the moment we get back. He's kissing a trail of fire along my neck, and it's all happening so fast; before I know it, he's reaching beneath my shirt, inching toward my breasts, and I freeze up. Elliot stops.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just—" I grip the neck of his hoodie. His eyes are as dark as the night sky in the half-light, and he's so magnetic, but I'm nervous. And maybe a little scared, too. I've had sex more times than I care to count, but never with a guy I have real feelings for. With bated breath, I ask, "Is it okay if we wait a little longer?"

"Yeah. Of course." He kisses my forehead and falls to the side, arm still secure around my waist. "We have all the time in the world."

So we hold each other, and fall asleep quietly, and for the first time since the night we played Monopoly, I truly forget who I really am.

When morning comes, streams of sunlight sneak through the curtains and shine in my eyes, and I'm alone. Disoriented, I lift myself up, only to find Elliot's hockey bear in his spot on the bed. My phone has two texts: one from Elliot, one from Alecia. I read Elliot's first.

I smile wide. Yesterday really was great. Elliot is a good kisser, and the feeling of his lips still lingers on mine.

I open Alecia's message next. She sent a picture of my favourite Metallica T-shirt.

Hey, thanks. I thought I lost that thing. Can Brett drop it off?

I have a bad feeling. I've stayed at Brett and Alecia's safely many times since I escaped Colt, but we've had some close calls lately. And this thing with Elliot; it's too good. I can't risk anything, so I text Alecia back.

It's too risky to come to your place...

OK. Carol's is as far West as I go.

Carol's Diner is a hot spot in the west, and wide windows line the walls giving view to the untidy street outside. A scraggly teenager walks by and spits on the ground, followed by an old man who looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in weeks. I've gotten too used to the type of people who live in Elliot's world; the friendly neighbours who wave to us when we pass, the mailmen who drop packages off on doorsteps with smiles even when it's negative thirty.

I'm in a booth against the back wall, fidgeting with the string of Elliot's hoodie on my body. The smell of bacon, eggs, and maple syrup sizzles in the air. Every time a car passes, my eyes dart to the side. I'm way too open and exposed in here. Finally, Alecia walks in, and it's like a breath of fresh air. Her black hair in blades around her catlike face, and she wears a turquoise blouse with bell bottom jeans. She's beautiful like her brother, but her remorseful expression tells me there are things going on with her, too. Colt was a horrible boyfriend, but he's no better of a friend to Brett and Alecia.

If I had to thank Colt for one thing, it would be for leading me to Brett and Alecia Murphy. They're good people. They're my people. But Colt's a snake, and he sheds his skin wherever he lies. He's always sniffing around them, but because of his history with Brett, I don't think he suspects they're helping me. If he did, well, I don't want to think about it.

"Hey, baby." Alecia slides into the seat across from me.

"Hey. You have my shirt?"

She clicks her tongue. "Not even a how are you first?"

"Sorry. How are you?"

"Well it doesn't feel real now." She laughs, and I do, too. "So, Brett tells me you're bunking with some squeaky clean high school boy. That true?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Tell me about him."

"Where's my shirt?"

With a roll of her dark brown eyes, Alecia digs into her purse and tosses it to me. The soft fabric lands in my hands, and I mutter a thanks as I stuff it in my backpack. "I should go."

"What, you're not even going to have breakfast with me? Come on, Lucy. Relax."

I'm trying, but my chest is tight. I guess after everything, if there's one person I can confide in about Colt, it's Alecia. I've gotten too used to bottling everything up around Elliot. "It's just—I was out the other night, and I thought I saw him. Colt, I mean. It wasn't actually him, but... I have a bad feeling, Alecia."

"No way it was him," she says. "You know mine and Brett's is always the first place he goes when he's in town."

"Yeah, I know. But it felt like, I don't know..." I shake my head. "Wow, I sound weird. I'm going to go, okay?"

"No, hold up. Let me buy you breakfast."

"Why would you do that?"

"Look, I know I've been acting sketch about you staying at our place, but it's only because of Colton. I still care about you, Luce."

I bite my lip and chill out in the seat. "Okay. Sorry. Yeah, maybe a bit of food wouldn't hurt."

A waitress comes our way, and we order coffee and pancakes.

"So..." Alecia gives me a devious smile. "Tell me about the new boyfriend."

Despite everything, I can't help but grin a little. "What do you want to know?"

"What he looks like, what his paychecks are like, how big his dick is. You know. The usual." With each point, Alecia holds up one of her manicured fingers, and I can't help but laugh.

"Okay, fine. He's cute. And tall. Like six-foot-something tall. And he has these really blue eyes. His face goes bright red whenever he's embarrassed, and honestly, it's adorable. He's eighteen, and he's an incredible hockey player. There, happy now?"

"Nope, I need more."

I laugh a little; having a girly talk like this is weird, but in a way, I like it. "He works at some hipster grocery store, and I don't know how much he makes, but it doesn't matter. His family has a really nice home. That's where I've been staying."

"And?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't know how big his dick is, Alecia."

Her jaw drops. "Seriously? He's letting you stay with him and you're not even putting out?"

"Yep."

"Wow." She whistles. "He sounds like a keeper."

"He is."

"You should totally get knocked up."

"Shut up!"

We both laugh, and it's kind of nice. Alecia and I haven't always gotten along, but we're still friends. Sometimes I forget that.

As we eat the maple sugary pancakes, we lose ourselves in conversations about whatever; her job at the grocery store, her plans to go to college for nursing next year, Brett's promotion at the factory he works. I tell her I'm proud she and Brett have gotten clean. When we first met, they were always high like Colt, but they've managed to get away from that life. Now the only thing they need to cleanse themselves of is Colton Slater himself.

Easier said than done.

When I'm on my second pancake, Alecia asks, "Luce, one more thing I wanted to ask you about while Brett's not around."

"Yeah?"

"It's about Colton. About what happened before you ran away from him."

I stiffen. "What about it, Alecia?"

"You never talk about it. Hell, you never even really told me what happened. Every time I ask Brett, he says it's your story to tell, and yours alone."

My chest tightens. I never talk about it because most days, I can barely handle thinking about it. But Alecia needs to know, and maybe if I tell her, I'll be able to tell Elliot, too.

So I tell her.

About the motel he brought me to last year, right when I was fed up of being with him that I was willing to do anything to get away. Alecia already knows it'd been that way for the two years prior; that Colt and I had one good year together before I started to realize what he was. But I had seen his temper. I had felt it, too. And I didn't know how he would react when I told him I wanted to leave him.

The motel was grimy; they all were. We didn't live in a single place, just travelled around, stayed at Brett and Alecia's or with Colt's family in Toronto, sometimes the trailer park he grew up in. Mostly, it was motels.

He'd gone to the vending machine to grab chips, which would be our dinner that night, when I tried to run. He caught me. He dragged me back into the motel room and threw me on the bed, and I finally broke down. I told him I hated him. I told him I never loved him. Then, I tried to run.

This time, when he caught me, he didn't throw me on the bed; he threw me into the bathroom. My head clinked against the ceramic sink, and my vision went white. When it returned, Colt's eyes were glaring into mine, and I couldn't breathe. His hands were wrapped around my throat, and it felt as though my brain was going to explode.

I was going to die. For a moment, I accepted it; accepted that choosing to follow him when I was a fourteen-year-old girl was the worst decision I ever made. But then, in the corner of my eye, I noticed a soap holder. It must have fallen when he threw me into the sink. So I grabbed it and smashed it off his head so hard his blood splattered the white tile floor.

Then, I ran. That time, he didn't catch me.

That was how all of this began; the running, the sleeping in buildings. My homelessness. I've been hiding ever since.

By the time I'm done telling my story, Alecia's eyes are pained. "I knew it was bad, but oh my God... I'm so sorry, Lucy."

I nod and thank her. We sit in silence for a long time, poking at what's left of our food.

The door to the restaurant dings. Alecia looks up, then does a double take. Her face drops. "Lucy, look down."

"What?"

"Keep your head down. Don't look up."

I focus on the pool of maple syrup on my plate. Heavy footsteps clap the tile, and in my peripherals, the waitress cleans up the plates of the only other couple in the diner who just left. When a hand grips my shoulder and squeezes, my pulse erupts. I can already feel the bruise forming beneath his thumb, digging into me with as much strength as he has. And believe me, I'm all too familiar with his strength. His voice growls all around me.

"I've been looking for you, Lucy."

Everything slows. My heart pummels my ribcage and my blood turns to ice. I dare to look up, only to meet his stare. Colt's eyes are blue-green, murky like pond water covered in algae and bugs. His skin has an orange hue, and his sandy blond hair is buzzed to his head, half-hidden by his black hood. Colt sits beside me and rests his arm along the back of the booth, tickling my other shoulder with his thumb. I peek at Alecia, who has her eyes clenched shut as another guy, one I've never seen before, sits beside her.

"Ladies," Colt says, "how was your breakfast?"

The waitress trots up to the table. "Mornin', gentlemen! What can I get yah?"

Colt waves her away, a sick smirk on his face. "Oh, no, we're good. Thanks, ma'am. We're just picking up our girls."

He's holding my shoulder again and squeezing and it hurts so, so much I want to cry, but I can't tell this waitress what's going on; she won't be able to do a thing. Still, when she leaves like nothing's wrong, a hole is ripped into my heart. He found me. I never should have left Elliot's house. I pray this isn't real. That I fell and hit my head and now I'm having a bad dream. Maybe I'm still at Elliot's, cuddling his hockey bear, wishing it was him.

But I never wake up. No matter how many times I blink, I'm still in the diner.

"I think we should go," Colt says. He pays for our bill. Alecia and I are guided out of the restaurant, Colt grabbing my bicep, the other guy holding Alecia. They stuff us into the back of a car. The other guy gets into the driver's seat while Colt is in the passenger's side, and Alecia and I huddle closer to each other. She grabs my hand. The driver turns on the car, but doesn't go. We idle in silence for several thick, palpable moments, where Colt's breathing gets heavier, his face redder. With his hood down, I can see the scar through his short hair from where I struck him last year. Alecia's tremors shake my arm. I have to do something.

"Colt, I—"

"Shut up." He smashes his fist against the dashboard so hard, it shakes the whole car. Alecia yelps. To the driver, Colt says, "Head to Murphy's place. We'll deal with this there."

Alecia and I keep our mouths shut the whole way there. Colt turns the radio on to some Papa Roach song, but all I can think is: This can't be real. It can't be.

But it is. And now I have to ask myself if this is the last car ride I'll ever take.

Time blurs. Before I know it, Alecia and I are being shoved into her apartment. Brett is inside smoking a cigarette, but stuffs it in the ashtray when he sees us, the colour draining from his face.

"Did you know about this?" Colt asks. The other guy guards the door like a bouncer. Alecia and I stand near each other and cower.

"He—he didn't know," Alecia peeps. "Brett had nothing to do with it."

"It's true," I say, but can't look at him.

When the hit comes, I'm braced, but not ready. Colt grips my throat and smashes my back against the wall. His hands constrict my windpipe until everything is black. Brett and Alecia yell, but their voices fade in and out. My vision bleeds from pitch darkness to white, and I'm cold. Still. Silent. My thoughts echo.

Please stop, Colt. I can't die here. Not today. I have too much to live for.

Things will get better when I'm eighteen, but I still have to get there. Is this really it for me? All that running, all that hiding, for this?

My childhood home flashes before my eyes. The regal wallpaper, the long yard that stretched to the forest. My mother's face. It was so freckled, just like mine. She was callous toward me, but of all the memories I have of her, I choose one that happened in a field by a swing set. She gave me a warm smile as dandelion fluffs floated around her head.

Colt's grip tightens. I see Godfrey's streets. The nights I spent alone in the cold, the beatings I took. It can't all have been for nothing, right? I can't give up here. I have to try.

It's like speaking through a tube, but I croak, "Colt, stop. Please."

He drops me. I plunge to the floor and land on the grey carpet. Air sucks into my lungs, and a pair of delicate hands touch me, wafting the smell of flowery perfume to my nose.

"You okay?" Alecia rubs my back in a soothing, circular motion, but the pain is throbbing. She pulls me up by my arm. Brett latches onto Colt, but he tugs away from his grasp, his face beet red, the veins in his neck popping out like the roots of a tree.

"Colt, calm down, man!" Brett shouts.

"Back the fuck off, Murphy!"

"She's a little girl, man, come on."

Colt's eyes flare as he takes a deep, trembling breath.

"Seriously," Brett says, "not cool, man. We don't hit girls—that's not right, Colt."

"I didn't hit her." He wipes his mouth. "I choked her the fuck out."

Brett puts his hand on Colt's chest as he tries to come at me again. Colt smacks him away.

"Don't fucking touch me, man. It's cool. I'm not gonna hurt her."

I shove Alecia out of Colt's warpath and stagger back. "Stay away from me. Please, stay back. Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm sorry, babe. My head's not on right."

Babe. My stomach lurches. I'm going to throw up. Please, for the love of God, don't tell me he actually still loves me. Somehow, that scares me more than him killing me.

Alecia and I scream when Colt grabs my arm. "Luce and I need to talk."

"I can't let you hurt her," Brett says.

"I won't." He pinches the back of my neck and forces me to walk with him. His strength is like an earthquake, an unstoppable force of destruction and chaos. This is what Colt does; he rips worlds apart. And now I'm fucked. I'm fucked.

He hurls me into Brett's room and slams the door behind him. I skitter to the bed and press my back to the wall so I'm as far away as I can get. Fuck, this can't be real. Holding his fist over his mouth, Colt paces back and forth. "I can deal with this. We can deal with this, Lucy. So, you fucking left me after everything that I did for you, but—" Rage pours from his teeth as be punches a hole in the wall. Cold tears drip down my cheeks. "We can move past this."

I nod. I don't know what else to do.

"We can move past this," Colt says. "Now, I'm gonna pretend I don't know those two out there fucking betrayed me and helped hide you from me. You shouldn't have left me, Lucy. That was a mistake."

"I know. I'm—I didn't mean to, Colt. I made a mistake. I was scared."

"You're back now, that's all that matters. And you're gonna stay." He walks up to the edge of the bed and towers over me like a volcano on the verge of erupting. "Right?"

"Yes. Right."

I know him better than I know myself. Colt's angry and confused, but mostly, he's hurt. He deals with pain through violence and fury. I've shattered his heart into pieces, but I don't care. I hate him. I want him dead.

"I can't deal with this right now," he says. "I need to sort my head out. I'm going back to Toronto to finish my business. But I'll be back tomorrow, Lucy. If you're not here, next time I find you, I won't let go of your neck. Do you hear me?" Eyes shut, I nod. "Brett has a soft spot for bitches, but I don't. I don't give a fuck if you're weak. And if you don't come back, Brett and Alecia are done too. You got that? If you leave again, I will find you. After they pay for it."

"I get it. I'll be here, Colt. I promise."

He looks at me. A long, scathing hot moment. Then he storms out of the room. Brett says something, followed by the front door slamming.

Colt's gone, but he still has me in his chokehold. He might as well have snapped my neck against that wall because my life is over.

Brett and Alecia burst into the room.

"Luce, I'm sorry," Brett says.

I hide my face between my knees. "Oh God, this is real, isn't it?"

Alecia sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry... I didn't know. I didn't think he'd see us."

"No, no, no." I hold my head. "I survived. I escaped him. I got away. This can't be happening. I have to kill him. I'm going to slip poison into his drink and fucking kill him!"

Alecia touches my arm. "No, baby, you're not."

I hate it, but she's right. I could never kill Colt, no matter how much I want him dead. A part of me will always be in his debt, and that's what I hate the most.

"I need to get out of here," I say. "I'll come back later, I promise. But I need to go."