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“Some pub out near the strip,” he said. “I’ll text them back. You’ll wear something nice. Not this hoodie shit.”

I nodded. I didn’t argue. Not anymore. I was already thinking about what the hell I’d wear. He always wanted me to look perfect in front of them. He hated when I looked weak. He hated when I looked sad. I could never get it right.

He went to shower. I stood in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess, black and tangled, eyes sunken. I put some makeup on, even though my hands shook.

I wore a tight black skirt and a blue top, something that flattered my body without making me look cheap. I could already see the way Brandon would stare at my thighs, deciding if I looked too slutty or not slutty enough.

He came into the room and eyed me up and down, hands on his hips. “Better,” he grunted. “Let’s go.”

The car ride was tense. He barely spoke. I tried not to look at him. Every mile we got closer to the pub, my stomach twisted. I gripped my knees together. The ache from the dressing room lingered. Every time I shifted, I felt the wetness, the reminder that I was never going to be normal again.

“Pull yourself together,” I whispered to myself. “You’re just having dinner. You can do this.”

Brandon parked right in front of the place. “Remember, don’t get weird at dinner. Alice is already on edge because you look like shit.”

I nodded again. “I know.”

Inside, it was dark and loud. I looked around, searching for their faces. Landon spotted us first and waved. Alice was beside him, glancing at the door every two seconds. She looked up and her whole face lit up like a little kid.

He shoved me down into the booth next to Alice. He sat across from me, shoulder to shoulder with Landon, who was already halfway through a beer.

The waiter came. I ordered water and picked at the menu. It was all greasy bar food, burgers and fries, fried cheese. I didn’t have an appetite, but I knew I’d get yelled at if I didn’t eat.

Landon ordered for the table. “Fries, nachos, wings. Let’s get all of it.”

I nodded. I could feel Brandon’s gaze drilling into my hands. Every time I twitched, he knew. He fucking knew.

Alice leaned in, whispering. “Are you okay? You look so skinny.”

I fake smiled, the muscles in my face barely worked. “I’m fine. I was just sick, that’s all. And with everything, it’s hard to keep food down.”

She nodded, but she didn’t believe me. She squeezed my hand.

Brandon was all charm for the group. He laughed, told stories, made fun of Landon for drinking light beer. He called the waiter “boss” and ordered a round of shots, like he was celebrating something. He never acted like that at home. It was the mask, the tight fit of being something he wasn’t.

I faded into the booth. I tried to disappear. I let myself sink in, counting the beer bottles on the table, the seconds between each fake smile. Every time Brandon looked at me, I forced a grin.

The food came. I picked at the nachos, forced myself to eat the chips, even though my stomach wanted to curl up and die. Alice kept piling food on my plate. “Eat more, Starla. You need it. Your arms are like twigs.”

Brandon drank his beer, kept glancing at a game on the TV over my head. I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eyes. Landon talked about work, about local drama, about some car crash down on the rural highway last week.

My bladder ached. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I slid out of the booth, mumbling, “I need to use the restroom.”

The hallway was empty. I ducked my head, walking fast. I found the public women’s bathroom and opened it to find three vacant stalls. I shut the door behind me and collapsed against the sink, trembling. I splashed water on my face, cold as ice. I stared at my reflection, searching for anything normal. All I saw was a sick, broken girl.

The bathroom door opened. It made my heart stop.

A hand slammed over my mouth before I could scream. I was shoved back against the tiled wall, knocking the air from my chest. I knew those hands, the heat, the violence.

“Hush, bluebird. It’s just me.”

My whole body clenched. My knees went weak. I sagged against him.

“Did you miss me?” His hand covered my throat, squeezing just enough to make everything fuzzy. I moaned. The sound was pathetic, but I couldn’t stop it.

He grinned. I could hear it in his voice. “That’s what I thought. Poor thing, stuck at a table with him. You wish it was me, don’t you?”

I shook my head, but it was a lie. He pressed his body close. His hand was already under my skirt. He peeled my panties down and shoved his fingers inside. I was soaked. Humiliation burned up my neck, a deep red heat.