That's the name of the girl I invited into my house, the girl I lost my virginity to. It wasn't Katie Starling, or Amber Blackwell, or any girl at my school. It was Lucy Pembroke. And it blows my fucking mind that I can care so much about someone I don't know at all, but every time I look at my bed, I see her in my sheets. Every time I go to sleep, I feel her legs wrapped around me. It's torture.

I've been in bed thinking about her on repeat for hours. Sleet pounds the window, and my high runs thin. I need another hit, but something's going on downstairs—sounds like Charlotte's done throwing up. Mom and Dad must be yelling at her.

So here I am, staring at the ceiling with the lights off, waiting for nothing. I should've invited Lucy here instead of meeting her at Starbucks. Maybe I could've changed her mind. Maybe I should've done something differently.

I pick up my phone and press the home button. The light strains my eyes. I could text her, but is there a point? Lucy made it clear she doesn't want my help. My vision goes red thinking about the guy who hurts her. Whoever this asshole is, I have to do something. I have to help her.

"El? Are you home?" It's Mom. My phone drops against my cheek bone and I tilt my head to the side until it falls off.

"Yeah, in here."

Mom opens the door, and the light from the hallway seeps in. I pull my blankets over my head and hiss like a vampire as she steps inside. "Honey, how long have you been laying like this?"

"Four hours," I deadpan.

"That isn't funny, El."

"I'm fine, Mom."

"Is it about Lucy? Ollie mentioned you went to meet her." I'm silent. I wish she wouldn't, but Mom sits on the edge of the bed. "I know you don't want to talk about girls with your mom, but—"

"Mom, come on... seriously."

"Fine. I won't push you on it."

"How's Charlotte?"

"Inebriated. Still very inebriated. She's done throwing up, but..." Mom sighs. "I don't know what's gotten into her lately. Do you have any idea, El?"

Every time Charlotte acts out, I can't help but blame myself for that time I caved and gave her weed. But it was just weed, right? Charlotte would still be like this if I hadn't given it to her... right?

Mom's blinking at me, waiting for an answer, so I say, "Sorry, no idea, Mom. I think she's just going through a party phase."

"Well, I had one of those too when I was her age. With any hope, this whole experience will wake her up." One last sigh, and Mom stands up. "All right, sweetie. I'll leave you alone now." She forces a kiss on my forehead, but I squirm away.

"Oh my God, stop."

She laughs and shuts the door behind her. The darkness drowns me again. I'd never show it, but I do appreciate her affection. I guess it's okay to know some people care about me. Even if it's just my stupid parents.

Crossing my arms behind my head, I spiral back into thinking about Lucy. I can't believe she's with some abusive asshole. What if he hits her? What if he—

I shudder and clench my eyes shut. No, I can't picture that. It physically hurts. I have to do something.

My MacBook rests on my desk and shines in the moonlight.

Fuck it.

Tearing out of bed, I slide into the chair and open my laptop. On Facebook, I type Lucy Pembroke into the search bar and tap my foot like a jackhammer against the hardwood floor, rattling the cup of pencils on my desk. A few profiles in Godfrey pop up under that name, but not one who looks like her.

So I go to Google.

My chest pounds as the cursor blinks. Okay, slow down a minute. Am I really gonna do this? Google Lucy like a fucking stalker?

No, it's not stalking... I'm a concerned friend. Or a secret agent. Whatever I need to tell myself, because this is happening. I type her name and press enter. Random LinkedIn profiles show up, so I add "Godfrey."

That yields more results.

Alastair Pembroke, CEO of Godfrey Financial, found dead. Daughter, Lucy, missing.

My heart sinks into the pits of my stomach. Jesus Christ.

Alastair Pembroke dead. Lucy Pembroke missing. Lucy Pembroke found. Murder or suicide? Nameless boyfriend "just a theory."

My airways tighten until I can't breathe. These could be about any of the Lucy Pembrokes I saw on Facebook, right? My finger trembles over the mousepad. Do I even want to know more? Will I ever see her again? Because that last kiss felt like a goodbye.

With sandpaper on my tongue, I click an article about this Alastair Pembroke's death. The layout loads a photo next to a body of text. A man with a moustache stands next to a woman with freckles and brown hair, and beneath them, a little girl with straight bangs. Lucy. I'd recognize that cute, impish face anywhere.

My head spins. I don't know this girl at all.

When something raps at my window, I slam my laptop shut and fall back in the chair, landing on the floor in several loud crashes. My leg is somehow twisted up in the feet of the chair, and I'm face-to-face with my ceiling.

"El? Are you okay?" Mom calls from the other room.

"Fine, Mom." I kick the chair away. "I fell, sorry."

"Well, keep it down," Dad grumbles. "I'm tryin' to sleep in here."

I must be insane. I swear I heard something knock. My heart thunders as I look at the wall.

There's a face in my window.

I grab the scissors on my desk because this is a literal nightmare. But the cute little face isn't ghoulish or monster-like—it's Lucy's. She mouths, "Let me in," but I'm too dumbstruck to budge. When she knocks on the glass, I scramble to the bed and open the window. Cold wind follows her with specks of snow as she slides into my room.

"Oh my god, Lucy. Did you crawl all the way up here? You could've gotten hurt! And my parents are home, they'll kill me if they catch you."

"Then we'll have to keep this quiet." She sits on the edge of the bed. Her teeth chatter and she rubs her hands together, her eyelashes coated in frost. Instead of the red coat from earlier, she's back in the leather one. The one she used to always wear with me.

"Were you spying on me?" I shut the window.

"No, I just got here." She glares. "But I saw what you were doing."

"I could've been doing anything, Lucy, Jesus Christ."

"I would have preferred you to be doing anything than what you were doing. You were Googling me."

I gulp. "Yeah. I was."

"What the hell, Elliot? I gave you my last name because I trusted you not to do that."

"Well... I did."

With a huff, she blows her bangs from her face. "And what did you find?"

"Not much, yet. I only clicked on one article. It said you went missing, and about your father..." I clear my throat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry about him."

We sit close to each other on the bed. Part of me wants to wrap my arm around her, but a bigger part of me is so mind-boggled I can't think. "Why're you here?" I ask.

"I don't know. I miss you, Elliot. I thought I could walk away earlier, but I couldn't. I guess I'm weak." Her lip trembles. "Are you mad?"

"I'm a little disturbed you came without warning, but don't get me wrong... I'm happy to see you. Of course I'm not mad."

We fall quiet. Lucy knocks her knees together, and I rub the back of my neck.

"I don't like silence," she says. "I know you're thinking about what you saw on Google so can you spit it out?"

I nearly laugh. "I don't know what to say, Luce. I don't know a thing about you."

"I know."

"Who are you?"

She smiles, but her eyes crinkle with sadness. "You know who I am."

"No, I really don't."

"You do, though. El, you're the only one I've ever felt I could be myself with." Lucy bites her bottom lip and peers up at me. Ugh, no, don't do that. Now I want to kiss her. She's so pretty, and we're all alone, and—

Get a hold of yourself. Lucy moves even closer and carries her smell of roses, but there's someone else's shampoo on her hair, reminding me that everything has changed.

"That's nice and all," I say, "but I'm gonna need a little more than that."

Pouting, Lucy leans back. "Yeah. That's fair."

I can taste the tension in the room, bitter like salt on my lips. This is way too serious. Maybe if I can wipe that frown off her lips, I can get her to talk.

"What are you smiling about?" she asks with a scowl.

"What if I tell you some personal stuff about me? Would that help?"

"That doesn't explain why you're smiling like an idiot."

Because it makes you smile. "Would it help?"

Lucy nods.

"Okay." I take a deep breath. "Well, I'm prone to nervous breakdowns, but I'm also really apathetic. I'm a perfectionist, but also a lazy idiot who does nothing but sleep. Sometimes I feel a lot of things, but other times, I don't really feel anything at all. So, basically, I'm a walking contradiction."

Lucy laughs. "Wow. Why do you think that is?"

I tense up. I could drop my diagnosis on her, but that's not funny. "It's just the way I am. Now it's your turn. Are you really the daughter of some rich CEO?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know it's hard to imagine." She gestures down at her body, where there are holes in her jeans.

"It's not hard to imagine at all. When you showed me your violin skills, I guess I kinda knew."

"Playing the violin's the only thing I have left from that part of my life. My parents had money, yeah, but I wasn't exactly spoiled rotten. And so much has happened to me since they died, sometimes it's like they never existed at all."

"So—"

"It's your turn now."

"Oh, okay. Well, I have to see the school counsellor once a week to keep my behaviour in check." I enunciate like Mrs. Pickle, all prim and proper, and Lucy giggles. The way her heart-shaped lips quirk, and how she hides her gap tooth from me, makes me fall for her all over again—not that I ever stopped. I can't help myself, I have to touch her, so I reach out and stroke her cheek with my thumb. She meets my eyes and holds her hand over mine.

"I want to tell you everything, El, but I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"That you'll think I'm a monster."

"No, why would I think you're a monster? Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I don't know if I can."

"Don't you trust me?"

"More than anyone."

"Then tell me the truth. I won't judge you, I promise."

Lucy hides her face for several long, painful moments, before she takes a deep breath. "Okay. I'm going to tell you. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. If you want me to leave after, I'll understand."

"There's no way that'll happen."

Tears drip down her cheeks, and Lucy catches them with her sleeve. I touch the zipper of her jacket and wait for her approval. She doesn't pull away, so I help her take it off. "Might as well get comfy," I say.

Lucy sets her jacket aside and sits cross-legged "My dad wasn't exactly a good man." She laughs and blinks out tears. "What am I saying? He was a horrible piece of shit. He did things to me, Elliot."

"Huh?"

"He did things to me. Like, sexual things."

The burrito I ate earlier churns in my stomach and sends a gurgle to my throat. Did she just—is she being serious? I gag and cover my mouth, and Lucy sobs.

"You think I'm disgusting." She hides her eyes with her palms. "I knew I shouldn't have told you."

"What?" My stomach settles, so I grab both of her hands. "God, no. No, I think that's—" Her eyebrows tug together in hurt and confusion, like she hates herself, like she blames herself. "You're not disgusting, Lucy. What happened to you is. I'm sorry... that just really shocked me."

She brings her knees to her chest and rests her chin between them. "Yeah. It's whatever."

I don't know what to say. I'm such an idiot. Now Lucy's lips are zipped shut. "Can you tell me more about what happened?" I ask. "Did you ever... report him? Or go to someone for help?"

She scoffs. "I tried to tell my mom, but she wouldn't listen. She was in denial. She told me I was crazy. And that if I told anyone else, they'd think I was crazy, too."

"Wow. She helped cover it up..."

"Basically. But she was in denial about it completely. She was a fucked-up bitch."

I flinch. I can't even imagine saying something like that about my mom. I mean, she annoys me sometimes, but she's still kind and gentle and the best mom I could ask for. But Lucy's mom let her own husband violate their daughter in their house. That's fucked up—she deserves to be hated.

"So." I swallow my sickness. "What happened next?"

"She disappeared. My dad thought maybe she moved back with her family in Malaysia, but we were never able to find her. So as far as I'm concerned, she's dead."

"Oh."

"Yeah, when I was thirteen. I guess she couldn't live in denial anymore that her husband was a sick, perverted fuck." Lucy's stare drifts over my wall. "She wasn't all bad, to be honest. I liked her a hell of a lot more than I liked my dad. I was sad when she abandoned us, but I'll never forgive her for leaving me with him."

"Well, what happened after she left?"

"I was alone with my father for a year, and in that year, I met someone. Colton. The guy I told you about earlier. He was older than me—I didn't know how much older, but I don't think it would have changed anything. I needed to get away from my dad. When I told Colt what he did to me, he..." She shudders and hides her face, and I rub my thumb along her knee.

"You can tell me, Lucy."

"Okay. When I told Colt what he did, he said he'd take care of it for me. I said, I don't care how you do it, just make him go away. I don't know what I was thinking—I really don't. I didn't care. But I guess it didn't cross my mind that he'd actually—" She swallows, her face pale. "I realize now what I did. I put a hit on my father. I told Colt to kill him, and he did."

Chills crawl up my spine. "I saw something like that on Google..." But holy fuck, I wasn't prepared for it to be true.

"Yeah. Someone I went to school with knew I was dating an older guy, so I guess they told the cops. I don't know. But my dad was a known alcoholic, so no one was surprised when he killed himself, especially so soon after my mom left. The cops eventually dropped it."

I snatch a glass of water off my nightstand and chug it back. My head's spinning like I'm on an anti-gravity ride, but I need her to finish. I need to know the truth. "What happened to you after that? Some of those articles said you went missing."

"I went into hiding." She laughs bitterly. "I followed Colt around like his pet dog. I waited until I was sixteen to reveal to the public I was still alive. If I'd gone before then, they would have taken me away, but at sixteen, I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. That was the only way I'd still be able to get my inheritance, but it won't go through until I'm eighteen."

"I see..."

"It was wrong, but still. Colt did what my mom never could. He saved me from my father. And because of that, I felt loyal to him. But as the years went on, I realized I'd traded one monster for another. So I ran away from him. That was a year ago. The day of our last night together, Colt found me again and said if I didn't come back to him, he'd hurt my friends. And if he were to ever find out about you, El... I don't know what he'd do."

The walls collapse around me. I shut my eyes and breathe slow. "Is that all of it?"

"Yeah. That's all of it. Now you know who I really am. If you want me to leave, I—"

"I don't want you to leave. And for the record, you didn't kill your dad. You didn't know what you were asking this Colt guy to do, so it wasn't your fault. And by the sounds of it, he was way older than you. He probably wants your dad's money."

"He does, but like I said, I won't get anything until I'm eighteen." Lucy crosses her arms. "Is it horrible I would have rather seen my father go to jail as a child molester? He never would have survived in there with a charge like that on his head. That's a worse fate than death."

"I guess I agree, but just so you know, I don't think you did anything illegal. You were a kid, Luce. Are you scared to tell the cops about Colton because you're worried you'll get in trouble?"

Her eyes narrow. "No. That's not why."

"Then tell the cops that Colt killed your dad. They already theorized it. They'll do an investigation and—"

"And they'll find no proof," she snaps. "And Colt will know I ratted on him and it won't just be me at risk, it will be my friends, too. And you, Elliot."

"Are you afraid he'll kill someone again?"

"I'm afraid of a lot of things he could do. Colt's more than just a killer now, he's a drug dealer. He has a crew."

"Then we need to take him off the streets—"

Lucy grabs my shoulders and flips herself on top of me. She wraps her legs around me and grazes my neck with her fingertips, making me shiver. My mouth goes dry, but this isn't right—we're not done talking.

"Elliot, stop," she murmurs, her breath warm against my skin. "No police. It's too risky, okay? You have to promise not to tell."

"He's a murderer."

Her half-lidded eyes stare at my lips, and the severity of our conversation fades fast. She's intoxicating me, wrapping me around her finger like a ribbon, and she knows exactly what she's doing. I have shit self-control and I've been dreaming of this for days.

Ugh, God help me.

"Can we stop talking about this for a while?" She brushes her lips on mine. "I didn't just come here to talk."

"Lucy—"

She grinds her hips into mine. I'm losing myself, but I try to hold back, I really do. "Don't," I whisper, then I kiss her anyway.

Well, Dad's right about one thing: I really don't think five minutes before my face.

Instant gratification, that's all that was, and now I'm sitting on the edge of the bed and holding my head between my hands, my stomach tied in knots. Why did I do that? She'll just leave again.

"Elliot..." Lucy hugs me from behind. "What's wrong?"

I refuse to meet her eyes. "Did you sleep with me just to shut me up?"

"That was part of it, maybe. But not all. I wanted you." She traces my arm with her fingertips, but I shift away. With heavy eyelids, I look over my shoulder at a half-naked Lucy wrapped up in my blankets. It's a beautiful sight, I'll say that, but the ecstasy is gone now. I've plummeted back to reality.

"Do you sleep with him?" I ask.

She leans back, offended. "Only when I have to. I sure as hell don't enjoy it."

"So he..." I clear my throat. "He assaults you."

She looks away. "Yeah. I guess."