CHAPTER 1

 

The wailing screech of the electric guitar almost rips my eardrums when Slash performs one of his guitar solos. I used to despise heavy metal until I discovered that the shrill sounds numb my mind to a point of total oblivion. The plugs of the Beats in my ears are turned up to full power while I lie rigidly on the bed, waiting for the next guitar solo to shoot throbs through my brain. This is better than getting freeze shocks from eating large mouthfuls of ice cream.

When Slash is just about ready to strike again, a hand tears me out of my heavy-metal world, making my heart jump into the air. My eyes fly open as my heart rate doubles, just to be mocked by the sight of my mother. False alarm—no need to get upset.

I’m still in a rotten mood. “What the hell are you doing? You scared the living daylights out of me.” The hissing sounds rolling off my lips are far from the image of the respectful daughter I ought to be.

Her eyebrows knot together in response. “I screamed at you at the top of my lungs, but you didn’t even flinch. That music is too loud. It’s bad for your hearing. One of these days, you’re going to end up deaf.”

I’d heard it all before. “Yeah, Mom, I know, but you still shouldn’t invade my privacy like that. What do you want?”

She looks like a lost puppy. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s time for your walk.”

I eye the gaps in the curtain, thinking of an excuse not to go. Why couldn’t it just be raining? “I don’t feel like leaving the house. It’s way too chilly.”

She doesn’t go for it. “It’s beautiful outside. You could even wear shorts.”

I glare at her. Why would I want to do that? Shorts mean exposed skin, which in turn could give the impression in someone’s perverted mind that I might be interested in anything other than being left alone.

My mom continues her lecture. “Dr. Stromberg said that those daily walks are important.”

Everything Dr. Stromberg has ever prescribed is of utmost importance for my recovery, but except for those pills that help with my depression and give me a buzz, I generally disagree with her opinions.

“Maybe tomorrow, Mom. I have a headache.”

“No.” She pulls away my cover, exposing my pj’s with the white and red skulls on an all-black background—my absolute favorite. Everything symbolizing death and destruction is totally noteworthy. “You will get up, young lady, and take a shower for a change. Then you’ll get out of this house and enjoy the sunshine.”

I moan, trying to recover the blanket, but she is relentless.

“And when you come home, you will join us at the table for dinner and not just disappear in your room again.” She underlines her words by jutting her chin at me. It’s her “don’t challenge me” look.

My moans grow louder. “Mom, please—”

She cuts me off with a pointed finger. “Don’t please me, Kelsey. You’re making yourself sick and it has to stop.”

I pull my pillow over my head to block her out and hide the oncoming tears. “I am sick, Mom. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a total nutcase.”

She sits down on the bed next to me and strokes my back the way she used to when I was little. “I know you’re still hurting, but it has been three years. It’s time for you to at least make an effort to get your life back into some type of order.”

I mumble something inaudible into my sheets.

“What was that, honey?”

I fiercely fight the tears. “Nothing, Mom. I’ll get up in a minute.”

It’s an empty promise and she knows me too well. We have been here plenty of times before. “I’m not leaving until you are in the shower.”

With a growl, I jump out of the bed and stalk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Why in God’s name can’t people just leave me alone?

Ten minutes later, I have showered and even washed my hair before dressing in saggy black jeans and an oversized black sweater that reminds me of a huge tent. Some grungy old sneakers complete the ensemble. My damp hair is pulled up in a messy bun with a plain rubber band after I don’t even bother combing it in the first place. I used to wear makeup but not anymore.

I grab the offered apple from my mother’s hand before heading outside, no longer in the mood to argue. I toss it in the next garbage bin I pass on the street. My steps are heavy as I stroll along without any particular destination.

My mom was right; it is the perfect May afternoon. The warm sun dances on my skin whenever I step out of the shadows, an occasional breeze playing with a few loose strands of my hair. When I speed up, a thin layer of sweat soon covers my back. I should have worn a short-sleeve shirt, but the risk of someone noticing my little acts of indiscretion is just too high. Rumors spread through Stonehenge like wildfire and there is no need to fuel my reputation as the town’s wacko even more.

Somehow I end up downtown by the park and find myself on a bench away from the main sidewalk but still within visual range of the high school. It’s almost four, and when the bell rings, students begin to file out. I gasp when I notice Justin by the gate, leaning against a light post.

A sharp pain stabs at my heart as he wraps his arms around Cynthia Tranton, of all people, who looks like a total slut in her little cheerleader outfit. They kiss passionately and I can practically see their tongues colliding. My soul is weeping—he used to kiss me like that before I became damaged and used. The pain worsens when the little green devil claws into my heart with cruel laughter.

No one wants the raped girl, he spits in my face.

I lower my gaze, wondering how long they’ve been together. Cynthia is a year younger than me and will graduate in a few weeks. After that, she’s probably off to some West Coast college on her parents’ dime. I’ve never even stepped foot outside of Maine, one of the least crime-ridden states of the country, yet I’m the one abducted and raped. Figures!

Someone slumps next to me on the bench, and I am just about to karate chop him into his temple, like I learned in my self-defense class, when I realize it’s Luke. I nudge his shoulder harder than intended.

“You jerk, scaring me like that.”

He rubs his arm with a grimace. “I didn’t know you lost your eyesight overnight. Didn’t you see it was me?”

“I was deep in thought.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing. Usually, all you do is sulk, so I guess animating those brain cells is an improvement.”

My eyes linger on Justin and Cynthia, who have been joined by a few of their friends. Justin is laughing and Cynthia hops excitedly from one foot to the other. She looks absolutely silly. It’s Friday night and they probably plan to have a party out by the lake.

Luke rests his arm on my shoulders. “Are you okay? Maybe we should leave.”

I can’t tear my eyes off them. “How long have they been together?”

“I don’t know, but I think it has been a while. The jerk moved on pretty quickly.” He squeezes my shoulder. “It’s his loss, you know. He’ll never find someone as special as you.”

Tears blur my vision. “You’re the only one who thinks that and only because you’re my brother.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Kels. You’ll see—one day, you’ll find someone who loves you just the way you are.”

I have my serious doubts but don’t debate with him. He always wins anyhow. His arguments are usually solid and sharp—he’s just like Roy in that respect. I guess like father, like son.

He reaches into the side pocket of his backpack and produces a tall paper cup. “Here, I brought you something.”

I grin from ear to ear, touched by his gesture. “Starbucks. Is it the caramel latte with cream I like?”

“Yep.”

I reach for the cup, already tasting the sweet whipped cream on my lips, but he pulls it out of my reach. “Only if you kept your promise. Let’s see your arms.”

I grit my teeth, staring at the coffee. “Come on, Luke. Give it to me.” It seems so close, yet still so far.

“Show me your arms.”

His piercing eyes stir my bad conscience, and with a groan, I roll up my sleeves, knowing I have lost. The coffee cup lands in a nearby bin, the brown liquid spilling through the wire mesh and soaking into the ground. Only a little bit of cream and sprinkles are left behind. He stares ahead with pursed lips, the disappointment oozing from his body.

I shrink in my seat, feeling incredibly worthless and despicable. “It was only a small cut.”

He refuses to play my game. “A cut is a cut, Kels. You know how I feel about self-harm. It’s stupid and won’t solve any of your problems.”

A cold claw clenches my chest. “It makes me feel better.”

“I understand that it’s a coping mechanism, but it’ll never erase your real pain. You might think you feel better for a little while, but that’s just an illusion. Causing more wounds won’t help to heal those scars in the end.”

I don’t want to talk about it anymore and punish him with silence. He doesn’t seem to mind, leaning back on the bench with his eyes closed, enjoying the sunshine. My focus returns to the school gate, but Justin and Cynthia are gone. Most of the area in front of the building is deserted. Only a few guys are throwing a football.

A boy is sitting in the grass, his back resting against a tree. His eyes follow the football jocks with a smirk. He absentmindedly pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights himself a smoke. I’m baffled by his open display of defiance—the school has a strict no-smoking policy. He’ll be suspended if caught by a teacher.

He inhales deeply and blows the smoke in the direction of the boys with the football. His “don’t care” attitude is annoying. I eye his stereotypical bad boy outfit with a wrinkled nose—black jeans, biker boots, and a black muscle tank that highlights his wide chest. A leather jacket is tossed casually in the grass beside him—what an idiot. His rebellious appearance might work up in Lewiston or maybe even down in Portland, but not here, in the sheltered community of Stonehenge. In this town, most boys and girls are churchgoing goody-two-shoes with parents who do not approve of guys like him. He must be a fairly new arrival who has yet to learn the error of his ways.

“Hey, Luke, do you know that guy?”

His gaze moves in the direction of my pointed finger. “Yeah, that’s Finn. Don’t you remember? He’s Andrew Walker’s nephew and used to come up here in the summer with his brother. We went to kayak camp together a few times.”

I vaguely remember. He ran in a different crowd, already a troublemaker back then. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh, he just moved from Connecticut. Apparently, he got into some trouble back home and they kicked him out of school. Rumor has it that he is on his second attempt of senior year, but Maya said he’s likely not going to make it. His grades must be terrible and he cuts a lot of classes.”

I chuckle and almost feel sorry for him—Finn has probably no idea that he is the center of the town’s juicy gossip. Maya, the sister of Luke’s girlfriend, Rhonda, is the biggest newsmonger around and will keep everyone diligently informed about any of his mischief.

Luke stretches. “We should get home. Rhonda and I want to catch a movie up in Auburn tonight.” He winks at me. “Care to tag along?”

“Nope. I have plans of my own.”

“Do those involve leaving the house?”

I glare at him. “What do you want from me? I already took a shower and this stupid walk. Isn’t that enough to prove that I’m trying?”

“Don’t expect a medal from me, Kels. It has been three years and hiding in your room is not the answer.”

Not again. Why can’t he and my mom understand that memories don’t just fade away because a certain time frame has elapsed?

I glance one more time at Finn, who flips the football jocks a bird, causing some shouts to float our way. One guy is turning red in the face while Finn laughs off his insults. I just silently shake my head. Somebody needs to put him in his place with that type of attitude.

I follow Luke to his truck and slide into the passenger seat, buckling up. As we drive by the high school where Finn and Red Face have advanced to pushing each other, the words “fuck you” assault my ears. I frown—what a jerk.

Halfway home, Luke pulls into a gas station and fills up the tank. Just when he is about done, his phone rings. He hands me a twenty-dollar bill. “Could you run in and pay? I need to get this.”

I grab the money and stroll inside, thirst suddenly bubbling in my throat. The clerk has his back turned as I walk in, his nose stuck in a magazine. The cooler is right beside the door and I study the selection of drinks before reaching for a peach iced tea.

“Excuse me, do you also have this in lem—?” A small yelp springs from my lips when the clerk turns around to face me. The bottle escapes my hands and crashes onto the floor. When the cap pops off, iced tea splatters all over my shoes and pants, but I barely notice the mess.

The clerk sneers. “Oh, hey, honeybun. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

An invisible force wraps around my throat and I gasp for air, cold sweat spilling from every pore of my body. Before I can faint, my hand reaches for the water cooler to steady myself. My eyes are fixed on him like a mouse on a snake while I continue to breathe heavily. All my mind registers at that very moment is one single thought. What in the hell is Jed Edwards doing here?