Page 1 of The Perfect Love

1

Beautiful Badass

Chelsea

One day, when Ihave children, I want to be able to tell my daughters a man did not break me. The world did not break me. I fought back, and I’ll keep fighting.

Which is why I’m loading up my cute little Prius, ready to take on the world—or at least a new town.Setting off on an adventure.

Just call me Bilbo Baggins.

If Bilbo had been motivated by healing from past trauma and a quiet feminine rage burning softly in the background like a well-stoked fire.

I load my large, bright purple suitcase into my trunk and shove it closed, inhaling the lake air. I’m trading one lake for anotherwith my college choice, but I’m hoping that will help me feel more at home.

My dad looks at me hesitantly. “Got everything? Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

I let him pull me into a hug while channeling my inner strength. That strength has been my survival and the closest thing I have to the old, confident version of myself.

“I’m sure. I’ll be okay. Part of the reason I chose to transfer to SUNY Finger Lakes and move to Old Lake Town is because Uncle Robbie will be right there.” Literally. My uncle owns a small apartment house and will be two floors down from me if I need him. Safety while not compromising my independence.

I get why Dad’s worried, though.

I spent four straight months in bed, two more angry while I clawed my way out, and the last three picking up the pieces. Not healed but healing. I’m on a journey to reclaim the best parts of the old me while building the person I’m becoming.

New college. New focus. Fresh start. Hopefully everything I need to stay out of the space I was in and let myself take chances and meet new people, find new friends. Even if there are some things I’ll never do again. And that’s okay.

I’m okay.

And when I’m not, I will be.

I’m resilient even in the moments when I don’t feel that way.

Or at least that’s what my therapist says.

Yeah, healing is a journey.

My phone goes off, and I pull it from my back pocket only to find a group text from my supposed best friends asking why I didn’t go out with them last night.

Getting away from two insufferably unempathetic people is just another bonus of moving almost three hours away.

When your life falls apart, you learn quickly how strong your friendships are. Unfortunately, I learned mine were as fragile as a mediocre white man’s ego.

Which is why I ignore my text, put my phone in my purse, and set that in the backseat. I want nothing but fantasy audiobooks for the next three hours of my life.

Morally gray fae book boyfriends are better than real world men.I said what I said.

My dad looks me over and nods. “Okay. Call me when you get there. And again this weekend. Or text me. Just… let me know you’re okay.”

My stepmom, Hilary, steps up next to him and takes his hand. “She’ll be okay, honey.”

We share a quick hug, but don’t linger, though I appreciate her support.

Hilary is nice and a perfect match for my dad, but they didn’t start dating until I was sixteen, and they got married when I was eighteen, so we’ve never had a deep bond. Which is fine. I never craved a maternal figure. Mostly because I already had one.

“Of course she’ll be all right.” Gran pulls me into her arms. “You rose out of the darkness, and I’m incredibly proud of how you continue to fight. Don’t take shit from anyone. And don’t let anyone steal your power or your peace. You’ve earned both.”

“Thanks, Gran. I love you.”

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