Chapter 1
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Andy Carter
“Oh, God,” I groan, feeling aching muscles protesting as I struggle toward consciousness. Why do I feel so awful? Is this what it feels like to be in love?
Can’t be…
My heart feels strangely empty, and there’s a churning in my gut that has my breath catching as I fight back a gagging sensation.
Last night…what happened last night?
I groan again.
Mark.
Where is Mark? I fumble out a hand, reaching for the warmth of his body. He’d been right here beside me as I’d finally fallen asleep. Trying to ignore the burning pain between my thighs.Exhausted.I’d been so exhausted. And he’d been abrupt, distant. I’d sensed him withdrawing. Although, that couldn’t be right. We’d just made love.My first time.He’d told me it would hurt. But I hadn’t expected…that. The sense of violation as he’d invaded my unprepared body.
“It’ll be better next time,” he’d muttered impatiently when I’d fought back the tears.
But it hadn’t been. He’d rolled onto my unresisting body more times during the night. Thrusting into me relentlessly with that hard, throbbing flesh. Growing increasingly annoyed when I hadn’t responded as he’d wanted.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he’d finally snapped. “It’s not like you’re a baby…are you a baby, Andrea?” I’d tried not to cry as I shook my head. Mark had been at my 15thbirthday party last night. Told me how he was going to make me a woman at last. Said how beautiful I was, brought me drinks…so many drinks. I’d never liked him much before – he’d kind of creeped me out with the way those cold, flat eyes had always followed me. But last night, he made me feel special. It’s been so long since I felt special. Not since…
Not since Kyle died.
It’s been a year since I lost my big brother. My protector. My hero. Nobody in the world was as smart as Kyle or as caring. School valedictorian. Captain of the football team. At 19, Kyle had everything going for him. Until he was gone. Suicide, they said. I still can’t believe it. How could it be true? Nobody loved life as much as Kyle did. Sweet, kind Kyle; I miss him so much. And I’ll do anything to fill the emptiness in my heart, to heal the wound of his loss, or find closure. Including sleeping with Kyle’s best friend. The charming boy who’s not so charming anymore. There’s no note from him on the pillow beside me. No message on my phone. Or even a reply when I try to call him.
And somehow, I’m up on my feet, dragging aching legs down hallways. The corridors through the boarding school dormitories. School? It makes no sense.
Why am I here?
Fog.
My brain feels filled with fog.
I’m looking for…looking for something.Someone.
Mark.
Where is Mark? He left my bed without a word. After all that we did. And now there’s laughter all around me. Why are they laughing at me? I glance down to see I’m still naked, my bare skin marred by the bruises he’d left on my flesh. Where are my clothes? What did he do to me? I clutch a hand over my exposed breasts and cup a hand over my crotch. But the mocking laughter keeps ringing around me. Girls from the dorm of my prestigious boarding school, their faces freakishly contorted.
“Slut!” someone yells.
“Stupid slut!” I spin around, trying to find the source of the voice, but it seems that they’re all yelling it now. And as I spin, images come into focus. I’m surrounded by pictures of myself. My naked body. There are printed pictures of me everywhere. Posters pasted on the walls. On the pillars in the hallways. My breasts, my groin, my sleeping face. My auburn curls and creamy skin are unmistakable. I choke on a sob.
He took photos of me?
“No,” I croak out. It can’t be true. How could he betray me this way? But all I can hear are the mocking catcalls and insults from those cruel girls. Girls who share my classes at school. Girls I’ll have to face each day.
“Fucking whore!” someone snaps right beside me, into my ear. I swivel to face the voice because this is a different sound. A man.
“Daddy?” I whisper, suddenly staring into the face of my father. His eyes flash pure hatred at me. How could my father be here?
“You stupid, stupid girl!” Now it’s my mother’s voice. I want to cover my face with both hands, but I’m too afraid to bare my naked body to my own parents. Not while Mark’s left his fingerprints all over me. Or while I struggle to make sense of what’s happening.
“Mom—” I begin to say, but the rest of my words are dashed away as my father’s hand meets my cheek in a blistering slap.
