Author’s note/prologue

Hello fellow readers!

⚠️ I want to take a second to address something before you read any further. This book contains dark themes and scenes such as the following:

•r@p3

•assault

•abuse

•violence

•SH/AS

•blood

•drugs/alcohol

•vulgar

•some spicy scenes

And more

If none of this is to your liking, this book is not for you to read.

I wanted to create a book in a mostly male pov on mental health and what certain things in everyday life can do to a male. Men have this stereotype that they don't go through certain traumas and have to be strong in every sense of the word. And as a woman, I'm here to say that it's okay not to be okay. I see you, and I hear you. I'm also here for you. ❤️

So, if you're still interested please enjoy my book: Control.

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Jason

I'm running hard and fast down the street like someone with a machete is chasing me.

My breathing is rapid.

My legs are about to give out.

But I keep going.

Cars are beeping at me.

I run blocks. I run miles.

I run past people walking their dog.

I run past the local convenience store.

I run past a lot of trees.

I run until I collapse on the pavement of the hospital entrance.

I stand up, shaking and wobbling like a baby giraffe trying to find its footing. The parking lot was loaded with cars but no one in sight. Just the security guard, standing by his booth.

The automatic doors open, and I stumble over to the front desk of the emergency room.

The receptionist looks at me concerned and smiles.

"How can I help you?" He asks

"My girlfriend... Ellie... Elena Bailey... she was brought in by an ambulance before. Where is she now?"

"Just a moment, sir." The receptionist says

I nod eagerly as I struggle to breathe.

It's so hard.

I bend over and put my hands on my knees to try and catch my breath. Just hoping. Praying. I don't believe in God, but today, I'm praying.

"Can I get her date of birth?" he asks

"November 2, 2008." I say

He types away as I get impatient, waiting to find out where my girlfriend is.

It takes him a moment and I look around, at the pamphlets on the desk, the wall hanging about vaccines and finding the nearest urgent care to get them. And the "we're here for all your care needs" posters.

I tap my fingers fast on the desk as I lean over, trying to steady myself and slow my breathing down.

"They're still working on her, kid." He finally says.

"Can I please go see her?" I ask impatiently.

"Unfortunately, no. If you'd like, you may see in the waiting room and I'll have a nurse come get you for updates."

I grunt and growl, as I begrudgingly go to the waiting room. I sit in the corner, as I throw my head back against the wall and close my eyes.

God, if you're listening, please hear me now. I'm sorry I never talked to you before, but please let Ellie be okay. I'll start believing. I'll do anything. Please... just let her live.