The Starting Line

Chapter 31

When Eleanora was 18 years old, she had her first boyfriend. Well, she wouldn't really consider him a boyfriend, but he was close enough, he was in that weird middle ground between boyfriend and just a guy she hung out with. Besides, nowadays, Eleanora didn't like to think of him as her first boyfriend, because she knew that he was first in everything else and didn't deserve to be that too.

At first it was very good. He was funny, smart and a perfect gentleman. He would open doors for her, hold her hand, always ask before kissing her or doing anything. He was happy and thought that maybe it would be like this, that she would be one of those girls who would meet the person they were supposed to be with for the first time.

Then, as the semester progressed and they started to get a little more serious, it took a turn. He began picking fights, making her tell him what she was doing, where she was going and who she was with whenever she was not with him. Eleanora didn't think much of it at first, thinking that maybe he was just stressed and it would go away.

The first time he hit her, Eleanora locked herself in the bathroom of her bedroom and sobbed as she heard him shout and apologize on the other side of the door. She had curled up next to the sink, cradling her sore cheek as tears rolled down her cheeks and fear took hold of her heart.

They didn't last much longer after that.

Eleanora hadn't told many people about what he did, about what she went through. She only told one of her medical school professors, Dr. Baxton. She was a kind older woman who specialized in Trauma Surgery, and​ although the relationship passed, Eleanora could sometimes feel the pain and fear of it happening again it in the middle of the day. But also it's about Dr. Baxton, she didn't tell anyone.

She was sure some had figured it out, Max was at the top of the list because of his training. Eleanora had even noticed that Mark gave her some curious and sad looks sometimes when she turned away from a male patient who was a little aggressive, or how she seemed to curl into herself when people started yelling at each other.

The reason Eleanora never mentioned it to anyone was because she didn't want the feelings to return. The feeling that every good emotion and relationship in her life would be ruined, the pain would slowly sink into her bones and an unbearable weight would rest on her chest until she couldn't breathe.

That feeling was starting to build in Eleanora at that moment. Here she was, 27 years old, feeling like she did when she was 18. Because just like when she was 18, a man came in and destroyed everything around her when she least expected it.

This time, however, she had begun to accept that she would probably die. Eleanora had her hands pressed against her bleeding stomach, her head resting on her side and looking at Luke's corpse, sobbing, and knowing in her head that this was probably going to be it for her.