“Take my hand,” he says as he stands in the middle of the basement, looking right at me hiding in the corner, surrounded by boxes and toys. I don’t understand how he can see me or how he can tell that I’m afraid, but he can. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you—I’ll protect you.”

I shake my head, not daring to move. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he encourages, stepping toward me. “It’s going to be okay.”

“But I’m too scared,” I whisper in horror as sounds fill the house, one’s of pain and destruction.

He kneels down in front of me, his hand still extended out. “She scares me too, but if there’s two of us, maybe things won’t be so scary.”

I hesitate, then finally place my hand in his, crawling out of the corner. There’s a moment where I feel safe as he holds onto my hand, but then I hear the bang. I jerk back, my fingers slipping out of his and the safeness slips from my body as he’s pulled away from me. Stolen by his mother as she starts to sing that stupid song, the one that ruined my life.

My eyelids snap open as I suck in a large breath of air, fighting my lungs to keep breathing, my body to keep thriving, my mind to stay intact as I grasp into the edge of the seat.

“Violet, breathe,” Luke says from beside me. The truck has stopped moving and the sun is up in the bright blue sky, so I can see the worry on his face. He opens his arms to lean in and hug me, but I can’t let him right now, not when the feelings from the nightmare still linger under my skin.

“I’m okay,” I say in a hoarse voice, leaning back against the door and catching my breath. “I was just having a nightmare.”

Luke is the one person in the world who knows what my nightmares are about and I can tell it’s difficult for him not to say anything about it, but he manages to keep his thoughts to himself and grabs the door handle to get out of the car. “The truck needs gas,” he mumbles, trying to shake off my refusal to let him help me. “Why don’t you run in and get something to eat?”

I nod and then wait for him to get out before I climb out myself. I still have my dress on and heels on from yesterday, which are getting really uncomfortable so I grab some fresh clothes from my bag that’s in the back of the truck and head inside the gas station bathroom to change. I put on my Nirvana T-shirt and a pair of jeans, then slip on some flip-flops and pull a beanie over my head so I don’t have to waste time doing my hair. I don’t bother with makeup but I do put some deodorant on before heading out.

I wander up the aisle, checking my phone messages before deciding to call and ask Greyson if he can fill in for me at work, despite how much I don’t want to because it’s asking for a favor. But I don’t have another choice right now.

He answers after four rings, obviously just waking up because I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “What’s up?” he says with a yawn.

“I need you to take over my shifts at the diner for the next week,” I say, grabbing a bag of Cheetos from the shelf.

“Why? What’s up?”

I pick up a bag of M&Ms as well and then head for the soda section. “Nothing really. I just need a week off.”

He hesitates then says firmly, “No, I’m not going to.”

I’m opening the door to get a Dr. Pepper, but freeze. Greyson’s usually not rude like this to me. That’s more Seth’s thing and even he’s toned it down since we first met so I’m a little thrown off. “Why not?”

“Because you won’t tell me the real reason why.”

“There’s no real reason.” I grab two sodas then let the door shut as I head toward the cash register. “I just need a break. I already told you this.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Violet,” he says and it makes me cringe. I’ve never been one for letting people get to know me enough to read me, but apparently Greyson can. “Now, if you want to tell me the real reason why, then I’d be more than happy to fill in for you. But if not, then I guess I’ll see you tonight at the diner.”

“Fine.” I grimace. “I can’t make it to work because I’m on a little bit of a road trip.”

“With who?”

“Someone…”

“Violet.”

“Oh my fucking hell.” I drop the food and sodas on the countertop, ignoring the dirty look the fifty-year-old cashier lady gives me for my language. “I’m on the road with Luke okay… heading to Vegas.”

“What?” He’s shocked and I don’t blame him. During one of our little after-work-drinking-sessions we’ve been having, I’d accidentally let it slip out what happened between Luke and me, well some of it anyway. I’m usually good at keeping secrets to myself, but apparently having friends meant turning into a babbling girl who can’t keep her mouth shut or her problems to herself. “How the hell did that end up happening?”

“A freak accident, caused by destiny once again,” I say as I lay a ten-dollar bill down on the counter. “Look, I really don’t want to give anymore details because they’re really not mine to give. But you can call up Luke and see if he feels like telling you what’s going on.” The cashier lady gives me my change and the bag with my stuff as I put the money into my pocket.

“Fine.” Greyson sighs. “I’ll fill in for you, but you’ll eventually give me the details of how this happened and what happens while you’re on the road.”

“Alright, it’s a deal.” I push out the door and head for the truck, noting that Luke’s not there. He must be inside in the bathroom or something.

“And Violet?”

“Yeah?”

“If you need anything, you can call me whenever, okay?” Greyson says. “In fact, promise me you’ll check in.”

I have my hand on the door handle of the truck about to climb in when he says it, but I pause. I’ve never had anyone say that to me. Never had anyone worry about me enough to say it, well besides Luke. Not since my parents died. It makes me feel uneasy, out of my element, exposed, and I’m on the verge of tearing up like some kind of sap. God, what is happening to me? I used to be so tough.

I clear my throat several times before I speak again. “Okay, I will.”

“Good. And be careful... And try to stay out of trouble.”

“You sound like a parent.” I roll my eyes as I toss the bag of food into the truck and hop inside.

“That’s because I worry about you,” he says as I shut the door. “And care.”

I’m not sure how to respond and start choking up again, so I avoid saying anything. “I’ll call you later, okay.” I hurry and say then hang up, my hands slightly shaking as I put my phone into my pocket. Then I roll the window down, letting in some fresh air, and rest my head back, trying to figure out when Greyson and I became friends. I still haven’t told him a lot about me, like the stuff that’s been going on with Preston, my drug dealing, my adrenaline addiction, but apparently we’ve crossed some sort of line where he worries about me and where I agree to try and ease that worry by checking in. “That’s a new one,” I mutter.

Moments later my phone vibrates from my pocket. I think it’s probably Greyson again, wanting to know what times and days I work since I forgot to tell him. But when I take the phone out and see the message is from an unknown number, a chill goes up my spine and all the feel-goods I had in me, vanish.

Unknown: So I’m guessing by your silence that u don’t want to know who did it.

I want to respond that I already know, but I also don’t trust the person on the other line. It has to be another bored reporter, trying to get a story.

Unknown: Tell me Violet, how disgusting does it make u feel, knowing you’ve slept with her son.

My heart stops—dies inside my chest. I forget to breathe. They have to be talking about Luke in reference to being Mira’s son. But how do they know about him? No one does outside of the police, Greyson, and myself. And the police don’t know that I’ve slept with Mira’s son, just that I know him, nor do they fully believe that she’s guilty yet, so why would they text me something like this—why would anyone text me like this?