“Okay…” I blink fiercely, struggling to get my eyelids to stay open. “But I don’t know where I am.”

“What do you mean?” he asks and I hear the engine of his truck roar. “How the hell can you not know where you are?”

“Well… this guy took me somewhere… and I don’t remember where…”

“Can you recognize anything?”

“Stars… and…” I trail off, letting the sleepiness overtake me. He says something, but I’m too exhausted to answer.

“Lila!” he yells.

My eyes snap open. “Yeah…”

“Tell me what’s around you.”

“Bushes… and stars… and a building…”

“What does the building look like?”

“Like every other building out there…” My head flops to the side. “There’s this really weird flashing pink bird thingy at the entrance… That could be in my head though.”

“Thank fucking God.” He sounds a little relieved. “I know where you are.” He says a bunch of other stuff, but I can’t tell what he’s saying, so I just drop the phone because it’s too heavy anyway. Then I gaze up at the stars and let myself fall into the darkness and numbness that I’ve become so familiar with. In fact, it’s really starting to feel like home.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, sliding his hand up my thigh. “Your skin’s so soft, too.”

I force a smile, even though the way he’s touching me feels wrong. Everything about the situation feels wrong, but at the same time it feels right, because the way Sean’s looking at me right now makes me feel worshipped and loved. “Thank you,” I say, which makes him grin this adorable grin that makes him look younger than he is.

“You’re welcome,” he says and leans forward, giving me a soft peck on the nose. “You’re amazing,” he whispers against my skin, peppering kisses down to my jawline as his fingers drift up my plaid skirt. “I want to touch you everywhere… kiss you all over.”

I place my hand on his chest, holding him back just a little so that I can look him in the eyes. “Why don’t you ever touch me in public? Is it because you were lying about not being married?” I eye the ring on his finger.

His eyes turn cold, his mouth setting in a firm line as he leans away, leaving his hand on my upper thigh, but his fingers stiffen. “No, I told you I’m not married. It was a gift and you know why we can’t be seen in public. Age matters to people, Lila.”

I run my fingers through his soft hair, worried I’ve pushed him too far. “You’re not that much older than me and it doesn’t matter to me anyway.”

He stares at me like I’m incompetent. “Lila, don’t be stupid. They would rip us apart. Everyone would.” He starts to reach for the door handle of his car. “Maybe I should go.”

“No, don’t.” I grab a handful of his suit jacket and pull him back to me, terrified that he’s going to leave me. “I-I’m sorry I brought it up. Please, just go back to what you were doing.”

He narrows his eyes, looking like he’s deliberating whether he should stay or go, whether he’s too good for me or not. He is. I know that.

“You want me to do back to what I was doing?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he assesses me. There’s something in his eyes that is both thrilling and terrifying and makes my skin tingle in a way that it never has.

I nod, but with a lack of confidence. “Yes.”

He places his hand back on my thigh. He slowly starts to travel upward to the bottom of my skirt, briefly lingering at the hem before slipping his fingers underneath the fabric. I instinctively tense and he seems pleased by it. “Are you sure, Lila?” He reaches the fabric of my panties. “You really want me to go back to what I was doing?”

I open my mouth to say that I’m not sure and that he’s making me feel dirty, but then he forces his fingers inside me with a rough, almost violent movement. I’m not sure what to do because it hurts and feels wrong yet it also feels good.

He starts to move his fingers inside me, almost forcefully. I think about telling him to stop, but the wonderful and horrifying feelings of bliss and need silence my lips. Then he moves his free hand around to the back of my head and grabs violently at my hair.

“Ow, that hurts,” I mutter through a moan with my neck being forced to arch back.

“Good,” he says, his eyes darkening with pleasure. He pulls even harder on my hair and pain and pleasure flood my body.

My feeling become hard to decipher as I reach forward and clutch on to his arms as my body heats up and I can’t breathe. When he pulls his finger out of me, I’m not sure whether I enjoyed it, regretted it, or both. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel.

Ethan

At first I think she’s at some guy’s house and even though I don’t want to go to that jealous place inside me, I do. It pisses me off because only a week ago, I was touching her and all was great until she zoned out and it seemed like she didn’t want to do anything with me.

But then I notice the dazed sound of her voice and none of that matters. I’ve heard the distance and dazed sound in London’s voice many times and in my own, too, when I used to get smashed. An alarm goes off in my head and all I can seem to think about is walking away from London the last time, right after the needle entered her arm. Then Lila starts talking about pills and I remember the prescription bottle in the couch cushion. That’s when I really start to freak out. I’m trying not to panic as I try figure out where she is, but she seems to have no idea. Then she mentions the pink bird and a small amount of relief washes over me. I drive by that damn pink bird twice a day to and from work. It’s not too far from my house, only a few minutes away. I keep talking to her to make sure she stays awake, debating whether I should call an ambulance or something.

I can still hear her voice when I spot the pink bird in front of the apartment complex that’s tucked between a house and a gas station. But when I’m pulling in, there’s a thud on the line and then it goes silent. For a split second all I can think about is how I’m never going to see her again, that she’s gone, and I almost become paralyzed. I’ve never felt so much adrenaline rush through my body and my heart starts to slam against the inside of my chest.

“Shit.” I swing a hard left and slam on my brakes, stopping on the curb, the tire ramping up onto it. She said she was in the bushes, but there are bushes everywhere. I hop out of the truck and shout. “Lila!” No one answers. I run around the two-story brick buildings situated inside the fenced parking lot, shouting out her name as I unlock my cell phone screen to call 911. I spot a flashy high-heeled shoe near the bottom of one of the stairways and I pick it up, wondering if it could be Lila’s. It looks like something she probably wouldn’t wear and more like something a stripper would own and there are a lot of those around here.

When I turn around I see feet sticking out of the shrubbery and one of them is missing a shoe. I run over and drop to my knees beside Lila, sprawled out on the ground, taking in the paleness of her skin and the glossiness in her eyes. Suddenly a feeling rushes over me, rams me square in the chest, gut, legs—everywhere. Looking at her, like this, makes the possibility of losing her much more real.

“I feel sick, Ethan,” she murmurs and then rolls onto her side, tucking her hands under her head and closing her eyes.

I carefully slide my arm underneath her neck and slant her head up, patting her cheek so she’ll open her eyes. “Lila, what did you take? Can you remember the name?”

“What I always take,” she slurs, blinking her eyes open. “That stuff in my drawer.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. “And what’s that?”