Forced To Room With My Hockey Rival

Moxie's POV "You b***h!" Was the last thing I heard before I felt a sharp stinging pain across my cheek. My head snapped to the side, cheek burning where his hand landed. The taste of copper flooded my mouth as my teeth cut into the inside of my lip. I stumbled backward, and my shoulder struck the kitchen counter, pain blooming down my arm. I looked up in disbelief to see burning anger in the pair of eyes that stared back at me. “Dus..tin” my voice was broken as I called out his name in pain. This was the fourth time. Somehow, knowing that made it worse. Not because it was surprising. Not because I hadn’t expected it. But because a small part of me had still hoped it wouldn’t happen again. Months ago, if someone had told me this would be my life, I would have laughed. Back then my life had been… normal. The best a girl like me could even dream of. I had parents who loved me. I was their only child, and they would do anything for me. They would stay up late to help me study for exams and cheered the loudest at my hockey games. My mom used to braid my hair before practice when I was younger, saying it would keep it out of my face when I scored. My dad ran a small but successful company. He used to joke that someday I could take it over if hockey didn’t work out. Our house always smelled like coffee in the mornings and whatever my mom was cooking in the evenings. It was always full of love and laughter. And I had what I thought was the most perfect relationship. I had the crush of every girl. He was the most gentle, polite, and good-looking guy I had ever known. He opened doors for me. He carried my hockey bag when it was too heavy for me to lift. When I had late-night study sessions, he’d bring me hot chocolate and sit quietly beside me. Everyone said I was lucky, and I felt lucky. I was the star athlete dating the perfect boyfriend. My grades were high. Colleges had started sending recruitment letters because of hockey. My parents were proud of me, and my future felt bright and wide open. My future felt bright until the worst happened. An incident that turned my life around forever. That day was the worst day of my life, a nightmare I could never relive. It was raining heavily that night. I remember the police officer standing at our door, hat clutched tightly in his hands. His voice was calm as he relayed the most devastating news I could ever hear in my life. There had been a car accident involving a truck. The driver had lost control, and my parents died before the ambulance arrived. That day, I froze for the longest time and broke down in tears. Crying for hours and days nonstop. I screamed, asking the officers to let go of me so I could join them. I wanted to go onto that road, I wanted to be a part of the accident, and I wanted to go to my parents. I couldn’t believe it; they had left me all alone, and I had to live without the two people I had known my entire life. Just like that, the life I knew vanished. I couldn’t speak a word until after the funeral, until I saw my own parents being buried right before my very eyes. People hugged me and told me how strong I was. But strength wasn’t what I felt; I felt hollow. And while I was still trying to understand how my parents could simply… disappear from the world, my uncle stepped in. He said he would help manage my father’s company until I was old enough. That was a lie, and I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? He was family after all. But within weeks, the accounts were empty. The company was gone, and the house I had known my entire life was sold. Legal documents appeared that I didn’t understand. By the time I realized what had happened, everything my father had built was gone. So was my inheritance. My uncle stopped answering my calls; he had totally abandoned me. I was seventeen and suddenly homeless. Without parents, money, or family to turn to, I went to the only person in my life who still stood by me. Dustin. He said I could stay with him. I remember how relieved I felt that night when he helped carry my suitcase into his apartment. He spoke gently, his hand resting comfortingly on my shoulder. “You can stay as long as you need,” he told me. “I’ll help you finish school, you don’t have to worry about the expenses,” he assured me, and he did. He paid the tuition for my final semester of high school. At the time, I felt grateful beyond words. I promised him I would repay every cent as soon as I started working. College was no longer possible. Without money or family support, it simply wasn’t realistic. But I told myself that was okay. I could graduate, get a job, save money, and slowly rebuild my life. That was the plan. Until the little fairytale I had been living in my head with my boyfriend came to an end. The first occurrence was on a Friday night, weeks after I moved in. He came home late that night, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. I had never seen him drunk before. He was loud, stumbling slightly as he dropped onto the couch. I was worried and approached him, wondering what might have pushed him to drink. I sat beside him and tried to take the bottle from his hand. “Maybe you should drink less,” I said gently. “You don’t look well.” The next moment, his hand struck my face. The force of it shocked me more than the pain. For a second, we both just stared at each other. He looked as stunned as I felt. Then he started apologizing. Over and over. He said he had been stressed. Said the alcohol messed with his head. Said he would never do it again. I couldn’t believe it, my perfect boyfriend had just hit me hard. Dustin swore it was the alcohol, and I wanted to believe him. So I did. I didn’t want to be pulled back into the cruel reality of life again. The second time happened two months later. His father’s business was in trouble. One afternoon, he stormed into the apartment looking furious. He told me his credit card had been suspended. Apparently, his father’s mistress had convinced the family to cut him off financially. He looked humiliated, and I tried to comfort him. “I’m sure it’s temporary,” I said softly. “Things will work out.” But he stared at me with something dark in his eyes. “You think this is funny?” he snapped. “I don’t—” My words never finished. His hand tangled in my hair and yanked my head backward. The next second, my skull slammed against the wall. The pain exploded behind my eyes. Stars burst across my vision as I collapsed onto the floor. When he sobered up the next morning, he apologized again. But at that point, the image of the perfect boyfriend I had in my mind was crumbling fast. That was when fear began to creep into my heart. But I still told myself it would stop. However, the third time destroyed that illusion. I had finally reached my limit. One evening, I gathered the courage to tell him I wanted to break up. My voice shook, but I forced the words out. “I’ll move out,” I said. “I’ll work part-time and repay the money you spent on my tuition.” For a moment, he stared at me in silence. Then his expression twisted with rage. “What do you think you’re saying? You belong to me,” he said. Those words sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to leave anyway, but he blocked the door. My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone and called the police in fear. It was the worst decision I could have made. When he realized what I had done, something in him snapped. He pinned me to the floor and started hitting me. I remember curling into myself, trying to protect my head while he shouted that I would never leave him. By the time he stopped, I could barely move. Afterward, he crouched beside me and grabbed my chin. “Next time,” he said coldly, “you obey.” I was too terrified to argue and only nodded mutely in pain. From that day on, I did exactly what he wanted. I started working part-time jobs after school to repay the money he had spent on me. I lived in fear of my own boyfriend. Dustin was no longer the man I knew or loved. Months passed like that, and finally it was my graduation. The day I walked across the stage should have been one of the happiest moments of my life. Instead, I stood there alone while other students celebrated with their families. Still, something unexpected happened. After the graduation, a modeling agency reached out to me. Due to my striking features, they took an interest in me, and I landed my first job after high school. I saved every dollar I earned as a model, and I kept a careful track of how much I owed Dustin. Eventually, his financial situation improved. His credit card was reinstated, and he began spending money again. When I finally saved enough money to repay the rest of what I owed him, I decided to try again. I rehearsed the conversation in my head for days. I would thank him for helping me finish school, give him the money, then leave peacefully. That night, I placed the envelope of cash on the kitchen table and told him everything. He stared at the money then he looked at me. “What is this?” he asked. “The rest of what I owe you,” I said. “And?” My heart pounded at how harsh he sounded. “And I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.” I finally said it, proposing a breakup. To my surprise, he laughed, it was a mocking and condescending one. “You think paying me back means you can leave?” He scoffed. “I’m grateful for what you did,” I said quietly. “But this relationship isn’t healthy.” The words barely left my mouth before his fist slammed into my stomach. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. I doubled over, gasping, and that was when the first glass shattered. Now I lay on the kitchen floor, the room spinning while Dustin towered above me. My ribs ached with every breath. He grabbed my hair and forced my head up. “You’re mine,” he snarled. “Got that?”