YOU WERE MEANT TO BE MINE

 RHENA'S POV

It is one thing to wait until someone decides you finally deserve answers, but it’s something completely different when someone thinks they have the right to control your every move. And that’s exactly what he did.

Alex, the drug dealer.

My boyfriend.

He didn’t just make decisions, he dictated my life, my space and my eating habits.

My hands shook as I shoved a handful of clothes into my bag. I wasn’t even choosing properly, just grabbing anything. I just needed to leave. I needed distance, safety, air that wasn’t choked by him, by his drugs. My cousin lived far, far enough that maybe he wouldn’t bother chasing me that far.

But my heart was racing so hard it felt like it was trying to break out of my ribs. Every zipper, every rustle of fabric sounded too loud. I didn’t want to be found by him.

I was halfway done when the front door slammed downstairs.

My blood froze immediately. That slam…

That heavy, sharp slam… Only he came home like that.

His footsteps followed, and my heart beat quickened more. I kicked the bag under the bed so quickly that I scraped my knuckles on the frame, but I didn’t dare react. I jumped to my feet, grabbing random items from the dresser, pretending, no, praying this looked normal.

The door burst open within few seconds. He didn’t knock.  He never knocked.

He filled the doorway with that cold, domineering presence that made the air in my lungs shrink. His gaze slid through the room before locking onto me.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low and hard enough to make me tremble.

My throat tightened but I forced the lie out. “Just… arranging my stuff. My room was messy.” He stared at me, and I could practically feel him dissecting the sentence for any crack.

“You’re terrible at lying,” he said, stepping farther into the room. “Don’t touch anything that isn’t yours while arranging the stuff. I hate people moving things around me.”

I kept my face still, even though a spark of anger burned in my chest.

He went straight to the closet, reached up, and grabbed a small locked box. The box. The one he guarded like it was treasure. He slid it into his jacket and turned back toward me.

“I’m expecting people soon,” he said. “Dealers. They’ll pick up what I prepared.”

I nodded quickly. “Okay.”

“Good.” He responded. “Stay here until I finish with them. Don’t try anything stupid.” He added then he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

The second his footsteps faded, I let myself breathe. A shaky, broken breath that felt like it scraped my insides. This was it, my moment. My only chance.

I dropped to my knees, yanked the bag back out from under the bed, and checked if anything had spilled out. My hands were trembling so badly I could barely hold the zipper.

I didn’t know how long he’d be downstairs. And if those dealers arrived while I was still inside…

No. I couldn’t think about that.

I pulled the strap over my shoulder, ran to the window, and pushed it open. Cold air rushed in, carrying the scent of freedom, or danger. Maybe both.

Voices floated up from downstairs. He was already talking to someone and I didn’t let myself hesitate.

Hesitation was death. I climbed onto the windowsill, my heart was hammering so violently but I pushed myself off.

I hit the ground harder than I expected, pain shooting up my leg, but I bit down on my lip and stayed silent.

And then I ran.

I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t afford to.

My feet pounded against the ground as I sprinted across the yard, ignoring the sharp sting in my ankle from landing wrong. I didn’t have time to feel anything not fear, not pain, only the burning instinct screaming at me to move.

The cold air slapped against my face as I rounded the side of the house and darted toward the narrow driveway where my old car was parked. My breath came out in panicked bursts.

I fumbled in my pocket for the keys, fingers slipping, shaking, refusing to work fast enough.

“Come on,” I whispered harshly to myself. “Please.. please”

Finally, the metal scraped against my palm. I yanked the keys out and nearly dropped them again.

A door across the street creaked open. I didn’t look, but I felt eyes on me.

The neighbors. Of course they would notice me running like my life was on fire.

But I didn’t stop. I didn’t care. I had to save myself.

Now or never.

I reached my car, yanked the door open, and practically threw myself inside. My chest was heaving so violently I could barely breathe. I slammed the door shut and locked it immediately.

The moment the engine roared to life, I didn’t even check the mirrors. I reversed fast, tires skidding across the uneven ground. I caught a glimpse of a neighbor on the porch, frowning at me, but I didn’t slow down. If they thought I looked suspicious, fine. If they thought I looked terrified, good. They were right.

He was downstairs with the dealers. He would notice soon. He would find the open window.

He would realize I was gone.

And once he realized that.

I didn’t let the thought finish. I pressed my foot hard on the accelerator and shot down the street, heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to escape too.

I sped down the street with my hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles were white. The houses blurred past, familiar walls and windows I’d stared at for years, now nothing but scenery I couldn’t wait to leave behind.

Every bump in the road jolted through me. Every shadow made me flinch.

The farther I drove, the more the neighborhood thinned out. Trees replaced the houses. The narrow road stretched toward the open highway like a lifeline.

My phone vibrated. Once. Twice. Three times. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. I swallowed hard and kept my eyes on the road. I wasn’t ready to answer him.

Not now. Not ever.

I pushed the phone away, shoved it under the seat, and locked my focus on the long stretch of highway in front of me.