Losing Love

12

Hope's POV:

Dominic pulls away from our embrace.

It feels like it lasted a lifetime but I still crave for his touch.

He grabs my wrist gently and begins pulling me back towards the VIP lounge. "Dom" I whisper. He slowly turns around, he looks vulnerable for the first time. I was going to ask him who attacked him last night but I couldn't take advantage of his vulnerability at this moment so I decide against it.

"You can go inside, I'll stay out here for a while." I smile slightly.

He nods his head and slowly turns back around, he limps back into the VIP lounge and closes the door, not completely but just enough to keep the cold air out.

I turn back and lean against the railings while crossing my arms to keep me warm.

I watch the city.

I hear footsteps approaching me from behind and assume that Dominic came back outside. I continue to watch the city with my back facing the man.

I hear something hard fall to the floor and slide over to my foot.

I pull my eyes away from the captivating lights and look down at my heels. Laying next to them is my phone.

I look back up at the person and quickly realise that it's not Dominic, it's Ryder.

My heart skips a beat but my face remains neutral.

I bend down to pick up my phone, not saying a word to Ryder. The screen is shattered but it still turns on. I go to my chat with Dominic. The message I supposedly sent to him last night wasn't there. He deleted it.

I look up from my phone and give Ryder a quick fake smile before hurriedly walking by him to get inside.

Once I pass him, I let out a breath that I didn't realise I was holding back until I feel Ryders hand grip around my wrist and pull me back forcefully. I turn around to face him. He lifts his free hand up and harshly grabs my face.

He aggressively pulls my face closer to him so that I'm just inches away from him. His eyes are bloodshot red.

"You cheating on me?" he growls out.

The pungent smell of whiskey fills my nose making me want to pass out.

"Of course not!" I shriek, confused by where he got the idea from.

Suddenly, I feel stinging across my left cheek and my vision becomes blurry with tears.

The bitch slapped me.

"DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME" he screams. "JUST ADMIT IT, YOU'RE A FUCKING WHORE".

"I'M NOT LYING" I scream back defensively. Not many things piss me off, but being called a whore for no reason really does.

"IM-NOT-FUCKING-STUPID" Ryder exclaims, punching me hard between each word.

I'm on the floor now. My lip is bleeding, so is my eyebrow, and I can already feel bruises starting to form on my face, neck, and chest.

Ryder doesn't say a thing as he repetitively kicks me. On my stomach, on my back, my legs, my arms. He kicked me everywhere. It felt like hours of pure torture. I can barely breath when he stops. His hand on his knees as he leans over taking deep breaths.

His chestnut hair falls over his forehead as he looks completely blitzed. He was always the worst type of drinker, he is the aggressive type.

The first time I got drunk with Ryder was when I was 16 and he was 18. He had pushed me against the wall and banged my head against it till I passed out because I spilled his drink on him. The morning after he somehow convinced me it was all a dream and that I had just drunk too much.