“Why couldn’t you just get the fucking tattoo?” I mumbled to myself as I stared down through blurry eyes at the tattoo on my arm. I ran my fingers over the raised lines that I had put there, what felt like a lifetime ago.

Each one like an eraser for the pain that had coursed through my body. I slid the pad of my index finger over each one as I closed my eyes and remembered the situations that had caused me to cut myself. They all paled in comparison to how I felt right now.

I pushed to my feet, stumbled as I made my way to the hotel minibar. I grabbed the first little bottle I saw. Jack Daniel’s. I poured it back against my throat, begging for it to take the edge off. I didn’t want to hurt like this and I didn’t want to do the one thing I knew would relieve the pain.

I grabbed another bottle and drank that one, too, coughing as the taste made me gag and nearly vomit. I froze when I heard voices in the hallway, hoping it wasn’t Derek. They continued on; their muffled laughter faded away. I grabbed another drink, struggling with the cap before I finished off that one, too.

“Please work . . . please work . . .” I pushed to my feet and made my way to the bathroom, ramming my shoulder into the doorframe as I tripped over the towel I had left on the floor earlier when I was with Derek. “Aah . . . ,” I cried out, knowing it would bruise.

I stepped inside the bathroom and slammed the door angrily and caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My heavy eyeliner had smeared down my cheeks. I was breathing heavily, unable to calm myself down. I gripped the sides of the sink, using it to keep myself from collapsing on the floor in tears.

My body was begging for me to release the sadness in the one way that I knew would work. I squeezed my eyes shut hard as I struggled against my secret demons. “I’m as free as a bird now . . .”

I was singing loudly along with Lynyrd Skynyrd as they belted out “Free Bird.” I didn’t even hear him enter and creep up behind me.

“You’re growing up into a pretty little thing.” Phil smiled sickeningly, his teeth showing like a rabid dog’s. I crossed my arms over my chest, hating that at twelve my body had begun to change and so had the way Phil acted toward me.

“Please leave me alone, Phil.”

He reached out, tucking my hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing down my cheek. I wanted to pull away from his touch, but I was frozen in fear. His tongue ran out over his lower lip and I shivered, my stomach rolling as I opened my mouth to scream for my mom, but no sound came out.

“Sarah!” My little sister came barreling into my bedroom, coming to a stop as she saw Phil standing in front of me, his hand still on my face. He turned to look over Jenny and his smile grew.

“What is it, Jenny?” My voice shook, and my eyes locked on Phil.

“Come play with me!”

It was killing me that I couldn’t call the one person I knew would understand, E. I kept the real me carefully concealed from most of the world, but he could always see the sadness that lurked under the surface, reflecting back his own. He was also the only one in the world who knew how bad things were for me growing up.

My phone rang and I listened to it as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I hated the person who stared back at me. She was weak and a liar. She wasn’t strong and independent the way she claimed to be onstage.

The phone silenced and I shook my head as a fresh wave of sobs racked my body. I sank to the floor and grabbed the towel from it and ran the corner of it under the cold water. I began to scrub the black smudges from my face, wishing I could do the same to my soul.

When all of the makeup that I hid behind was gone, it was like looking at a completely different person. I was the girl in my school pictures, hair slightly longer, with the same broke smile and sad eyes, hiding a sickening secret from the world. I gathered my hair at the back of my head and pulled it up into a loose ponytail.

I would never look as sophisticated as Donna, but maybe it was time I changed who I was. I wasn’t enough for E and for damn sure was not enough to keep Derek from running off. I looked down at my stupid schoolgirl skirt and tank top accented with safety pins to give it a punk edge. I stripped off my shirt and slid my skirt down my legs. I ran my finger over the top of my thigh, tracing the thin, pink line that was fresher than the other scars, but was healing nicely. No one had asked about that one because the only person who ever saw that part of me ignored it. He pretended it didn’t exist.

I looked at myself, naked with only a pair of black, boy-cut underwear. I ran my hand over my stomach. Hating how it stuck out, hating that my hips were narrower than I liked.

The alcohol was beginning to take the edge off the pain, but it wasn’t enough. I made my way back to the minibar and collapsed to my knees as I grabbed another bottle and drank it down without flinching. I drank several more until my head swam and my skin began to tingle.

Derek had carried my cigarettes so I dug through his bag to find another pack. When I couldn’t locate them, I stood up with it and turned it upside down. Scattering the contents all over the floor and on top of the minibottles of memory loss.

I grabbed a pack and tore it open, throwing the trash on the floor as I made my way to the tiny kitchen area. I turned on one of the burners to the stove and waited for it to heat up. As it glowed bright orange, I stuck the cigarette between my lips and leaned down, pressing the tip to the hot surface. I wobbled on my feet and stuck my hand out to catch myself, placing the tip of my finger right on the glowing spot.

I yanked back my finger, at first wondering why it felt ice-cold. Within a second I realized that I had burned myself and my fingertip was throbbing in agony. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes as I waved it around frantically, trying to get rid of the hurt.

Chapter Thirteen

ERIC

THERE IS NOT enough whiskey in the world to drown out the feeling of having your heart ripped out of your fucking chest. I knew that Sarah couldn’t be left alone in her sadness and anger or she would self-destruct. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and stared at the screen. I wondered if he was with her now or if she was all alone. I struggled against my instinct to protect her. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want me to be that person. I flexed my fingers, the skin of my bruised knuckles pulling apart and sending a sharp jab of pain up my arm.

“Leave her be. She will call you if she needs you.” Donna took the phone from my hands and slid it into the back of her jeans.

“She’s not going to call me, Donna.” I sighed heavily as I drank back the shot in front of me.

She grabbed my good hand and pulled me from the barstool toward the door. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

As we stepped out onto the sidewalk, I pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit it. I blew out a heavy cloud of smoke as I watched the cars pass by.

Donna leaned against the wall, her eyes bloodshot and unfocused from trying to match me shot for shot. I watched her as she looked up at a hotel across the street, half the windows still lit from the lights inside. I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to my side.

“Thank you,” I whispered in her hair.

“For what?” She looked up at me, her face dangerously close to mine.

“For being here.” I dropped my cigarette to the ground and brought my hand up to push the hair back from her face. Her eyes closed and reopened slowly as I touched her skin. I leaned closer as I studied her expression. She didn’t try to pull away from me as her tongue rolled over her lips, wetting them and causing them to glisten from the dim neon light that hung overhead. Her reaction to me was the polar opposite of Sarah’s. She wasn’t repulsed or hurt by my touch, and I needed more than anything to feel wanted. By anyone.