Chapter 1

Melissa

Five Years Later

My name is Melissa Molly Miller, and I am 21 years old. I have lived in Los Angeles for five years. After my mother passed away, my father and I left San Francisco to start a new life. We never went back there again. Sometimes I feel nostalgic about my childhood town, but I try to put that feeling aside. My godfather and godmother live there and every year I get letters from them on my birthday and during Christmas, but I never reply. I feel very bad because I know that they consider me as their daughter. The last time I saw them was at my father's funeral, they offered me to come back and live with them at least for a while, but I didn't accept. The main reason is their son and the fact that my godfather is the president of the motorcycle club doesn't help either. As much as I was cherished during my childhood by the bikers, I hated the environment during my teenager. I was constantly monitored and woe to me if anyone saw me with a boy other than their son. He was my best friend growing up, but after that nothing went as planned. Even though I couldn't stand the way he treated me anymore, it was remorse that made me ask my father to leave his favorite city. I couldn't look at him anymore without thinking about what I had done. I knew he was never going to let me go so I had done the only thing I could do, make him think I cheated on him. I still feel bad about it, but I had to do it because it couldn't hurt more than if he had found out the truth. I touch the necklace I wear that has my parents' wedding ring and the one he gave me. Every time I look at that ring, I feel nostalgic of our childhood, those were the best times of my life.

I spent all day today in a bar studying. I just broke up with my boyfriend because I caught him fucking my best friend. Ex-best friend. I knew he would have gone to the library to look for me so I chose to go to the last place he would think to find me. I suspected he was cheating on me since I never slept with him, but I didn't think he would do it with my best friend. I told him that I was abstaining until I got married but maybe he thought I would open my thighs for him sooner or later. He's on the soccer team and a lot of girls are hanging around him but I've never been jealous. And honestly, I think I'm even relieved that he's not in my life anymore. I never felt anything for him. I think I got involved with him just to avoid thinking about the one I have real feelings for.

I look around me, there are only people who seem happy with their friends, their boyfriends. And me, I am the stain in this beautiful picture, I am alone, I have no one. No mother, no father, no boyfriend, no friend, no one. Am I happy? I don't remember being happy for years. After my mother died of cancer, I lost my taste for life. I had lost my pillar, the one who understood me the most and the only one who understood my desire to leave. I mourned for almost three years and as soon as I started to get my life back together, my father had to die of a heart attack. I will never forget that day when I woke up and found him on the kitchen floor. I asked that my father be buried next to my mother in San Francisco, I didn't go, I couldn't bear it. The next few days were horrible. I didn't leave my house for almost two weeks. I wonder if anyone would miss me if I were to die. My phone rings, it's Olivier again, my ex. I decline the call and decide to leave the bar as it starts to fill up. I go out and head to the apartment I shared with my ex to get all my stuff. I put on my headphones and start my playlist to cut myself off from the world. I take the small alley next to the bar as a shortcut, there is nobody.

Out of nowhere, a man comes in the opposite direction. I have a bad feeling; I turn around to go back but another man blocks my way. I take it upon myself.

- "What do you want?", I ask them

- "holà seniorita", says the one on my right. "Nothing special we just want to discuss".

By pure instinct, I hit one of them in the balls to run away. He yells insults in Spanish. I start to run but he catches me by the hair and slaps me. I fall to the ground, blood drips from my mouth and stains my little white dress.

- "puta", the other man says, hitting me in the stomach.

It hurts so much that I want to vomit.

- "help", I shout.

- "go ahead, yell louder", the other one mocks.

One by one, they keep hitting me harder and harder. My abdomen hurts so much, I try to curl up, but it doesn't stop the pain.

- "Go check that no one is walking by," says the one I hit in the balls. "Now we're going to have some fun you and me. You're cute you know," he tells me. "una pequeña bomba."

He moves closer to me and puts his dirty hands on my breast, which he pinches. I scream so loud; he tries to take off my bra. I wonder if this is God's way of punishing me for my sins. I'm probably going to die in this little alley.

I start to struggle again and then I notice a rock next to me. I pick it up and hit it on the head. My survival instinct takes over. I grab my bag, take out my pepper spray and run. I walk into the first store I see. I feel so bad I know I'm going to pass out.

- "Please help me," I yell.

A woman seeing my condition quickly walks over to me. I fall to the ground and lose consciousness.