I slunk back against the wall and dropped the album on a pile of clothes, kicking some dirty laundry on top of it.

“I thought this was where he said to sleep.”

The guy came closer. He looked me over suspiciously. “No, I don’t think so. This is my room. Jon’s is down the hall,” he said.

His body was rigid and he didn’t take his eyes off me for a second.

“Okay, sorry,” I muttered, starting for the door.

“What are you two doing here anyway? How do you know Jon?” he asked. He didn’t look any older than me.

“I don’t know Jon. My aunt does,” I said, trying for the door again. He blocked me with his hand, closing the door.

“You guys need money, don’t you?” He moved in, pinning me against the wall.

“Look, I’m just along for the ride. I don’t know what she’s doing.” I stared into his eyes. I wasn’t about to show him he was scaring me.

“How old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty in a week,” I said, finding the doorknob and his fingers wrapped around it.

“Do you know Jon sells drugs?” He stayed close, not letting up.

“I told you, I don’t know much about him or why we’re here. We’ve been driving for a while, just needed a break,” I said, trying to play it cool.

“So, are you a nice girl or are you more like that older broad?” He pressed his lips against mine, pinning my head against the door. The smell of beer filled my nose.

He slid his hand down the front of my shorts, not letting the zipper stop him. I prayed he kept his hands away from my back pocket.

I shut my eyes in an effort to escape from the moment as the groping continued. My mind was as blank as the night sky as his hands found my chest. He cupped my breast, kissing down my neck. I prayed for my guardian angel to swoop through the window and pound his face in.

Someone pounded on the door. My heart pleaded for it to end, but he ignored it, pulling my shirt over my head.

“I think you’re a bad girl like that aunt of yours.” He pulled me close. I tried pulling away.

“Stop, I don’t even know you.” I pressed my hand into his chest. It never surprised me what alcohol could make a man do.

“I’m Ben, by the way,” he said, as if my knowing his name made it okay somehow. He tugged at my shorts. The thought of what was about to happen put me in full panic mode. I shoved him as hard as I could, sending him flying over his bed.

He groaned, scrambling to his feet. I got out of the door and ran down the hallway, grabbing my suitcase.

“Whoa! What’s going on here?” someone said from the hallway. He caught the tail end of me as I slammed the bathroom door shut.

I clutched my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. It felt like a wild bullfrog jumping all over the place. I turned on the water, attempting to drown out the commotion in the hallway.

I wasn’t leaving the bathroom until Aunt Wanda came back—if she did. There were times she didn’t roll back around until morning.

Times like these I wished for more. I just wanted someone to care enough about me, so these things didn’t happen. But no matter how much I wished for that, it didn’t matter. Some people weren’t meant to have a good life. You’d be surprised what you accepted as the norm in desperate times.

After the hot shower, I sat on the bathroom floor dripping wet. I forgot to grab the towel in the closet during my escape from Ben.

To pass the time, I stacked stray beer caps one after another waiting to hear Wanda’s voice so I could come out. There was no way I was prepared to fight off three men. I didn’t care how tough I was, some things just weren’t possible.

I finally heard her voice in the hallway. I stood up, staring at my naked frame in the foggy mirror. I wondered what she thought was so beautiful about me, why she always compared me to a piece of art. I barely had boobs, not that I minded. Aunt Wanda always complained how her large chest gave her backaches.

My hair was a drab brown and way too long.

They say your eyes are the window to your soul. If that’s true, mine showed just how dull and lifeless my soul was.

I was skinny—almost too skinny. Most days it seemed like my body had a mind of its own. I was awkward and fidgety. But Wanda said that was another quality that made me such a catch. She said men liked girls who weren’t comfortable in their own skin.

And I envied anyone with a tan, because I had the complexion of a recluse.

I pulled on my jeans and tank top and headed into the hallway, keeping my eyes on the ground, not wanting to look at the idiot. Who was he to think he could take advantage? If I hadn’t been so worried about stirring up trouble, I’d have socked him a good one.

I tossed our suitcase next to Wanda. She was lying on top of Jon on the sofa. She didn’t even notice. I headed out the front door, the night air hitting me in the face as I hurried down the steps into their poorly tended lawn.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, lightly pulling through any remaining tangles. I stared up at the moon glowing overhead, wondering what I should do. I was stuck, once again.

The door opened and slammed shut. My body tensed. I prayed it was Wanda.

“What, you don’t want to finish what was started back there?” Ben asked.

I backed away.

“Just go away,” I said.

He came closer, grabbing my arm. “Where is it?”

I hesitated, surprised he knew I stole his money. I didn’t know what to say. I just wanted everything going on to end.

He was fast as lightning. In seconds, he had a hold on my hair. He pushed me to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. I struggled to get out from under him as he searched for his money.

Finally, I got one hand free. I hit him in the face and pulled at his hair trying to get away.

“Just give me the money and I’ll let you go.” He grabbed me by the shirt.

“Get off me!”

I flinched when he hit me in the face. He tried to cover my mouth and I bit down on his hand.

“Ben, go back in the house,” someone said from the darkness. The moonlight revealed him when he approached. Ben looked at me one last time before he gave up and went back inside.

I swore he was an angel. His shaggy blond hair shimmered in the moonlight. Sitting on my knees, I stared up at him, touching my face for signs of blood before accepting his help off the ground.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry,” he said brushing grass from my clothes.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry,” I stammered, searching for somewhere to go. He watched, crossing his arms as I headed toward our car.

“Where you two heading? Is that woman you’re with a drug addict?”

I leaned against our car. “She uses drugs on occasion, but it’s not a problem,” I said, like I always did.

He nodded.

“Thanks very much. You didn’t have to help.” I knew he thought I was a thief.

“What. Are you kidding? You were never going to get away from Ben. He was a wrestler in high school,” he said, a small smile on his face. I studied his expression trying to figure out the meaning behind it.

“Well, thanks.” I looked away.

“I don’t care if you took his money. Are you in trouble? I mean, what’s the deal with the two of you? Are you gypsies or something?” he asked, genuinely interested.

I ran a hand through my hair.

“She likes to travel. We’re headed for California.” I always wondered how long before that actually happened. It had been the goal for years. But something always came along to foil our plans.

“Do you like to travel?” he asked.

“I’m used to it. It’s what we do.” I shrugged, staring at my dirty feet, wishing the night would come to a quick end so we could be on our way.

“You seem sad.”

I always looked sad—it was the norm for me anymore.

“No, just tired. I was really hoping to get some sleep, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

“I live next door, come on,” he said, heading across the grass. I followed reluctantly. What to do? It was a toss-up really. What would be worse, being next door to a drunk drug dealer or with a stranger that could be just as crazy?