**Chapter 1: Trapped in Darkness**

Ashley Frangipane stared blankly at the peeling paint on the wall of her small apartment, her mind numb to the world around her. At 19 years old, she felt like she was drowning in a sea of despair, suffocating under the weight of her toxic relationship with Zachary. He was 28, nine years her senior, and had a grip on her that seemed impossible to shake. As she sat on the couch, her eyes wandered to the bruise on her cheek, a souvenir from their latest argument. Zachary had a short fuse, and she had learned to walk on eggshells around him, never knowing when his mood would shift from calm to explosive. The memory of his angry face, his eyes blazing with fury, made her shudder. Ashley had met Zachary at a club in downtown Newark, where he was working as a bartender. He was charming, charismatic, and had swept her off her feet with his smooth talk and good looks. But that was before the drugs and the anger took over, consuming him whole. At first, it was just pot and occasional pills, but over time, Zachary's addiction had escalated to harder stuff. Ashley had tried to help him, to be supportive, but it seemed like the more she tried, the more he pushed her away. And when he was high, he became a different person - aggressive, paranoid, and violent. Despite the warning signs, Ashley had stayed, convinced that she could change him, that she could be the one to help him overcome his demons. But the truth was, she was trapped. Zachary had a way of making her feel guilty, of making her believe that she was the problem, that she was the one who was flawed. As she sat on the couch, Ashley heard the sound of the door opening, and her heart sank. Zachary was home, and she knew that his return would bring a storm. She tried to prepare herself, to steel herself for the abuse that was sure to follow. "Hey, Ash," he said, his voice slurred, as he stumbled into the room. "What's for dinner?" Ashley hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She had cooked his favorite meal, pasta with meatballs, but she wasn't sure if that would be enough to placate him. "I made pasta," she said quietly, trying not to make eye contact. Zachary dropped onto the couch beside her, his eyes scanning the room, his expression darkening. "You didn't do the dishes," he growled, his voice rising. "What's wrong with you?" Ashley felt a familiar knot form in her stomach, as she realized that she was in for a long night. She tried to stay calm, to think of a way to defuse the situation, but Zachary's anger was like a powder keg, ready to ignite at any moment. And as she looked into his eyes, she wondered how she had ended up here, trapped in this toxic relationship, with no clear escape in sight.