But he’s one tough bastard. Respect.

As for Tessa... I’m dying to ask her about Audrey, how she is. If she’s been worried about me. If she’s wondered where I’ve been.

But of course I don’t ask, and of course Audrey wouldn’t care. It isn’t like she’s even noticed when I’ve gone missing before—from where, her life? I’m not a part of it and it’s better for her that way.

Better for me, too, I try to tell myself, but I know it’s a lie.

So I bide my time, waiting for my body to heal, and weigh my options. Which are quite limited.

Who am I kidding? They’re f**king non-existent. I have no education, no qualifications. No skills. I’m an adult—turned eighteen in June—but don’t even have a driver’s license.

So where do I go from here?

I need to move out of Zane’s apartment. Only problem is, I called all the homeless centers and shelters and they’re full. I didn’t expect that. I counted on them, because I don’t have money to rent a place.

Where can I stay? I have no family I know of. I vaguely recall an uncle living on the other side of the country. And my brother, who vanished into thin air.

Okay, then. I’ll find money and rent a place, but how? I’ve lost my job at the cafe, and I can’t borrow from Zane or anyone else I know. They aren’t rich people, not even close. Even Tessa prefers not to ask her controlling parents for anything.

I get it. She wants to be independent, to be free to make her own decisions. But at least she can go back home if things get hairy.

Not an option for me anymore.

Add to the problem the fact my wallet with my ID is still at Dad’s house. My cell, too. I know I have to return and get them at some point, but I’m not ready yet.

Just the thought of going back brings on panic that makes my lungs lock and my head spin. Too soon.

I can’t deny how scared I was that day. Scared of dying. Of not having a chance to see more, do more.

See Audrey again. Fuck.

Zane mentions something about Christmas and his sister, and dimly I know he’ll be leaving soon. I can see the multicolored lights of Christmas trees flashing through the windows of the houses across the street.

Festive days.

They mean nothing to me. Haven’t meant anything for a very long time, not since I was little and Mom was healthy. When Tyler was there for me. When I felt safe at home.

Feels like light years ago.

I sprawl on the sofa, thinking, rubbing the old scars on my hand. I was four when I put my hand through broken glass. Tyler took care of the wound. He was the one who told me scars are cool. I’d looked up at him. He was so strong, so confident, training with Dad. I wanted to be like him. I wished to be like him.

And then he left and Dad turned all his attention on me.

Joy.

I often thought since then what strange things wishes are.

So, yeah, there is something I know how to do. One thing. I tend to dismiss it, hating it, hating the memories that go with it.

Dad trained me in fighting. All those years, he taught me boxing and wrestling, with elements of kickboxing for flexibility.

I can fight. I’m good, even Dad grudgingly says so on occasion. Even though he’s much bigger than me, I can take him on and he knows it—unless he catches me by surprise, like last time.

Thinking back, maybe I shouldn’t have been taken unawares. I was lulled into a feeling of fake security for a while, and the encounter with Audrey had been on my mind, making me careless.

Normal people feel safe at home; they don’t expect an attack as they step over the threshold. Not from their own dad.

But now I’ve learned my lessons. There’s no Santa Claus and no home.

It’s time to steel myself. Time to get my life back on track.

Part II

Audrey

In my memory, I must be twelve. I know because I hurt my elbow during that summer break. Mom, Dad and I had gone to a cabin by a lake and I managed to fall on a sharp stone and tear my elbow open. It took ten stitches at the closest emergency room to stop the bleeding.

But Ash hasn’t seen it yet.

“I have a new scar,” I say. We always compare scars. “It’s on my elbow.”

“I don’t believe you.” Ash grins at me, his short dark hair sticking up. He’s passed his wet hand through it, right before he splashed me. “I’ve seen your elbows. There’s nothing.”

“It’s new.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And it’s big,” I say.

“I’ve got bigger ones.”

“You say that all the time, but I haven’t seen your scars.” I rub the scar on my elbow through the cloth. “I bet my scars are bigger and uglier than yours.”

Ash frowns, then his expression clears. “You’re worried about that?”

I bite my lip.

“If I show you mine, will you show me yours?” Ash says, and I smile, because he always makes me feel better.

Chapter Seven

Audrey

It’s been a week since the attack on campus. I stretch out on my beige sofa, propping my foot up. The swelling in my ankle has finally gone down and walking doesn’t hurt so much anymore.

“That looks much better.” My friend from English class, Dakota, is stretched out next to me, the pink streaks in her short dark hair glowing neon.

Every time I look at my foot, I remember Ash and how he took care of me. How he carried me.

I never thought I’d like that. After all, I’ve always thought of myself as an independent, strong woman, capable of taking care of myself. But the memory fills me with warmth. I’d felt protected. Cared for. He’d held me as if he was afraid for me.

My heart pounds at the thought.

“So what are you doing for Christmas?” Dakota asks.

My cheeks heat. “I’m staying here.”

“Your mom coming over?”

“Nah. No time.” I try to hide the disappointment in my voice. I was hoping my mom would come. I miss her.

But when she called me last night, she said she’s taken on a new project with homeless youth and she’ll be working through the whole holiday season. I respect my mom’s desire to help others. So I squash the sting in my chest and smile.

“My mom and I cook together for Christmas,” Dakota says. “It’s tradition. I’m driving over to my folks tomorrow. Big family gathering. My grandma will be there.”

It’s hard to imagine her being so domestic and cozy—cooking in a big kitchen, cousins and nephews running about.

Then again, maybe her family is just like her. Maybe her grandma has pink streaks in her hair, too.

“What are you smirking about?” She throws a cushion at me, grinning.

I catch the cushion. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, nothing. You thought of something dirty, you little minx.”

“Nothing like that. Must be nice to have a big family.”

She shrugs. “It’s tiring, but yeah, it’s fun, too.”

We’ve become closer over the past couple weeks, staying up late to study, chugging down strong coffee and munching on dark chocolate. She insists on playing headache-inducing punk rock music. She likes a mixture of old songs by the Sex Pistols and The Clash, and newer ones, what she calls Post Punk, by Joy Division, and The Cure.

On some evenings I have my way, though, and play my favorite music—Celtic and Neo-Medieval. Dakota makes faces at me, and I laugh so hard I choke on my coffee.

It’s great having a friend who doesn’t know much about me, the accident, who doesn’t pester me to do something about Ash, a friend who believes the new, cheery face I put on.

Selfish as this may sound, I’m also happy to be friends with someone without baggage. Everyone I know in this town seems to have dark stains on their past. Tessa, Dylan, Rafe. Zane, too, I have the feeling, though I don’t know details.

And Ash. His mother dead, his brother gone god knows where, his father a drunk and a killer.

Yeah, it’s nice having a happy-go-lucky girlfriend who regularly overdoses on chocolate and caffeine and goes into giggling fits.

Besides, Tessa has been acting weird ever since she found me and Ash together after the attack. She keeps asking if Ash called me back, and I finally tell her flat out to stop.

He’s the one who kissed me—again—then left— again! Then he won’t even answer the phone. It all looks pretty clear to me. He doesn’t want to see me or talk to me and I’m fine with it.

Have to be. What choice do I have?

Okay, so I was distant with him at first. I let him get closer, and look what happened. I need a break from the drama. My studies are a good excuse. I cancel our night out and then our meet-up at the campus cafe.

So I’m not expecting Tessa to appear at my door, dressed in trendy stretch pants and a classy grey coat, a huge smile on her face. And yet here she is.

She grabs my arms the moment I open the door and swings me around, humming a tune.

“Tess.” I laugh, trying to stop and pull my hands away. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t I tell you your place is on my way—”

“To your apartment, yeah I know.” I snort. “You look like you have good news. Did the hot boy from math take you out? What was his name—Andrew?”

“Who?” She scrunches up her face. “Oh I can’t even remember his name. God, you have the memory of an elephant.”

I roll my eyes. “As long as that’s the only elephant-like thing I have. Come on in.”

Dakota shoots us curious looks from under lowered dark lashes. “Hey.”

“Hey, I’m Tessa.”

“Dakota.”

Tessa takes a seat, her smile faltering.

“We’re classmates in English,” I say, suddenly a bit uneasy. I avoided Tessa the last few days, and here I am, hanging out with a brand new friend. “Hot cocoa?”

“Yes, please.”

“I, um. I should be on my way,” Dakota says, standing up and smoothing her hands down her short, purple skirt. Her black combat boots squeak on the hardwood floor. “Got a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.”

“Wait! What’s the hurry?” Crap, does she feel I’m pushing her out? “Stay a bit longer.”

“Nah, I really should be going.” She grins at me. “See ya, Audrey. Have a great Christmas.”

I sigh and walk her to the door. “You, too.”

When I return to the living room, I see Tessa relax. So I’m right. I need to spend more time with her. She probably thinks I’ve found a replacement for her. I can’t let her think that. I love her and she’s always been there for me, despite her insistence regarding Ash.

As I wander into my kitchenette, busying myself with heating the milk and digging out the package of Swiss Miss, I can’t help thinking that I should bring the two together, so they become friends as well.

“Here you go.” I pass Tessa a mug decorated with kittens and cradle mine as I sink on the sofa and tuck my socked feet under me. “So... What’s up?”

Tessa sips her cocoa, silent for a long moment. Then she says, “It’s about Ash.”

Oh god. “Come on, Tess, honest. Drop it.”

“Aud...” She looks crestfallen. “I’m sure you want—”

I shake my head, stopping her.

I have to move on. I really want to find my feet again; regain my confidence and get over the sadness. I want to be happy.

And Ash... He seems to be at the center of my every sorrow.

Tessa sighs and puts her mug on the table. Her eyes are sad. “Look. I get it, okay? He hurt you once, but that was long ago, Aud. You were both practically kids. I know you feel he betrayed your friendship back then, because he started avoiding you.”

“Tess.” My hands are shaking. I put the cocoa down as well and wipe my hands on my thighs. “Why do you keep bringing him up?”