He says he loves her, eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. She presses a quick kiss to his lips, smiling back.

"Have a good day," she wishes him, watching him grab his keys from the hook by the door. He nods and waves at her as he opens the door.

"I'll see you after work," he replies softly. "I miss you already."

"Miss you too." She stands stock still, sweater sleeves pulled taut over her hands, and watches him leave. Watches the door close, hears him walk down the steps. Hears the roar of his Charger's engine as it comes to life, the deafening music start up, the crunch of the gravel as his tires drive over it.

The cut under her eye burns as the sound of the car engine fades into nothing. The bruises developing around her forearms throb as she decides she has to leave.

There is nothing more for her here. No peace, fear palpable in the air at any given moment. No kindness, not in the way his hands grip her at night. No love, not in the blood that spills from her veins when he strikes her.

She considers her options, very briefly toying with each one.

There's multiple bottles of pills in the bathroom. Though she's not sure if they'll do the job as they're all generic.

Knives in the kitchen. His custom chef's knife is always sharpened. He takes better care of it than he does of her, which means if she fails he'll just finish the job, and she refuses to die by his hand.

She blinks, eyes wandering around the room, until they land on the door again. On her keys, hanging next to it.

Her car in the garage. Only her name on the registration.

And before she can blink again she's moving, grabbing the first backpack she comes across. She rifles through the drawers as fast as she can, pulling every one of her tees from the drawers and stuffing them in the bag as she goes. Done with the shirts, through the pants. She can only shove two pairs of jeans into the bag before it's full.

There's a bag tucked in the corner of the room, and she grabs it and dumps everything on the floor. She shoves her other two pairs of skinny jeans into it, then socks and underwear. There's enough room to fit a jacket and she trips over her feet trying to get to the closet.

She throws the door open and grabs the first hoodie she sees. She glances down and sees the colors, the pattern on the sleeves, the images on the front. His birthday present a few months ago, a limited edition hoodie from his favorite band. Their favorite band.

She looks at it, back at the jackets in the closet. He'll be angry enough over losing her as it is, but he might let her go if it's just her stuff.

But losing this hoodie? His hoodie? From the band that got him through his sister's death, through losing his childhood friend.

But it's her favorite band, too.

She's tired of backing down so he gets his way. She shoves the hoodie into her backpack and zips it up, looking at the rest of the clothes hanging there, then spies one more backpack. She grabs the two full ones and sets them by the back door before returning to grab the rest of her jackets. Two flower prints and one more band, and then she's got room for a little more stuff.

She grabs her laptop first. The extra key to her car. Phone charger. Passport. She rolls up the signed band poster he had been promising for months to hang on the wall and places it with care into one of the side pockets. She fills her sticker-plastered water bottle and puts it in the other side pocket. One last glance around the house as she grabs her keys and wallet tells her there's nothing else here she can't easily replace.

She slings one backpack over her shoulders, grabs one of the others, a hand on the doorknob, and stops. The cameras are going to give her away.

She drops the backpack, sprints downstairs, unplugs the router. Back up the stairs, pick up the discarded bag, open the door. Grab the other backpack and even though he can't see her, will only get a notification that there's movement in the backyard he'll think is a squirrel, she's moving as fast as she can down the patio to the garage. Press the button to open the door, throw the bags into her back seat. She starts her car and doesn't wait, pulling out of the garage down the driveway into the alley, throwing her car into drive and speeding out of the alley down the street blowing a stop sign onto a main road onto an on-ramp onto the highway.

Her shoulders finally drop once she gets twenty minutes from the house and her phone doesn't light up with a call or text.

As she takes another on-ramp to the interstate, she realizes she doesn't have an end goal. No destination, nowhere to go. He'll track her card once he realizes she's gone, and then he'll find her.

And she doesn't know what he'll do then.

Though she knows it'll be worse than death. He won't kill her, and that terrifies her more than anything ever has before.

Her parents only live an hour away. Her sister is two away, in the capital, though he knows where her sister lives.

Her cousin, down in Nashville. She's only mentioned it once in passing. He won't remember it, which means it's as safe as she can get for the moment.

She grabs her phone and pulls up Google maps. First stop is the bank, to take out everything she's put into their account. Almost fifteen thousand dollars over the last two years. Enough to get back on her feet somewhere else. Somewhere better. Out of the country, maybe, where he can't find her.

Once directions are pulled up, she realizes she's only five minutes from the nearest branch of her bank, though it's back the way she came from. She takes the next off-ramp, then the on-ramp across from it to turn around.

Once she's pulling into the parking lot she's on guard again. Who knows if she might see someone he knows here, someone who will tell him what she's up to. Someone who'll stall her until he can come fetch her and drag her back.

She reaches back and grabs one of the flower-print jackets and throws it on, throwing the hood up. As she walks into the bank, she's aware of how suspicious she looks but it doesn't really matter.

Thankfully, it's an odd time of day and there's almost no one in the building. The teller she approaches gives her an odd look, but thankfully doesn't react otherwise.

"Hello, how may I help you today?" the teller asks. She glances around furtively, double-checking she doesn't know anyone in the building before replying.

"I'd like to make a withdrawal," she says quietly.

"Of course!" the teller exclaims, resting his hands on his keyboard. "What's the name on the account?"

She wordlessly pulls her driver's license out of her wallet and slides it over to him. He furrows a brow but doesn't question it, simply glancing between her and the photo before nodding.

"How much would you like to withdraw?"

"Fifteen thousand." She blinks when he gives her an incredulous look.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" he questions, pausing his typing. "That's an awful lot of money. Well over half of what's in the account."

"I know," she whispers. "Please. I'm in a hurry."

"Of course." He resumes typing, pausing in the middle to slide her license back.

A few minutes pass, and then finally he prints out a check and slides it across the counter. She goes to pick it up but she doesn't move his hand from it.

"If you'd like, we could open a new account for you," he murmurs. "He won't be notified of it, and I can add a note that even though you're on an account with him he's not allowed to know about this one if he were to ask."

She considers. This is an awful lot of money to just have.

"Can you give me a card today?"

"Yes." The response is immediate. She bites her lip and nods, taking her hands from the check.

"I just need a few things from you." The teller sets the check to the side and pulls out a blank piece of paper. "We've got most of the basic information from your other account. I just need to verify your social security number and I need a safe address."

"Okay." She curses internally as her voice breaks and pulls out her phone, searching for her cousin's address and hoping he hasn't moved without telling her. She jots it down quickly, followed by her social security. The teller takes it and types away for only a minute before picking up the check, wordlessly handing it to her to sign and depositing it.

"If you hold on just a moment, I can get you that debit card," he says. "Just needs to be activated. I'll be right back."

She watches in silence as he strolls around a corner, and she hopes she hasn't met him before and just forgot. That he's not using the card as an excuse to call him.

Once a few minutes go by, she's casting glances over her shoulder at the only door to the building. This was such a stupid idea, she should've just grabbed the check and ran and opened a new account once she reached her cousin.

"I'm so sorry about the delay!" The teller rounds the corner rapidly, voice raised and she can't help the full-body flinch at his sudden appearance. He stops in his tracks and takes a deep breath, guilt flashing across his face.

"It's okay," she whispers. "The card?"

"Of course." He takes his seat and slides the card across the counter to her, along with a paper with hastily scrawled numbers and websites. "These are numbers of organizations you can call that could help you. Lawyers, shelters, financial aid. Websites too."

"Thank you." She takes the card but leaves the paper and walks as fast as she can out of the bank, almost running into a woman as she goes.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying-oh."

She looks up into the woman's eyes and stumbles back a bit, back hitting a wall as she stares at his mother.

"What're you doing here?"

She glances towards the bank teller, who's watching them curiously, worry furrowing his brows, then towards her car, haphazardly parked with the rush she was in.

"What's going on, honey?" His mom reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her thumb up and down in a calming movement. Tears sting the corners of her eyes as she looks at the woman, unable to form the words to tell her what her son had been doing.

"I'm leaving," she finally spits out. "I can't stay here. Not with him."

"Not with..." his mom trails off, teeth clacking shut. A look of fury crosses her face as she twists her ring around her finger. "I can't believe it."

And oh, fuck, his mom is going to call him, going to tell him about what she's doing, how she was trying to abandon him, and she's going to have to go back to him, and he's going to-

"I believe you!" his mom exclaims, taking her hand from her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I believe you. I just don't understand why he would do this to you, after what he saw his dad do to me. After what his dad did to him."

"I'm sorry," she chokes out. "I have to go."

His mom nods, reaching out and wiping away her tears.

"You can call me if you need anything," she whispers. "I know what it's like to escape. I know how much it sucked. I'm only one call away if you need help."

She nods frantically, slipping her hand into her pocket and grabbing her keys.

"Thank you."

"I've always loved you." His mom smiles, tears in her eyes. "Love you like my own kid. I'm sorry my son couldn't love you the way you deserve."

No words seem like enough to reply, so she just nods in response and turns and walks away, toward her car. She slides into the driver seat and turns on her car and pulls up her cousin's address on her maps app, speeding away as soon as it's loaded.