Recovery

Chapter 1

A/N

It's finally here! Id just like to put that this book will be more intense than my other books. There will be mature themes (depression, self harm, etc.) and reader discretion is advised.

Characters in this book will do things that I would never do, and that I don't advise anyone else to do.

I'm writing this book to show how common it is, how people who seem fine can be 'troubled', and how much horses can heal.

With all that said, I hope you enjoy this story!

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Chapter 1

I look around the small convenience store. There's a nerdy looking teenager standing behind the counter, a look of boredom plastered over his acne covered face.

Business doesn't seem too good, and I almost feel bad that Chey and I are going to steal from them.

Almost.

But a soda isn't really too awful a crime, is it?

"Coke or Pepsi?" Chey asks, opening the refrigerator display.

"Coke, obviously," I laugh, rolling my eyes and grabbing two. I let the door fall closed, before turning to Chey and giving her an overly enthusiastic wink. "Work your magic."

She struts up to the cashier, and starts shamelessly 'flirting' with him- and, being the not-so-attractive guy he is, he's captivated by her.

If I were him, I would be, too. Her long black hair flows in waves down her back, and her green eyes look like that of a cat, giving her an almost exotic look. She flashes him a smile, exposing her perfect white teeth.

I laugh internally- this was almost too easy.

I inconspicuously place the Cokes in my purse, before shuffling out of the store. Once I'm back to the car, I climb in and wait for Chey to get back.

After a minute or two, she swings open the door to the passenger side, and takes a seat beside me.

"Too easy," she chimes blithely. "Give me my drink."

I smile and toss her the Coke, then turn the key in the ignition.

"Chey," I state softly as we drive down the winding road. "When are you going home?"

"I don't want to talk about this right now," she whines, looking over at me.

"Come on Chey- you haven't been home in two weeks. So they didn't tell you you were adopted. You should be over it by now," I huff. I know I'm coming off as harsh, but I can't help it.

"They've been lying to me my whole life Grace. Of course you wouldn't understand, what with your perfect existence.

"You know as well as I do that's not true," I whisper, subconsciously pulling my sleeves down over my wrists. Old habits die hard.

After a beat of silence, she replies "I know. I'm sorry. I just don't want to deal with them yet."

"You know they're still your parents, right? They raised you. They love you Chey. Sooner or later you're gonna have to go back."

"Well I'd rather make it later," she huffs, toying with a strand of her hair.

"Then come stay with me- I worry about you living alone with Justin," I sigh, grabbing her hand- which she quickly pulls away.

"I like living with Justin- he loves me," she almost whimpers. I grab her wrist and pull up her sleeve, exposing purple bruises where someone held too tightly on her arm.

"THIS isn't love, Chey. This is abuse," I whisper, before pulling the sleeve down to cover the bruises again.

"That was an accident- he would never hurt me," she states furiously- the sad thing is that she believes it.

"Chey, he already did," I quietly state.

This isn't the first time we've had this conversation. Last week, I noticed a splotch of purplish blue on her cheek. At first, she told me she had fallen down the stairs. After I pried more, she admitted he had hit her.

"But it was an accident," she had quickly added.

But it wasn't an accident.

"Chey, I don't trust him. Please just stay with me till things with your parents cool down," I beg. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't- fine, I'll come stay with you for a few days," she murmurs.

A sigh of relief escapes me. I don't like Justin. To say their relationship is toxic is an understatement. They fight like crazy, yet there convince themselves that they love each other. He makes her depressed and hopeless, and she hangs on his every word.

When he hits her, she says it's her fault. It's not her fault.

I take a swig if my coke, thoughtfully swishing it around my mouth.

"Should I just drive home?" I ask.

"No I need to drop by the apartment first," she states. "I need to grab a few things- and let Justin know I'm staying with you."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Will he get mad?"

"No, I'm sure he'll understand," she chuckles. "Have a little faith in him Gracie."

I groan at her use of my childhood nickname, but she just giggles at my displeasure. She knows how much I hate that nickname.

"Don't go there Chey- it's bad enough my parents named me Grace. When you call me Gracie, it makes me sound like a dog," I exasperatedly order.

"Come here Gracie," she laughs in a singsong voice, patting her legs as if she's calling a dog to her.

I bang my head on the back of my chair, before pulling into her apartment area.

"Do you want me to come in?" I ask, looking over at her.

"No that's okay- I'll be fine," she replies hesitantly, opening her car door. I look at her questioningly, but she just says, with a bit more confidence, "I'll be fine."

She gets out of the car, and walks towards the entrance. I watch her receding figure till she's out of sight, when I pull out my phone.

I have a missed text from my mom asking me where I am, but that's it. I roll my eyes and put it in my pocket, ignoring the text from Mom.

I turn the radio up, flipping through channels trying to find a station I can tolerate, but to no avail. My generation has seriously gone downhill in music. Nicki Minaj and Justin Bieber are living proof of this.

I wait anxiously for Chey to come back down, constantly glancing at the window. But she doesn't come.

After an eternity, my phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket, and glance at the screen.

Anger floods through me at the sight of it.

'Sorry Grace, I changed my mind. Staying up here with Justin <3'

But I know one hundred percent that she didn't send that text, and for two reasons.

1.) She never capitalizes anything in texts, not does she use periods or commas. She has horrible text grammar.

2.) She always refers to Justin as 'the bf,' 'J' or 'my boo.' She never calls him by his full name in texts.

Which means Justin took her phone and sent that text.

Infuriated, I climb out of the car, locking the door behind me.

This has to end- and since Chey is too fearful and manipulated to do it, I have to.

Justin has no idea the beast he's awaken.

A/N

Hey! Hope you liked the first chapter! more to come!