Light at the End of the Track

### Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Bruised, broken, and running out of chances, Bethany Darcy knows one thing for certain-if she stays, she and her three-year-old son, Noah, may never escape the nightmare they're living in. After years of enduring the violent cruelty of the man who was supposed to love them, Bethany makes a desperate decision: leave everything behind and disappear before it's too late. Seventy hours on the road takes her from California to the quiet town of Hudson, New York, where for the first time in years, she can finally breathe. No shouting. No fear. No walking on eggshells. Just the fragile hope of a fresh start. But the past doesn't let go easily. Ryder Williams has spent all twenty-eight years of his life in Hudson. Between running his tattoo shop, looking out for his three younger brothers, and staying close to his tight-knit family, he's never felt like anything was missing from his life. Until Bethany walks through his shop door asking for a job. Drawn to the sadness hidden behind her guarded eyes, Ryder quickly realises Bethany is carrying secrets far heavier than a suitcase. As feelings begin to grow between them, Bethany must decide whether she can trust someone again-or whether the darkness she escaped from is already closing in behind her. A gripping and emotional story about survival, healing, and finding love after trauma. Trigger warning: Will contain abuse Swearing

Complete Chapters 28 Rating 4.8 ( 59 reviews ) Age Rating mature {"language":"en","storyId":1745513,"genres":[{"name":"Romance","path":"/genres/romance"}],"authorName":"SarahWallace120","authorPath":"/sarah5405","status":"complete","lastUpdatedAt":1783846800,"chaptersCount":28,"rating":4.830508474576272,"reviewsCount":59,"ageRating":"mature"} Chapter 1 - The Escape Bethany's POV

Sixty hours on two different trains.

Sixty hours of trying not to fall apart.

Sixty hours since I packed two bags, grabbed my little boy, and ran.

Sixty hours since we escaped the monster.

I stared out of the train window, Noah asleep against my chest while our bags sat beside me, and wondered how the hell my life had ended up like this.

We were high school sweethearts once. He’d been the friendly, straight-A student every girl wanted, but he never seemed interested in any of them. I was the new girl—the one who got kicked out of her old school for breaking another girl’s nose.

Yeah, I was a bitch. The “bad girl” of the school.

But, somehow, the sweet boy only noticed me.

For the first three years, everything felt perfect. Maybe too perfect. Being with him softened me a little. I smiled more. I wasn’t so angry all the time. We went on dates, spent every second together at school, hung out with his friends, went to parties—did all the normal teenage things people write songs about.

We even got accepted into the same college. He studied business while I majored in art. Art had always been my thing. Growing up, I was never far from a sketchbook or a pencil, and eventually I even designed my own tattoos.

Said they weren’t “ladylike.” Said women shouldn’t mark their skin because it made them stand out too much and look less feminine.

I should’ve seen the warning signs then.

During our second year of college, I found out I was pregnant with Noah. I still don’t know how it happened when I took the pill religiously every morning, but despite the shock, I was happy. Really happy.

He wasn’t angry or excited. Just... indifferent.

At first, nothing changed. I still went to classes and spent my free time with him, but as the pregnancy progressed, everything became harder. I was exhausted all the time, and morning sickness hit me so badly during my second trimester that I could barely function some days.

That was when he started pushing me to quit college. He said I should stay home and raise our baby, just like his mom had done. Apparently, that’s what “real ladies” did.

He didn’t like the idea of his girlfriend having a career and being a mother. And because I was young, stupid, and hopelessly in love with him... I agreed.

It wasn’t until after Noah was born that I truly realized how much he’d changed.

First, it was my clothes. He said my ripped skinny jeans and tank tops showed too much skin. So I swapped them for plain jeans and oversized sweaters, covering myself up because it made him happy.

Then it was my friends. He always had a reason why they were bad influences or why I shouldn’t spend time with them. After months of excuses and cancelled plans, they stopped calling altogether.

Eventually, I wasn’t allowed out of the apartment without permission.

If Noah needed diapers or we needed groceries, I had to ask first.

One afternoon, I texted him to say we needed diapers and asked if I could go to the store. He never replied. After waiting over an hour, I decided to go anyway.

The store was only a fifteen-minute walk away. I bought what we needed and came straight home. The second I walked through the apartment door, he exploded. He screamed that he had never given me permission to leave.

Over the next year came more slaps. Then punches. Then kicks.

One night, he beat me so badly I couldn’t move from the floor for nearly four hours. But when Noah started crying in his crib, screaming for me, I forced myself up. I dragged myself across the apartment using the couch and the walls just to reach my son.

I never went to the police. I was too scared of what he’d do if I tried. And I had nobody left to turn to.

My dad died in a car crash when I was little, and my mom and I stopped speaking after a huge argument when I left for college. She hated my relationship choices. She doesn’t even know she has a grandson.

That was the day I decided I’d had enough. I couldn’t let Noah grow up in that apartment. I couldn’t risk him becoming the next target.

I bought train tickets in secret and used the small amount of money I’d managed to save. The next morning, when he left for work at his uncle’s accounting firm, I packed one bag for me and one for Noah. I stuffed his tiny backpack with toys, called a cab, and went straight to the train station.

And now, here we are. Somewhere between our old life and whatever comes next.

I found a small town a couple of hours outside New York. Quiet. Safe-looking. Nothing like California. Hardly anybody there. Perfect for disappearing.

Movement stirred in my arms, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked down to find Noah blinking up at me with sleepy blue eyes.

“Hey, gorgeous boy,” I whispered with a smile, hoping he couldn’t see the fear hiding underneath it. “Did you sleep well?”

He nodded, rubbing at his eyes with a tiny fist. “Are we nearly there yet, Mommy?”

“Almost, baby. We just need to catch a bus to our new home.”

He nodded again before turning back to the window, watching the trees blur past outside.

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### Chapter 2: Chapter 2

“There you go, buddy. All done,” I said to my last client of the day as I wiped down the fresh ink on his left arm. 

“Perfect as always, Ryder. Appreciate it, man,” Vinny replied, admiring the tattoo in the mirror.

“I’ll wrap it up for you. Don’t forget to stop by the front desk and pay Tori before you leave.”

I covered his arm with plastic wrap, shook his hand, and watched him head toward reception.

A second later, I heard him laughing with Tori while I cleaned up my station. Most guys who walked into the shop ended up lingering longer than necessary just to talk to her.

But at thirty-two, she was a little older than me, and older women had never really been my thing. Besides, she was basically my best friend. We’d grown up on the same street, and she spent most of our childhood causing chaos alongside me and my brothers.

Some people found it weird that my best friend was a woman, but honestly, I’d never cared what people thought.

Caine was a different story, though.

My younger brother had been obsessed with Tori since we were kids. He flirted with her constantly, stared at her whenever he thought nobody was looking, and found excuses to be around the studio way more often than necessary.

Tori never openly admitted she felt the same, but I wasn’t blind.

The swollen lips. The flushed cheeks. The way they disappeared together for suspiciously long periods of time.

Yeah. Something was definitely going on.

Neither of them realised I’d noticed, though, and I was waiting patiently for one of them to finally crack and admit it.

The bell above the studio door chimed, followed by a familiar voice.

Just to piss him off, I shouted back before Tori had the chance to answer.

“Aw, Caine, I didn’t know you thought I was beautiful.”

“Piss off, jackass,” he called back instantly.

I burst out laughing, joined by Tori behind the desk. After years of knowing us, she was more than used to our bullshit.

“Got any plans tonight, Tori?” Caine asked while I stepped out from the back room.

“Not that I know of.” She glanced down at the appointment book before looking up at me. “Which reminds me—you still haven’t put the ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window.”

She pointed an accusing finger at me, the other planted firmly on her hip.

“It’s ready, woman. Relax. I’ll put it up now, happy?” Sarcasm dripped from my voice, which earned me exactly the reaction I expected.

Tori swung for the back of my head, but for once, I was ready and dodged it.

Caine snorted. “She’s got a point.”

Ignoring them both, I grabbed the sign and started taping it to the front window. We desperately needed another receptionist. Between answering calls and greeting walk-ins, Tori and I were constantly being pulled away from tattooing.

“So... if you’re free tonight, wanna grab a drink?”

Tori looked up from counting the register. “Getting desperate now, are we? That’s, what, the fifth time you’ve asked me this week?”

“I’m not desperate,” he defended with a grin. “I just wanna have a few drinks with the most beautiful woman in Hudson,” he finished with a wink.

Tori hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. I’ll think about it,” then she disappeared into the back office with the cash box.

An evil idea instantly formed in my head.

The second Tori came back out, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my side, “how about drinks with me instead, darlin’?” I whispered dramatically near her ear.

The entire time, Tori kept her eyes locked on Caine, clearly waiting for his reaction.

I swear I could actually see the vein pulsing in his temple.

Tori slowly turned toward me, our faces only inches apart. “I’d love to.”

“What the fuck?!” Caine exploded.

I immediately stepped back, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. “I’m kidding, bro. Jesus, calm down.”

Tori chuckled before slipping her arm through Caine’s, “come on, handsome. You can buy me that drink. I’m suddenly feeling very parched.”

I watched them leave the studio together, grinning to myself the entire time.

Those two were eventually going to end up together. Honestly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

After shutting off the lights, I locked up the studio and headed toward Gypsy’s. A couple of beers sounded perfect after the day I’d had.

On the way, I called my parents.

My dad answered on the third ring.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Heading to Gypsy’s for a few drinks with Caine and Tori before I go home. You and Mom there tonight?”

Gypsy’s Bar was basically the heart of Hudson. It was the only real bar in town, so everyone ended up there eventually—whether they wanted a quiet drink after work or a full night out.

“Already here,” Dad said. “Haven’t seen Caine or Tori yet, though. Not sure what’s taking them so long.”

“They’re probably making out in some alley somewhere. You know what those two are like.”

Dad laughed under his breath. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“You grabbing me a beer while I’m walking there?”

“That’s why you’re my favourite old man.”

Before he could complain about the old man comment, I hung up and slid my phone back into my pocket, then I carried on toward the bar, already thinking about that first cold beer hitting the back of my throat.

Authors can write and upload their manuscripts on Inkit for free and writers retain 100% of their copyrights while writing on Inkitt

Readers can read all books for free, without any ads and give the authors feedback.

Books that perform well based on their reader engagement are published on our Galatea app.

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