When Love Became Lost

Chapter 1

I had grown so use to hiding in the place I called my room, where I shut the whole world out and buried myself beneath blankets of cotton and endless walls. I would sometimes go days without food or water, not even realizing how dry my lips were or how flat my stomach had become. The curtains were the only thin barrier between me and the rays of sun that would try to sneak their way into the room, and only some nights would I dare to open them.

But here I was, in the last place I thought I would ever be.

Back in the place I once called home.

Where my parents raised me when not traveling the world, taking their career paths to the highest of places.

Where I escaped from the terrors that plagued me in my dreams.

Where Gustavo became the role model in my life that proved to be more than just a close friend or older brother but my everything; the one person I could always turn to no matter what to laugh or cry or just be sane.

Where I made many memories, new friendships, embarked on the plight that is high school.

Where I fell in love. My first love. My only love.

And also the place where I lost everything dear to me.

I never thought I would ever see my home again. My real home. Ky had made that much real when he blackmailed me into marrying him and took me away from everyone I loved to the other side of the world, to the very place that had started the end of my life. A place I once called a sanctuary where I felt most right to a place filled with pain and terror that only served as a reminder of the wrong that had been inflicted on me.

For almost two years, I lived in France with Ky. On my passport was his name stamped next to mine. I was his wife, he was my husband. The first few months were horrible. We got married with no official ceremony. No big dress. No big party. No big event of any sort. I couldn't have asked for anything more, it was not like I had wanted to marry him anyway. But when we went to the marriage registration office, it was easy and quick. Nothing at all like I had imagined. When I was younger, I had always wanted a big and beautiful wedding like the one my parents had. To be a beautiful bride marrying the person she loves. But not even my parents were there to see me be legally married. We had left America and my parents as nothing more than engaged.

And ever since leaving America, Ky cut off all contact with my friends and family. He became obsessive and controlling. When I refused to sleep in the same bed as him, he locked me in a room of my own and wouldn't let me out for days. When he tried to make love to me and I refused, he would throw me to the ground and beat me till I could see nothing but stars. He would often keep me locked up in my room without food and water while he would leave the house, pretending to be that good businessman everyone thought him to be. On those days where he would be gone, I would be thankful. It was okay that he left me alone, as long as he didn't come back and try to beat me till I bled. Or worse, try to make me sleep with him.

About three months of torture, abuse, and malnutrition, Ky started sending someone to check up on me. A woman would open my door to give me fresh food and water and clean clothes. The first time she came, I thought it was Ky and immediately fear filled my empty stomach. I braced myself for whatever he had in store for me and was surprised to see a petite French woman instead. She was a brunette with brown eyes, and she seemed just as startled by my appearance, but made no comment. She left what she had brought with her, a tray of food and a stack of clothes, and quietly left with a click of the lock turning in the door. I devoured the food she had brought within seconds, and immediately threw it all back up, my head leaning over the toilet. She continued to come day after day, leaving food and clothes. The real food that she would bring was hard to stomach down, and at one point I saw no point in eating if it was all going to come back up again anyway.