Saved by the Marine

Chapter 3

It wasn't long after arriving in LA that I met Marc at the gym. I'd always liked keeping fit. I'd always found exercising to be therapeutic and I desperately needed stress relief. Moving to LA on my own and having just buried my only family member was a lot to deal with.

The perks of exercising being my only vice meant that I was in good shape. I had abs, toned legs and the ass that I'd always wanted. With my generous C cups, I had the desired hour glass figure. Aunt Bev used to say that I was a triple threat. A beautiful face, a great body and an even greater heart. I have long golden hair with a natural all year round glow to my skin. Light blue eyes and full lips. I was no stranger to male attention.

When I first saw Marc, I was drawn to him straight away. He was devilishly handsome. Dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. With golden skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was Italian. He went to the gym as regularly as I did. He was muscular with a six pack and the most perfect smile. Girls at the gym would break their necks trying to get his attention.

Even though I was fairly confident, I couldn't quite pluck up the courage to go speak to him. The man was mouthwatering, resembling a Greek god. It was honestly intimidating.

We'd throw smiles at each other here and there, but for the first month we never said a word to each other. Not until he approached me in the parking lot. I'd just finished my work out when I saw him running up to me. I felt the butterflies start to swarm when I saw him coming my way. He introduced himself and after some small talk he asked me out on a date.

I had the biggest crush on the guy. I probably said yes far too quickly and didn't play it as cool as I would have wanted. Our first date was promptly followed by many more. He was charming, funny, romantic and had a good job. He worked in IT, so he was pretty smart too. He was perfect. It was like he didn't have a single fault.

If something is too good to be true, it probably is or so the saying goes.

I guess you could call what we had a whirlwind romance. We quickly became a couple, moving in together after only a few months. His friends were great too. They'd tell me that they'd never seen Marc so happy before and that they could tell how much he loved me. I felt like I'd won the lottery with him.

About six months into the relationship, his behavior was starting to change and the facade he'd created was beginning to crack. He started to become controlling. He wanted to know where I was, what I was doing and who I was with. He would comment on what I wore, so wanting to please him, I dressed how he liked me to dress. I only ate food that he liked. At least he didn't stop me from going to the gym. Matter of fact, he would encourage it. Only because he didn't want me to get fat. But there were rules for the gym too. I could only go when he came with me and no more crop tops and leggings. I had to wear baggy joggers and loosely fitted tops or a hoodie. He had a say in everything I did.

I believed him when he said he just wanted the best for me. However, his really ugly side came out in the form of jealousy. I wasn't allowed to speak to other men and he'd get really pissed if he saw another man looking at me. If I tried to calm him down, he would accuse me of liking the male attention.

The accusations then evolved. He'd say I was cheating on him. He'd become completely enraged, calling me all sorts of names. I remember one of the times he was ranting about what a w***e I was and that he knew how much I loved men eye f*****g me. I was so fed up with him being so vile I snapped at him. I told him that I won't have him talking to me like that and that it was completely out of order calling me such awful names. This argument was the reason that he hit me for the first time. He slapped me so hard I fell to the ground. I remember holding my cheek and looking at him in disbelief.

I know you're wondering why I stayed with him and I often wondered that too. I loved him. I hoped he would change and I thought I could help him. Once he'd calmed down, he would be so remorseful and would beg for forgiveness. He would promise to never do it again, which of course he did. The lines between love and fear had become blurred.

When he'd have one of his jealous episodes, he would tell me that he'd never let another man have me. I was his. I'd once threatened to leave him if he didn't change and that he needed to get professional help. He broke two of my ribs that night. I was never foolish enough to say anything like that again.

I had told the hospital staff that I'd fallen down the stairs. I still remember the nurses swooning over how caring he was. He put on a good show. Fluffing my pillow and stroking my hair. He said I should be careful on the stairs because he'd be lost if anything bad happened to me. He'd make sure the nurses were in ear shot of course.

The nurses would say "Oh he's so sweet, I wish I had a man that cared for me like that. You are one lucky lady."

He loved all the praise he was getting. With his big stupid smile on his face. What an f*****g joke. I wish I could have left him that night but he always said that me and him were going to be together forever. The thing that always gave me chills was when he said "till death do us part". It's meant to be a loving vow you'd take on your wedding day but when he said it, it was a threat. This scared the s**t out of me. Now that I've actually left him, I hope that it was all a mind game. Scaring the idea of leaving him out of my head.

Tonight was the straw that broke the camels' back. Just when I think I've seen his worst, he surprises me.

Whilst sitting in my seat, my mind is racing. I'm starting to have doubts that leaving him was a good idea. I dread to think about what he'll do if he finds me.

I listen to the light chatter on the flight from the other passengers around me. The flight attendants start slowly making their way down the aisle with their trolley filled with goods. I try my best to block out the noise and I close my eyes trying to relax so I can drift off and that's how I spend the rest of the flight, trying to force myself to sleep in the hopes that my brain would shut off for a while, but sleep escaped me.

Once we landed, I'd got a coach to a town three hours away. I'd heard some passengers mention Driftwood springs and that they drove through it once. They said that it was a pretty town but didn't have much going on and that they found it to be quite boring. It sounded perfect.

It was morning by the time I got to town. I'd checked into a B&B. It was the only B&B the town had for that matter. My plan was to find a more permanent place to stay and get a job. I hadn't planned on staying here forever. Maybe a few months and then I'd go somewhere new. I would move around to make it harder to be found. I managed to get a little one bed apartment and a job at Big Als diner. I spent months looking over my shoulder. I was a nervous wreck. This town was really isolated though, so I eventually started to relax a little. I'd think about him every day, wondering if he was still angry that I left and whether he was looking for me.

My initial plan to move somewhere else changed when I discovered I was pregnant. We usually used protection when we had s*x but not on the night that he r***d me. I must have cried for two weeks straight before I concluded that this baby was my silver lining. This baby would save me in a way. I'd have something other than fear to motivate me.

I realized I couldn't raise a baby on the road. We needed a home and Driftwood Springs seemed the ideal place to raise a child. The people here were warm and welcoming. Everyone was kind. My boss was great about my pregnancy and said he'd help me anyway he could.

Obviously, I didn't tell people what led me to move here. I told anyone who asked that the father said he wasn't interested, so we broke up. I so wish that was how it happened.