I didn't realize the shift at first.Maybe none of us did. Leo had always walked the razor's edge—charming one moment, unpredictable the next—but there was a period when the changes in him weren't just noticeable; they were frightening. Looking back now, Chapter Seven was the turning point of Amanda's life, the moment everything tilted toward the inevitable.
It began subtly, as most tragedies do.
Amanda started arriving late to work at the café, sometimes with her hands shaking, other times with her scarf pulled so tight around her neck that only a sliver of her face showed. When I approached her, she would force a smile—thin, trembling, rehearsed.
"I overslept," she would say."Just tired.""Nothing happened."
But her eyes told stories her mouth refused to speak.
One afternoon, while arranging pastries in the display case, I saw her wince as she attempted to bend. She froze midway, one hand pressed against her ribs as though something beneath her skin had cracked. I kept what I was doing and hurried to her.
"Amanda—what happened?"
"I bumped into a counter. It's nothing." Her voice was barely above a breath.
I wasn't convinced. I'd never been convinced. For days, I carried the unease like a stone in my stomach, but it was Amanda who finally allowed the truth to slip through the cracks.
It happened during closing hours.
Mr. Sam had already gone to the back to tally the day's sales, and Amanda and I were mopping the floor. She moved slowly, wincing every few strokes. Then her sleeve slid down, revealing a fresh bruise—dark, swollen, raw.
My mop clattered onto the floor.
"Amanda… that's not a fall. What is going on?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she lifted her sleeve further until I saw the full extent of it—a line of finger-shaped marks etched brutally into her skin. I felt the room spin. My chest tightened.
"What did he do to you?"
Her lips parted, trembling, but no words came. Her eyes glistened, and she dropped her gaze as though the tiles suddenly fascinated her.
"It's not what you think," she whispered.
"What? That he's hurting you? That he's controlling you? Amanda, these aren't accidents."
She looked at me then—really looked—and I saw fear living behind her pupils like a creature crouched in the dark.
"I promised him," she said quietly, her voice breaking. "I promised I wouldn't leave. That no matter what happens, I would stay."
"But why would you promise something like that?" I asked, stunned.
She swallowed hard. "Because… he was going through a lot. He told me things—family things, spiritual things—that scared me. And he said he only had me. So I promised. I said I would stay by him. I said I wouldn't break his heart."
"That's not a promise," I said softly. "That's a trap."
But Amanda only shook her head.
"You don't understand. If I leave him… he said he will destroy himself. And… he said he will destroy me."
For a moment, silence filled the café.Then she sank onto one of the chairs, her hands shaking violently.
"Leo is different now," she whispered. Most times he apologizes and cries and pleads with me not to leave him. Other times, he screams, throws things, and accuses me of trying to betray him. He follows me around… he checks my phone. He waits outside my house. He gets angry when I talk to anyone."
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away.
"I don't know who he is anymore."
I sat beside her, my heart thundering.
"You need help. You can't stay in this alone."
She shook her head again, harder this time."I can't. He won't let me."
At that moment, the backroom door creaked open, and Mr. Sam stepped out, carrying the day's accounts. He paused when he saw Amanda's tears.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concern etched into every line of his face.
Amanda tried to stand. "It's nothing, sir. I'm fine—"
Mr. Sam raised his hand gently. "Sit."
She obeyed.
Then he looked at me. I hesitated briefly—this was Amanda's secret, her pain to disclose—but something inside me refused to stay silent. I simply pointed at her bruises. Amanda froze.
Mr. Sam approached slowly, like a father approaching a wounded daughter.
"Amanda… who did this to you?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her lips tightened. Her eyes glistened.
"It was Leo," she whispered at last.
Mr. Sam let out a shaky breath and sat beside her.
"I suspected it," he murmured. "That boy… he has a darkness around him. I've seen it."
Amanda looked up sharply. "You have?"
Mr. Sam nodded. "I've lived long enough to recognize spirits that don't mean well. That boy is fighting something—and he's pulling you into his battle."
Amanda's tears spilled freely now.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered.
"Leave him," Mr. Sam said softly but firmly.
Amanda shook her head in panic. "I can't. I promised him—"
"Your life is more important than any promise you made as a scared girl," Mr. Sam cut in gently. "A man who loves you doesn't bruise you. A man who loves you doesn't isolate you. A man who loves you doesn't threaten harm. You are in danger, Amanda."
She covered her face with her hands.
"He said if I ever try to leave… he will do something terrible."
Mr. Sam exchanged a look with me—a look that said we were losing her to fear.
"Amanda," he whispered, "listen to me. Promises made under fear are not promises—they are chains. And chains can be broken."
Amanda sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking.
"He said he will marry me. He said we belong together. And… I believed him." She let out a shaky breath. "But now… every time I'm with him, I feel like I'm walking into a fire."
Mr. Sam placed a hand on her shoulder."The fire will burn you, Amanda. You need to walk away."
But she didn't respond. She simply stared at her lap, broken, trembling, afraid.
That night, as we locked up the café, the tension followed us out into the cold New York air. The streetlights hummed weakly, and the wind whistled between the buildings. Amanda and I walked slowly toward the train station. She clutched her bag tightly, constantly checking behind her as though expecting Leo to appear at any moment.
"Are you scared?" I asked.
She nodded, unable to speak.
We walked in silence until we reached the station steps. I hugged her tightly, wishing I could shield her from everything.
"Call me when you get home," I said.
She nodded, her breath shivering into the night, and descended the stairs.
I watched her until she disappeared from sight, a feeling of dread gripping my chest like a cold hand. Something was unfolding—something dark, inevitable, unstoppable.
I didn't know then that this chapter was the beginning of the end.
But I felt it.
Deep in my spirit, I felt it.
Amanda was slipping away, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hold her back from the storm that was closing in.
Amanda's tears spilled freely now.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered.
"Leave him," Mr. Sam said softly but firmly.
Amanda shook her head in panic. "I can't. I promised him—"
"Your life is more important than any promise you made as a scared girl," Mr. Sam cut in gently. "A man who loves you doesn't bruise you. A man who loves you doesn't isolate you. A man who loves you doesn't threaten harm. You are in danger, Amanda."
She covered her face with her hands.
"He said if I ever try to leave… he will do something terrible."
Mr. Sam exchanged a look with me—a look that said we were losing her to fear.
"Amanda," he whispered, "listen to me. Promises made under fear are not promises—they are chains. And chains can be broken."
Amanda sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking.
"He said he will marry me. He said we belong together. And… I believed him." She let out a shaky breath. "But now… every time I'm with him, I feel like I'm walking into a fire."
Mr. Sam placed a hand on her shoulder.
"The fire will burn you, Amanda. You need to walk away."
But she didn't respond. She simply stared at her lap, broken, trembling, afraid.
That night, as we locked up the café, the tension followed us out into the cold New York air. The streetlights hummed weakly, and the wind whistled between the buildings. Amanda and I walked slowly toward the train station. She clutched her bag tightly, constantly checking behind her as though expecting Leo to appear at any moment.
"Are you scared?" I asked.
She nodded, unable to speak.
We walked in silence until we reached the station steps. I hugged her tightly, wishing I could shield her from everything.
"Call me when you get home," I said.
She nodded, her breath shivering into the night, and descended the stairs.
I watched her until she disappeared from sight, a feeling of dread gripping my chest like a cold hand. Something was unfolding—something dark, inevitable, unstoppable.
I didn't know then that this chapter was the beginning of the end.
But I felt it.
Deep in my spirit, I felt it.
Amanda was slipping away, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hold her back from the storm that was closing in.