Page 1 of Camden

PROLOGUE

STEPHANIE

I rolleddown the windows of my small, blue Toyota, the wind keeping me awake. Pain radiated through my body as I shifted in my seat. My teeth clenched as I gripped the steering wheel harder. I was alive.

I would be okay.

I had to be.

The lights of my hometown faded from the rearview mirror over two hours ago, but the tightness in my chest remained. Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed my hair out of my face, wincing when I brushed the bruised skin on my cheek.

A reminder of why I left.

Fled.

I didn’t know how long it would take him to realize I’d run. Luckily, he worked nights, which gave me at least five more hours without him realizing I wasn’t at home.

When I graduated from nursing school, I immediately moved back to Montana to live with Jax. My boyfriend. The only person I had left in my hometown.

While I was at school, Jax decided he could sleep around and do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted. A fact I didn’t learn about until a text showed up on his phone late one night.

That was the first time I tried to leave.

I didn’t even make it through the front door before he had me pinned against the hard wood with a hand wrapped tightly around my throat.

He apologized, and I forgave him. He promised he would never cheat again. Promised he would never put his hands on me again.

I believed him.

I was an idiot.

Things got better for roughly three months. Jax was sweet and caring. He proposed. I said yes because I had hoped he was still the man I fell in love with at 18.

Too bad he was also a monster.

And an alcoholic.

Both of which he hid well.

Now I knew he covered the stench of alcohol. He drank coke and rum at work, though it was mostly rum. Eye drops kept his eyes clear, but nothing masked the way his pupils dilated. Not that anyone questioned him.

No one cared.

The chocolate brown eyes I’d originally fallen in love with turned hateful.Evil.

I began to hate when he would come home from work. I hated how I allowed myself to stay with him.

But he loved me.

Or so I thought.

Over time, he became more violent. Shoved me against the counter.

Against the wall.

He would grab my hair and rip me backward when I tried to walk away from him. I wore long sleeves to hide the bruising he left on my arms when he grabbed me.

Hit me.

---