“You know, it’s probably only fair if I take turns with who sleeps with me.” The moment I say it, Blake seems to let out a breath he was holding. Eventually, he’ll get to the point of speaking up for the things he wants.

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Nash says. I think he came to the same conclusion as me. “So have you figured out what you want to say to Tristan?”

  The guys left an hour ago with words of encouragement. They seemed to have bolstered me for the first ten minutes, but after that I’ve been an anxious ball of nerves. Tristan still hasn’t come downstairs. Maybe he’s expecting me to come find him, to let him know he’s welcome to come out of his room.

  Fuck. I hate this.

  I wring my hands together as I climb the staircase. I still haven’t figured out what I’ll say. Maybe he’ll kick off the conversation, although I doubt it. Not with how much he enjoys my misery. The sound of my knock on his door feels like I’m announcing my own doom, and the longer I wait, the worse my nerves get. What the hell is taking him so long?

  Getting irritated with how inconsiderate he is, I barge into the room, only to find it empty. What. The. Fuck. Turning on my heel, I systematically search the rooms looking for him. I’ve been downstairs all morning. I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed if he came down. But then again, maybe he was up before me...

  Stomping down the stairs in an immature show of my anger, I stumble to a stop when I find none other than my parents. They stand close together, my father whispering in my mother’s ear as she shuffles through the drawers of a decorative chest in the entryway. What does she think she’ll find?

  It’s suddenly hard for me to breathe. I avoid them as much as possible, especially since I told them what happened to me, and they didn’t believe a single word. At first, they thought I was misinterpreting the way I described being touched. Told me I shouldn’t stand as close to men the way I had been. That I should’ve walked away when their hands innocently brushed against my ass.

  But then when I told them about being forced to have sex, they thought it was all my idea. Convinced it was my fault, and I asked for it to happen with my heathen actions. Their reactions told me they never loved me, not like they claimed. They only wanted me in their life to use me like everyone else seemed to do. That was the last time I came home, and I never invited them to my shows again.

  Doesn’t mean they didn’t come to find me, though. Case in point, the fact they’re standing in my house right now.

  Tristan couldn’t have invited them, could he? Even before their betrayal of not believing me, they were shit parents. Tristan hated the way they treated me. But with how vindictive he’s been, I wouldn’t put it past him. They move farther into the open space, and I catch the moment my mother’s eyes land on my cell phone.

  “What are you doing here?” I croak, not willing to let her get her grubby little hands on something so personal. Even if she won’t be able to unlock it.

  They both spin around, their gazes landing on me, traveling over my body like they’re judging every little thing they see. My heart pounds in my chest, banging and rattling against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I wish I fucking could, but I’m like a damn deer in headlights. That old need to make my parents love me, to make them proud, roaring into existence, demanding attention. It’s a hard fucking habit to kick.

  “Raina, my sweet baby girl. We came to see you! It’s been so long,” she coos in a sickly sweet voice. It’s the kind of tone that screams lies.

  “How did you get in?” My mouth feels dry, but at the same time, my palms are overly sweaty. I wish the guys hadn’t left. I don’t like the idea of being here alone with them. Even if Tristan was here, I wouldn’t feel safe. Not with how he’s treated me.

  “Oh, we used our key,” my mom answers, holding up the metal object. My dad crosses his arms and stares at me. His lip lifts in a sneer, which he quickly hides. Alarm bells ring in my head. Something isn’t right, I just haven’t figured out what it is.

  “How did you get a key?” I never fucking gave them one.

  “Don’t be silly, Raina. We’re your parents. Why wouldn’t we have a key?” She walks toward me, waving her hands like she wants me to close the distance. Fat chance of that happening. “Come give your mother a hug.”

  She doesn’t comment on my unmoving state, and when her arms wrap around me, I stand perfectly still, refusing to return the gesture. A cloud of powdery perfume threatens to choke me. My eyes water, and I do my best not to breathe it in, but I’m sure it’ll cling to my clothes like a sin that can’t be washed clean.

  “You haven’t come to see us,” my dad comments. I’m not sure if he expects me to reply or not. What does one say to something so obvious?

  The idea of playing nice makes me sick. They don’t deserve it from me. Honestly, I’d really prefer we pretend the other doesn’t even exist at all. They only use me, which is probably why they’re here now. “What do you need?” It’s always something with them.

  “Well, we were thinking that since you’re here, you could stop by the church. Give a tithing since it’s been so long,” my mother says in that same sugary voice.

  “I don’t have time, but thank you for the offer.” There, polite and to the point.

  “What do you mean, you don’t have time? You’re standing here doing nothing right now. You can send out a chirp or whatever you kids call it, and we can go now.” And here it is. She wants me to advertise their church and try to get people to show up there. I bet they’d charge admission at the door and berate me until I sang a song.

  “I’m actually supposed to be meeting with one of my band members right now, but thank you for coming by. I’ll see you out.” I gesture to the door, doing my best to usher them out of my life.

  “Oh, well, that’s inconsiderate of you. We can take your tithe to the church then and be on our way.” She holds out her hand expectantly.

  I could say I try to hold back my scoff, but that would be a lie. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not giving the church part of my paycheck as some kind of tribute to your god.”

  She blinks rapidly, and her face screws up as if I spit in her holy water. “Fine. A donation.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t clear, but I’m not giving you another cent. You already get a stipend from my paychecks that you somehow got in my contract. That’s all you’re getting from me ever again.”

  “Now you listen here,” my dad says, raising his voice in an angry tone that’s all too reminiscent of my childhood. He points his finger into my chest and towers over me. It’s a move born of intimidation, one that made me cower when I was younger. “We were due that money for raising you. Now stop being disrespectful and show the church your appreciation.”

  I cross my arms, standing my ground. “No.”

  My mother gasps. “This is the devil speaking, isn’t it? You let him into your soul and feed into his satanic whispers in your ears. Marvin, she’s possessed by a demon.”

  “Do you actually hear yourself right now?” I’ve never understood their obsession with religion. They’ve proven time after time how selective they are with what they believe. Even when my father preached the exact opposite from the pulpit.

  “You’ve changed ever since we let you leave to be a pop star. You went wild, opened yourself to Satan, became addicted to sex and drugs. And on top of it all, you tried to lie about being abused. We’ve had enough of it,” my father yells.

  “It’s not my fault you don’t believe me about what happened. You’ve been fed lies that you choose to believe over your own daughter,” I scream right back. They’ve pushed me to the edge, and I’m about to fall into the dark depths of a never ending pit.

  “Before you say another cursed lie, young lady, I suggest you say hello to your uncle.” She gestures behind me, and I whip my head around to check the room.

  My reaction to seeing him is immediate. Palms sweaty, bile in the back of my throat, and an icy chill covering my body. My abuser stands in front of me, the man who ruined my life. The reason why I took a handful of pills and walked into the ocean.

  “Raina,” he greets. “I think it’s time we’ve settled things once and for all. Don’t you?”

  My uncle, Mr. Lexington, the owner of Lexington Productions. His family adopted my dad when he was a baby, which means we aren’t blood related. But it doesn’t make anything he did to me better knowing that.

  I thought he was making my dreams come true when he helped me talk my parents into letting me sign with his label. That dream lasted a week before he started grooming me to keep my mouth shut when he started assaulting me. It was slow compared to most of the girls who came after me. It took six months before he pinned me under him and took my innocence. The next day is when he introduced me to coke. Taught me to self medicate to survive the horrors he put me through. Three months after that is when he gave me to Napalm Delights as a reward.

  “You know I never lied. You’ve done everything you can to ruin my reputation to protect yourself. My word means nothing now.” My voice cracks with the overwhelming emotions, and he smirks. That mother fucking bastard is loving every moment of this. “Why can’t you let me move on with my life?”

  “Angel, you’ve had a bad go with it. You got upset that I was taking a new protegee under my wing and overdosed, so we put you in rehab. I understand your need for retaliation. But you have to stop pretending like I’m harming you in some way. I only want what’s best for you,” he says with an exaggerated frown. No doubt playing it up for my parents. That’s who his audience is. I’ll admit, it wasn’t hard for him to convince them the first time he told his lies. I think he was building the groundwork for them to believe him from the very first day I left.

  “If you want what’s best for me, then let me out of my contract. Let me be happy with some other label. We can be free of each other.”

  “I can’t do that. You need to learn to follow through with your commitments. You have seventeen shows to give me and another album of songs. You even have Tristan now. It will be like the old days. Time will fly, my angel.”

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not your angel,” I snap. It’s what he’d call me every time he defiled my body. It makes me feel dirty, like my skin is crawling with ants. “What do you mean, seventeen? It’s fifteen more shows.”

  “We decided to add two more. You need to leave for Chicago tomorrow. Show is at eight o’clock,” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

  Misery grips my heart, freezing it in my chest. Two more shows? Will he ever stop adding more to what I owe him? I’ll never be free. “This isn’t retaliation for rehab. I’m miserable. I just want out. Please. Give this to me,” I beg with desperation. Somewhere deep down I know this won’t work, but I can’t help but try. To lean on our familial connection to see if maybe, just maybe, he’ll give me what I want.

  “Well, you could always buy yourself out of the contract,” he offers. “But after the damages we took out of your account, you don’t have nearly enough to cover it.”

  Damages? What fucking damages? That lying snake. He’s done something to fuck me over, and I didn’t even realize it.

  “I think it’s time we talk about what has you acting out and taking the drugs,” my mother’s grating voice cuts in. “Was rehab the right call? Maybe you should’ve sent her to a deviant sex specialist. Or would that be a rehab as well for sex addiction?”

  What the fuck is this? An intervention? And they had the gall to ask for money first? The goddamn nerve of them.

  “Get out of my house,” I scream. “Get the fuck out.”

  “Raina Lexington, stop being dramatic. We raised you better than this,” my father says, rolling his eyes at what he sees as theatrics.

  “If you don’t get out now, I’ll make it my life’s mission to dismantle your precious church. Don’t fucking try me.” And I might do it anyway out of spite.

  “I’m telling you, she’s possessed. Can’t reason with a demon. Next time we should bring the holy water and a cross,” my mother murmurs. She waves my dad to the door, the threat against their precious church doing its job.

  When they’re out of earshot, my uncle steps closer to me, keeping his voice low in case he misjudged the distance. “I don’t want you as my toy anymore. You’re ruined goods, and too old for me. But if you want to make a deal, I have a few friends who’d enjoy playing with you. A few videos to remember your time together and a set number of dates. Think about it.”

  My vision grows dark around the edges, and my breath gets lodged in my chest. The moment the door shuts behind him, I run to it, locking it securely. I need to call a locksmith as soon as my hands stop shaking. Turning around, I spot my journal with all my songs sitting on the chest of drawers. I’m snatching it to my chest before I even think about moving.

  How did I not see this sitting there before? I have no idea how long they were all in my house while I was looking for motherfucking Tristan. There’s no way my mother didn’t flip through it. These songs aren’t meant for anyone else, maybe ever. They’re too personal right now, too raw.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to push down the bile working its way up again, but I’m too late. I dash for the kitchen sink, spilling my breakfast. The thought of his creepy friends touching me is too much to bear. I need a shower. The hotter the better. Turning around, I find Tristan standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  Now he shows up?

  “How long have you been standing there?” I ask, a whole new fear blooming to life.

  “You overdosed because he was taking a new protegee?” Tristan asks dumbfounded.

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” I hiss, knocking into his shoulder as I pass him on my way up the stairs. Of course, he’d buy into the lies my uncle sprinkles around like confetti. “It wasn’t an overdose, Tristan. I was trying to kill myself.”

  The plan was to head straight for the shower, turn it so hot my skin melts off and climb into bed with a joint to forget this clusterfuck of a day. I only accomplished one of those things. The moment I pulled on my thin pajamas, I couldn’t stay still.

  Storm clouds roll in, matching my mood perfectly. It sounds like something that would happen in one of the books I read, which admittedly makes me smile for the first time since my guys left. I probably should’ve grabbed my phone from the counter to call them home. Or at the very least, texted them.

  I’m not in a good place right now and could really use my support system. I’m not sure when I started seeing them that way, but they are. Each one of them has shown me that I can trust them, that they won’t judge me for anything, and that they’ll protect me against anything that harms me. Even their best friend.

  It shouldn’t be a surprise that the ocean is calling my name, luring me in like the tide pushing a ship into the rocks during a storm. I escape the house from the balcony outside my window. My home is tainted. It doesn’t feel like a safe place, especially not right now when it’s void of anyone who cares about me. The one place that should be my safe haven has turned into the thing that will send me spiraling into a black hole. At least that’s what it seems like.

  My bare feet hit the frigid sand, but it’s the shock I need to take my first deep breath since my so-called family showed up. The shifting ground gives way with each step I take, reminding me of my life. How nothing is stable, it’s always fluid, changing with the slightest amount of outside influence. The naivety of my youth set me up to hand over control of my life. And I’m finding it’s a lot harder than I thought to take it back.

  I only walk a short distance from the house, choosing to sit in the sand instead of one of the permanent lounge chairs plonked in front of my deck area. They aren’t close enough to the water. I watch as the sea turns into an inky shade of deep green as more and more clouds darken the sky. As time passes, the wind picks up, and the waves develop white caps as they crash against the shore.

  The breeze rushes over the beach, pelting me with sand until I’m numb. Goosebumps pebble my skin, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to dip my toes in the water. Standing, I brush the sand from my ass and stride to the ocean. Right as I meet the water, the first drop of rain hits me. It’s almost warm compared to how freezing cold I am. It’s reckless to be out in this weather, to let myself get this cold and to have left the house in barely there clothes.

  I’m doing my best to survive, but sometimes your best isn’t enough. It’s obvious I’m not thinking clearly right now. My actions prove it.

  The realization gets pushed to the back of my mind; I don’t want to think about that. All I want right now is to wash myself clean of my past, to start fresh without the scars painted over my soul.

  I don’t even realize I’ve stepped into the waves until they get the bottom of my shorts wet. The strong current tugs at my body, making me spread my legs to keep my footing. They come in faster and faster, yet I close my eyes, enjoying the sound of water rushing against the sand.

  Suddenly, my feet are swept out from under me. I tumble head over heels in the waves, unable to find my footing. I’m not even able to tell which way is up. It’s like I’m rolling with the movements of the waves, lurching toward the shore then back into the ocean.

  My lungs burn with the lack of air, and the salt water stings my nose from the one time I risked taking a breath. Maybe my body does know which way is up...

  Before I have the chance to focus on getting myself out of this predicament, I’m lifted into the air and swaddled against a chest. The warmth of the body is shocking against my freezing cold skin. It feels so fucking good. I need more of it. The moment I wiggle in their hold, they lock their arms tighter around me, refusing to give me up.

  The more I shift, the more I throw off their balance, and I’m dipped back into the cold water with a curse. Finally, I’m able to wrap my arms and legs around the muscular form, holding on like my life depends on it. And maybe it does because fighting the waves zapped my energy.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” an angry voice cuts through the buzzing in my ears. The rasp in his voice makes me think he’d been yelling before this. I never heard anything with the sound of the clashing storm filling my head and focusing on hearing the waves rushing against the sand.

 

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