“I want to go home.”

“Can you tell me where home is?” a balding man with wire-rim glasses asked as he pulled a pen from his pocket.

I shut my eyes tight and tried to play my song in my head, but his voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Sarah Winsor, and I don’t have a home.” E was my home and I had lost him.

“Why is that, Ms. Winsor?”

“I’m in a band. We travel.”

“You don’t have a family home? Parents?”

“No. I don’t have anyone.” I tried not to let that affect me, but the floodgates had already been opened and I wasn’t strong enough to close them again.

“You would like to tell me where you got the pain pills and why you took them?”

I didn’t know what to say, where to start.

“What about the cuts?”

“I had a headache and some guy on the street gave me the pills.”

He scribbled down a few notes and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he waited for me to continue, but I didn’t say anything else.

“I would like to keep you here for a few days. We have some excellent people for you to talk to.”

“No! I want to go home.” I started to sit up but he put a hand on my shoulder.

“Where is home, Sarah? This is for your own good. I think you are a danger to yourself and need to be observed for a few days just to make sure you are feeling better, okay?” He smiled as if he wanted me to agree, even though I knew I had no choice in the matter.

“You can’t just do that, can you? This is America. You can’t just keep me here. Where is Eric? He can take care of me.”

“Some friends are here to see you. I think they can help fill in some of the events that transpired for you. I’ll give you some privacy.”

He turned and walked out of the room as Cass and Donna came in, tears in their eyes.

“Thank God! Get me out of this place.”

“Sarah, we can’t . . . we can’t take you out. Not yet. The doctor said . . .” Cass looked heartbroken.

“I don’t care what the doctor said, Cass. I can’t be here. What happened?”

Cass and Donna exchanged a look before Donna spoke up.

“Sweetie, we can fill you in on what happened, but the doctor doesn’t think it is a great idea to upset you further, and they won’t really tell us much about you because we aren’t your family.”

“You are the only family I have!” I broke down, unable to wear the mask I’d hidden behind for years. “Where is Eric?”

“Eric is in jail.”

“Oh my God! They think he did this? Tell them he didn’t do this! I did this! This is all my fault.”

“They know.” Cass put her hand on my shoulder and rubbed it gently. “He is in there for beating the hell out of Derek.”

I sagged back against the bed as I let that sink in. “What will I do here all by myself?”

Another look passed between them before Donna cleared her throat.

“They contacted your family. Someone is coming.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You can’t let them come.”

“It’s done, sweetie.” Cass shook her head as a tear fell. I had never told her the truth of my past, but I could see in her eyes that she understood. I nodded, swallowing back the nasty charcoal they had given me to induce vomiting.

The doctor returned, tucking his pen in the breast pocket of his white coat. “I think we should let her get some rest for a while.” He smiled at Donna and Cass and they nodded, giving me an apologetic smile before hurrying out of the curtained room.

ERIC

I DIDN’T DESERVE TO be here but would gladly do it all over again. I squeezed the dark bars in front of me until my knuckles turned white and my palms threatened to bleed, layers of paint chipping and sticking to my damp palms. The minutes felt like hours and my skin began to crawl with the waiting.

I was informed that Derek had pulled through his beating, and I was partially relieved. I didn’t want to spend my life in prison, but if it kept him from hurting Sarah again, I would gladly take my last breath in this cell if it meant that she was finally free from her emotional hell.

I hadn’t received any word about her condition and it was killing me. I paced the floor endlessly, refusing to sleep or eat until I knew if she was safe. It was probably the only thing keeping me alive right now. I needed to know she was safe. That was all that mattered.

Minutes ticked by like hours. The greatest way to torture a man is to leave him alone with his own thoughts. I counted the cinder blocks that made up the walls and I sang every song we wrote, but none of it seemed to pass the time.

I was in a holding cell by myself so I didn’t even have the luxury of someone to talk to. It was maddening.

“You want to end up in jail?” My dad was on his second case of beer and he only got meaner with each can.

“Like you care. At least then I will have some peace. I could go the rest of my life without seeing the blame on your eyes.” I stalked off to my room, hating that he was killing my buzz.

“You ungrateful little shit!” he yelled after me, and I heard him put down the footrest of his recliner.

I turned around in the hall, preparing for the beating that was sure to follow. But my father just covered his face as he began to cry and shoved past me to his room. Somehow it was worse and I wished he would have hit me. I didn’t like to see everyone around me suffering because of what I had done.

SARAH

I WAS LOCKED IN a cage like a little bird. The room was sterile but somehow felt dirty. I was on the fifth floor of the hospital, a floor reserved for those who needed rest. Needing rest was code for “crazy,” but it was nice that they tried to spare my feelings. I didn’t want to rest, I wanted to run as far away from here as possible.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now, Sarah?” the woman next to me asked, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I cried. What a silly question. I was locked up against my will with cuts slicing down my arms and I had just been forced to vomit up the handful of pills I had swallowed. How did she think I felt?

“Why are you asking me such a stupid question?” I looked toward the far wall as I tried not to focus on the panic that had settled in my chest.

“Why do you think it is stupid?”

“Who is coming to visit me?” I turned to look her in the eye now.

“No one if we don’t think it will be conducive to your recovery. But we can’t be sure of that without getting some answers from you.” She leaned close and placed her hand on top of mine. “We want to help. We can’t do that without you wanting it. Aren’t you tired, Sarah? Tired of holding it all in until it explodes like it did today?”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I begged my body to stop shaking. I couldn’t do this anymore. I was tired of pretending to be strong until I hurt myself. The sooner I cooperated, the sooner I could move on with my life.

“I was eleven when my mom married Phil.”

The memories, the nightmares, all poured out of me. I told her about my shame and guilt. I even told her how I had left my little sister behind in that hellhole.

She never judged me or told me I was a bad person, even when I explained the events that had led me to this place.

I expected looks of disgust but was met with sympathy, and I wished I had met her years ago, but I knew in a place such as this my story was probably something she had heard a million times over. I’m sure she was desensitized to it all, and I wished I could be. I hated how heavy my chest felt as I thought of those nights.

After our talk I was given my dinner and told that I should participate in a group meeting. The idea made me panic all over again. I could stand in front of thousands and pour out my soul, but somehow this was worse. I would have to look others in the eye as I confessed my sins. I didn’t want to be judged by my peers. I wanted to be the Sarah who was onstage. She was a fearless rock star that people loved, but it was all smoke and mirrors.