Chapter 4 Shattered Illusions

Her fantasy was a fragile thing, destined to break beneath the weight of a possessive hand.

-

As I approached the bar, the music swelled, the bass a relentless thrumming against my chest. The air vibrated with the energy of hormone-fueled teenagers, lost in aggressive kisses and grinding dances. Some were already sloppy drunk, others clearly high.

The scent of cheap beer, sweat, and something sweet and cloying-probably some fruity vape hung heavy, making my head feel fuzzy even before I stepped inside.

Inside, the party raged. Strobe lights and lasers sliced through the dim air, painting chaotic patterns on the packed dance floor. Bodies pressed together, a sea of grinding limbs and bobbing heads. The energy was electric, thick with sweat and pulsing bodies, a dizzying, overwhelming spectacle.

I tried to pull through the crowd, my shoulders bumping against strangers, searching for Tiffany, but gave up quickly. The sheer volume of people made it impossible. Instead, I squeezed my way to the bar, elbowing past a couple locked in a passionate embrace, and grabbed a water. I knew Tiffany would be wasted by the end of the night, and I'd inevitably be driving us home. It was always me.

Sitting at the sticky bar top, trying to make myself small, I watched the chaotic scene. My gaze drifted over the dancers, the flashing lights, until my eyes landed on him. He wore a blue shirt that clung to his skin, muscles flexing subtly with every movement. His hair was messy and sexy, as usual, falling just so around his impossibly handsome face. His skin seemed to glow even in the dim, pulsing light. He was a walking god, effortlessly commanding attention.

Our eyes locked. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. I froze, every muscle in my body tensing. His gaze seemed to hypnotize me, stealing the air from my lungs, pulling me into a current i couldn't resist. It wasn't just admiration, it was surrender.

In that moment, the pounding bass, the deafening chatter , the grinding bodies-everything else simply faded. The world spun, then narrowed to just him and me, a tiny, fragile bubble in the midst of chaos. All that mattered was this fleeting connection, this impossible electric stare.

Alexander smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips, a lazy, confident gesture that felt less like an invitation and more like a claim. a slow, predatory curve of his lips, a lazy, confident gesture that felt less like an invitation and more like a claim

A warmth, tight and unfamiliar, almost a burning bloomed in my chest, a desperate, hopeful ache that spread through my veins. What was he doing to me? Why did his gaze hold so much power over me, and why did it feel both thrilling and terrifying?

Then, the bubble popped. Abruptly. Violently.

Alex was suddenly walking towards me. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum against my bones, a frantic warning. I panicked, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

I fumbled with my red solo cup, my hand trembling so badly I nearly sloshed water onto myself. My eyes darted around, desperate for an escape, for a single place to hide. I tried to look anywhere but his advancing figure, the moment stretching, agonizingly slow, as his confident, unwavering steps brought him closer. He was a predator closing in, and I, the prey. Finally, I settled my gaze on my Jordans, admiring their simple, comforting presence, wishing I could simply disappear into them, vanish from this humiliating, yet strangely captivating anticipation.

Then, a pair of dark sneakers entered my view. And with them, his scent-the familiar mix of coconut hair wash and musk. He was here. He smelled so good it made my head spin, a sharp contrast to the stale cloying air of the bar, a dangerous lure.

Finally summoning the courage to look up, I found Alex standing directly at the bar, getting a drink. And clinging, practically fused, to his side was a very pretty girl, one I could never hope to compete with. Her red dress was impossibly skimpy, hugging her small curves in all the right places, a second skin of desire.

She was drop-dead gorgeous, with a laugh that tinkled like crystal chimes, a sound that grated on my raw nerves. My eyes flicked from her perfectly sculpted body to Alex's face, only to find them devouring each other, locked in a fervent, open-mouthed kiss, right in front of me. It stole my breath, not from longing, but from a sudden, searing pain that felt like a physical wound.

My heart shattered into a million pieces. The sound of it, if hearts made sound, would have been deafening in my ears, a cacophony of hope. A cold, sickening realization dawned, hitting me like a punch to the gut: he wasn't staring at me at all. He had been looking at her the entire time. God, I was such a fool, naive and pathetic.

The humiliation burned, a sharp, immediate sting in my eye, a fire spreading across my skin. My cheeks flushed, hot with shame. I practically ran out of the bar, shoving past startled party-goers, gasping for fresh air to clear the sudden, suffocating fog in my head, the ringing of their kiss, a mocking echo, in my ears.

"Did I really think Alex was staring at me?" I sighed, leaning heavily on the cold brick wall outside, my eyes squeezed shut. The humid night air felt good against my burning skin, a small, fleeting mercy.

Of course not. Who would ever look at me with such intensity?. The whisper in my mind was bitter, self-lacerating, laced with contempt. Who would ever look at me with such intensity?. Not really. Not the way he looked at her. I guess I don't deserve that gaze. The words were a cruel confirmation, echoing every doubt I'd ever had, every fear I carried.

Suddenly an angry voice boomed through the night, ripping through my self-pity. "Lily! What the hell are you doing here?!"

Fuck.

I'm in so much trouble.

I stood frozen. My blood ran cold, fear a tangible thing seizing my limbs. There was no escape. Chase had caught me. I watched him march angrily towards me, his fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white, his jaw ticking like a malfunctioning clock, a sign of the violence simmering beneath. He muttered curses under his breath, a low, guttural growl audible even over the distant thrum of the music, his face so engorged with fury it could easily pass as a ripened tomato. His eyes, usually a cold, calculating gray, were now alight with a terrifying, unhinged rage, promising retribution.

"I'm going to ask you again, and you better give me a logical reason why you're out of the house by fucking 11 PM at a bar!" he spat, stopping inches from me, his breath hot and foul. The sheer proximity made me want to shrink away, to disappear, to simply cease to exist.

I had no words. My throat felt constricted, dry, the muscles refusing to obey. A heavy, suffocating silence hung between us, thick with unspoken threats. And I knew, with a sinking certainty that filled my entire being, that no matter what I said, the outcome would be the same. He was beyond reason.

"You're not going to say anything, huh? You dirty whore. I know you're out here sleeping around, you cheap slut," he scoffed, his voice dripping with venom, each word a poison dart aimed directly at my core, intended to wound, to destroy. "To others, we may seem related because we stay under the same roof, but I would never consider you my sister. Not now, and certainly not ever. Because you're just a useless, dumb, cheap slut." Chase lashed out, his eyes blazing with disgust, a primal hatred I'd come to recognize.

This time, I couldn't hold it in. Tears streamed down my face, hot and profuse, blurring his furious face. "Don't call me names!" I yelled back, a futile, desperate defiance.

"Oh I'll call you whatever I want. Now get your pathetic ass home right this minute and wait for me in my room," he snarled, stepping closer, his shadow engulfing me making me feel smaller, more trapped, utterly helpless. His hand shot out, a blur of motion, grabbing a handful of my hair, his fingers digging into my scalp. "Maybe then you could make yourself more useful," he growled, already pulling hard, yanking my head back.

The pain in my scalp was a familiar agony, sharp and tearing, a brutal reminder of every time his anger had twisted into something ugly, violent. His touch, even now, brought back the phantom ache of old wounds, the way his control had always suffocated me, slowly stealing my breath.

My stomach churned, and a wave of nausea washed over me, threatening to overwhelm what little composure I had left, to drag me under.

This is why I hate myself, a voice whispered, cold and bleak in the back of my mind, a constant refrain.

This is why I hate my body. His hands... always there, always on me.

Maybe this is why I can hardly sleep on my bed, because it reminds me so much of all I've lost. My innocence. My peace. My sense of self.

I couldn't hold back anymore. I screamed, the sound raw and torn from my throat, a primal cry. I begged him to let go of me. "Please let me go, Chase! I'll go home now!" My voice was ragged and desperate.

"Shut up, you dirty bitch!" he spat, tightening his grip, twisting my hair, eliciting another whimper of pain.

Then, a new voice, laced with pure fury, ripped through the night: "GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER NOW, YOU PIG!"

Someone pulled Chase away, the force of it making me lose my balance and fall hard to the ground, my body hitting the cold pavement with a jarring impact. Punches flew, a rapid brutal blur of motion, a flurry of violence,without giving Chase a chance to fight back. A sickening thud echoed, followed by grunts, then the sound of bodies hitting the pavement.

I screamed, begging for everything to stop. My lungs burned, air ragged, and I'm pretty sure they gave out at some point. My vision blurred, swimming in dark spots, the world tilting crazily. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but I was too weak, too overwhelmed. The sounds of fighting faded, replaced by a ringing in my ears and a profound emptiness began to consume me.

The last thing I heard before consciousness finally slipped away was a warm voice, deep and comforting, whispering, "It's alright, love, I'll take care of you." I knew that voice. I knew that musky scent anywhere.

ALEX saved me.

Or perhaps, he simply claimed me.