Social services had dumped me at my brand new house the day after I was released from the police station after being declared a run-away by the previous family who hadn't give two shits about me.

Thankfully, the family's children, (two boys, from what the mother had said) were already gone to school.

I didn't have time to shower, only to say hello to my temporary foster mother who was sheltering me until they could find a more permanent solution for me and put on my school uniform and get out the door.

The woman was in her mid-forties and stunningly beautiful. It was her work with the social services division as a family lawyer that gave her access to more...high profile kids like me.

Then again, hardly anyone batted an eye at my file as it slid across the desk anymore. The Astor name was infamous, but Camille Astor was not.

My belongings had all fit into one giant duffle bag (not counting my school back pack) that I'd brought with me to Colton's house. I'd filled it up after he left for school that morning exactly one week ago, pretending to be sick so he'd leave without me, and packed up everything that belonged to me.

I didn't care if I had to sleep on the park bench. I wasn't going to go back to him.

My feet took me to the police station, where I reported him.

It didn't do anything, of course. It never did. But at least I put his name on a statement, even if the cops didn't believe anything I said.

Once I called my case worker and my last name got thrown around, as well as my inheritance money tied up in my trust with the state that would eventually belong to me, however, the police started changing their tune.

I got an exclusive trip to the hospital for a rape kit, and even the nurses smiled at me.

Why couldn't I get this kind of treatment in the homes I was placed in? Oh yeah, because my money would never affect them.

But the trust overseen by lawyers to take care of every medical and legal bill, however? The trust that would pay handsomely once billed? That got people to sit up and take proper notice.

Maybe when I came into my millions, I'd donate a wing to the hospital who treated me so gently. Maybe I'd donate to the officer's campaign for Sheriff if he handled my case correctly.

I was nothing but a walking dollar sign to these people, but if it got me the justice I needed, then I wouldn't care.

Colton was brought in for questioning the next day while I was sat in a cushy conference room in the same building, and I was so dissociated from my own emotions that when someone asked me for a banana, I started laughing hysterically.

They looked at me like I was crazy.

The room smelled like moth balls and molding walls, but when the female detective assigned to my case came in with gourmet coffee and a pitying smile on her face, I knew it was the end.

"It's a he-said, she-said situation. There's no evidence of foul play, no restraining marks on your skin, and all the evidence points to consensual sex, as well as the fact that you two were practically living together. No jury is going to convict without substantial proof."

"I said no."

"The jury will be sympathetic to him because he's a young man with his whole life ahead of him."

"I said no."

"If you'd fought back, punched, kicked, done something--"

"I said NO!"

The memories washed over me like a slithering oily snake.

At least they hadn't booked me for running away, like my old foster parents had wanted.

Instead, and god bless her, my case worker had found me a family amenable to a run away foster, and I ended up on their doorstep.

I hadn't prepared enough to come back to school, though, and even if this new foster mom--Maria--had known about the circumstances surrounding what had happened with me, my case worker made it apparent that skipping school would make me truant, and any adult in my care would get in trouble if I didn't get my ass to school.

As if I could survive falling behind in my classes anymore than I already had.

"Alright Cami. I'm only a phone call away if you need me, and I haven't told my boys what's going on, but I can give you their numbers if you want to text them the situation if you need anything at all."

She was sweet. Kind. She'd even packed me a lunch with specialty kale salad and vegan chips. I sometimes wondered about my mom, if she would've turned out to be someone like her.

Maria squeezed my shoulder but I reared back as if she'd hit me.

She didn't flinch, but an old sadness swallowed up her features.

"Right. I forgot about the after effects. I'm sorry, no more touching. Got it."

"No it's--" I started, wanting to be more than just a shell of a girl that she'd drop at a moment's notice for being such a burden.

"No, it's not okay, and it won't be for a while. It'll never be okay. But while he might've taken a few moments of you, a few seconds or minutes of your dignity and your pride and your soul, he can't take anything more than what you keep giving him. So let him keep those moments, that fear and pain, but don't give him anything else. He's not worth it."

Oh, from the old anguish swimming in tearful blue eyes, it was clear to me what she'd been through, maybe why she'd agreed to take me in.

I'd heard her fighting with another social worker through my case worker's door, arguing about me not being allowed in a home with two teenaged boys, but she'd shut them down instantly. How, I had no idea, but she wanted me in her home, and someone wanting me was a big change, so I went with it.

Wasn't like I had anywhere else to go, anyway.

"Thank you," I whispered to her, voice thick with unshed tears that I refused to let fall.

She reached out a hand like she wanted to grasp my cheek but thought better of it.

Who was this woman and where had she come from? Surely I couldn't have gotten this lucky...

To have someone who actually cared.

Someone who saw behind the dollar signs and glimpsed the damaged, fragile girl beneath my hardened walls that I portrayed to the outside world.

Someone who'd scaled walls even rougher and sharp spiked than mine and won, cresting over the top to view the sensitive insides of a traumatized soul.

"Here's your pass to the counselor. You don't even have to go to the office; it's like a get-out-of-jail-free card whenever you need it. Just show it to your teacher and you're good to go."

I nodded and swallowed over the lump cresting in my throat, then stared at the imposing walls of the school I'd come to loathe.

Maria's car didn't leave until I was inside the school, and by then it was too late to run. Everyone had already seen me.

Colton and his friends were there--the girls and Parker, Carter, Alec...

I didn't need superhuman hearing to know what they were joking about.

Did Colton tell all his friends?

We'd managed a restraining order, but still, having to see him everyday at school meant parts of it were inevitable.

He couldn't keep five hundred feet away from me at all times if the hallways were this thin, this narrow, closing in on me like blood vessels constricting with each thump of my racing heart.

Panic shot through me like an arrow from a taut bowstring.

Sweat rolled down my back like a bead of poison.

My legs shook like the branches of a tree in a windstorm.

I didn't think twice before darting past the group of laughing friends into an awaiting classroom where I broke down, body and soul erupting in a silent sob that tore through my body like a weapon of mass destruction.

A malestrom of fear and shame wiggled its way into my mind, shoving rational thought out through crevices in my nose and ears.

Could I have fought back harder, done more? Shrieked and yelled and bucked him off and punched and kicked and scratched and fought and fought and fought until he knew--

but what would the point have been?

Could I could I could I could I could i why would i try why even try at all why why why why why

let him keep those moments, that fear and pain, but don't give him anything else

Could I have fought harder? Yes. Why didn't I? Did I think I wasn't worth it?

The next time someone tried to hurt me, to pressure me into something I didn't want, I would fight.

I'd fight like goddamn hell, because I was worth it, even if I didn't feel like it sometimes.

I was worth it.

I had just plugged the hole in my emotions and began collecting myself when a chair in the corner squeaked and I whirled, heart a raging inferno inside my chest as I came face to face with the most beautiful person I'd ever seen.

Hair as black as night, matching the jacket and boots he wore, he was familiar and unfamiliar all at once, like I'd seen him in passing, but hadn't given him enough of my attention to fully admire him in person.

"Who are you?"

He didn't answer, only tilted his head to the side.

He filled up the entire doorway, his height staggering as I realized that I was shut inside a room with a man who had the potential to hurt me.

I had to get out of this.

Sharp, angled cheekbones adorned his face, accentuating the light brown eyes that stood out amongst his tan skin.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go."

I stood, straightening my skirt and grabbing my bag from where it had fallen on the floor, thanking whatever holy gods above that I'd grabbed every school book I'd needed from Colton's house before the mass exodus.

He didn't move. Like a still frame from a 1950's photo given colorization, he blocked the exit.

Wait. His name suddenly surfaced to my mind. This was Parker's older brother, Grey Hartingrove. The 'outcast'. Seemed to me like he gave himself that nickname, dressing and acting how he did.

Seriously, didn't this guy ever talk? It was freaking me out.

I rolled my eyes and spoke while I used sign language at the same time, "What, are you deaf?"

His eyes jolted in surprise, like he hadn't known that I could use sign language, before using his hands to sign back to me.

"No, but I don't speak."

It was my turn to be shocked.

I had lived with a deaf foster sister for a year, spending all that time learning the language in and out before they'd found her somewhere else to go, and I had left soon after that. I still texted her from time to time.

She'd found a forever home. I was happy for her.

I didn't sign anymore since his hearing was fine.

"So, you're mute?"

He nodded, not giving anything else away.

"Well, this has been interesting, but I really need to get to class."

Still he didn't move.

"Okay, I know you're not deaf. Please move."

His mouth quirked up on one side, apparently amused at my annoyance.

"So you can use sign language to speak, but you'd rather just not say anything at all to be an asshole, is that it?"

He merely shrugged his shoulders, light brown eyes alight with a humor that danced in his irises like something akin to happiness.

"Excuse me," I said, moving as close to him as I could bare, but then I was swallowed up in his scent.

His cologne wrapped around me and threatened to bring me to my knees. Fuck, why did he have to smell so damn good?

I came up to his shoulders, and he only looked down on me as his body silently shook with restrained laughter.

I wondered briefly why he was mute, but then cast the thought away immediately.

I brushed up against his body as I edged past him through the doorway, and the slight touch was thrilling--and terrifying--enough that I walked as fast as I could (more like ran) down the hallway as the tardy bell rang.

Maria texted me before I walked in my first class.