honest with us," Milo whispers. "We can come get you. You don't have to be there."

"What do you have planned for the day?" I ask them, needing to change the subject before I break down and cry.

I'll be punished if I do that. He'll know what's going on. I won't put them at risk.

"We're going to figure out a way to get you out, Mickey. You deserve more than that monster. I can only imagine what he is doing to you, and I know it isn't good. Please, let us help."

"Two minutes," Tyler says, reminding me of the time I have left.

"Are you being timed?" Minnie sasses in astonished anger.

A knock on the door thankfully interrupts the growing tension. Tyler stands, the floor shaking from every heavy step. I curl a lip in disgust when he pulls his hand free from his crotch and then opens the door.

"Hey man, that will be forty bucks and eighty-seven cents," the delivery guy announces.

My heart hammers in my chest when a wild thought hits me. My eyes land on the beer bottle he left on the coffee table. The brown glass shines, tempting me to set myself free. This is it. This could be my only chance.

"Snapdragons," I whisper.

"Mickey? What? Say it again. I need to hear you say it again," Milo orders in desperation.

"Snapdragons. Snapdragons. Snapdragons!" I yell the codeword so loud, that it has Tyler turning to me and the delivery man getting a view of the crime my boyfriend has been hiding from everybody. I stand, grab the bottle, and smash it against the edge of the table.

"Woah. What the fuck is going on here? Lady, do you need help? What the hell man?" The delivery driver tries to push his way by Tyler but with one quick punch, my violent boyfriend knocks the innocent man out.

I'm quick, not wanting to waste any time while he has his back to me.

I run around the table, stepping through the glass, and I already feel the deep cuts. I don't care if I bleed if it means I get out.

Raising my arm, I slam the broken bottle into his side. Blood stains his shirt and he falls to his knees. Next, I smash the ragged bottle into the side of his neck, tears blurring my eyes as my intent becomes clear.

I have to kill him to be free.

I yank the bottle free and stab him again.

And again.

Then again.

Until he falls onto his back, coughing up blood, and bleeding out onto the floor. Red pulsates from the torn flesh on his throat, and he stares at me with wide, confused eyes.

"Stupid… Girl," he chokes, wrapping a hand around his neck to apply pressure.

I rip the keys from his belt loop and get to work on all the locks that keep me trapped here. I keep the keys and without looking back, I run out the front door.

It's been ages since I've felt the evening air on my skin— since I've seen grass and felt it beneath me. I hiss with every step I take; the glass digging deeper into my feet.

"Snapdragons. Snapdragons. Snapdragons," I whisper to myself as I run.

The sound of tires squealing and a car coming around the corner makes me stop in my tracks.

They slam on the brakes in the middle of the road and jump out of the car.

"Milo," I weep, taking a step forward.

He sprints to me. "Mickey! Mickey. Oh my God, what has he done to you?" he chokes.

But as I take another step, I can't catch my weight and I fall forward, weak, hungry, and tired.

"I got you." My brother's arms are around me, keeping me safe from the ground. "I got you, Mickey. It's okay. You did good. I'm so proud of you."

The broken bottle is taken from my fist. "We need to get as far away from here as we can," Minnie says, opening the back door of the vehicle.

Milo picks me up and climbs in the back, allowing me to stretch out. My head is on his lap, and I stare up into his red, watery eyes.

"Snapdragons," I rasp, cupping his face.

He holds my hand with his. "Snapdragons, Mick. You did it. I'm so proud of you."

"Where do we go?" Minnie asks, pressing her foot on the gas.

"Let's just go until we need gas. We need away from here and him."

"Snapdragons," I repeat, tired and broken, my eyes hooding with exhaustion.

"She needs a doctor."

"Let's find one when we are out of state," Milo states, combing his fingers through my hair. "You're okay now, Mick. No more snapdragons. You're safe."

I'll always need snapdragons.

It's the hope I've held onto for far too long and the determination I've needed to survive.

If only I had my own snapdragons, then I'd never have to be afraid again.