I find the douche bag in the kitchen, near the drink section, chatting with some girl from our school, standing a bit awkwardly as he throws back a shot.

Of course he’d be with a fucking girl.

He spots me when I’m about two steps away from him, and by the way the color drains from his face, I can tell he knows why I’m here, and he’s afraid. He fucking should be. I had been good at refraining from violence for a while, but I’m making an exception right now for Lyric.

I don’t even slow down as I reach him, my feet keeping momentum as I crane my arm back. He starts to stagger back into the counter, but not quick enough, and I bash my knuckles straight into his nose. There’s a crack then blood streams from his nostrils, and then he crumples to the floor. The crowd creates a gap as people skitter away from the scene, some cursing, and a few girls even start crying.

“You’re going to fucking pay for that,” he growls as he rolls onto his back, cupping his bloody nose.

I crouch down beside him, and his eyes widen and fill with fear. “If you ever so much as look at Lyric again, I will put you in the hospital. You got it?”

He shakes his head, cursing as blood drips down the back of his hands. “I’m going to sue your ass for this.”

I lean down in his face. “Do. You. Get. What. I’m. Saying?”

Scowling, he nods. It takes every amount of my strength to stand up without punching him in the face again.

By the time I reach the stairway, my fists are trembling and blood is staining my knuckles and scars. I start to hyperventilate. I try to force the images back, but the flashbacks are too intense this time and emotions overwhelm me.

Claws.

Blood.

The walls are closing in.

They tell me this is how life is supposed to be.

For me to be trapped.

Confined.

A prisoner in a home filled with madness.

That my mother stuck me in.

Gave me up.

Just like that.

As if I was a stray dog she didn’t want.

I can almost feel the metal biting at my wrist, and all I can do is grip onto the railing, and pray they’ll be over soon.

That I’ll forget again.

Chapter 10

Lyric

This is one of the worst nights of my life. I’m lucky, though. It could have gone a lot worse. William could have gotten what he was trying to steal. He got as far as kissing me and reaching under my dress before I managed to knee the crap out of his balls. Then he collapsed to the floor, and I ran out of the room.

But the damn idiot stole my first kiss!

That I can never get back.

And now Ayden has gone after him to do God knows what. I’ve never seen him that pissed off before. It has me extremely worried.

I’d been hiding out in the bathroom, embarrassed about how I looked, like everyone would be able to tell what happened by my appearance.

After sending Ayden countless texts, I give up and crack the door open, peering into the hallway. I spot Sage, his bright blue hair making him stand out like a bluebird in a sea of crows. He definitely has his own unique style. Tall and lean, he wears a lot of different shades of clothing, yet all of them are dark with murky tones. He has countless piercings, including three in his brow and one in his tongue.

He’s chatting with his buddies, so I open the door all the way and stick my head out.

“Sage,” I hiss, waving him over.

When he glances at me, his brows knit as he strides over. He has a joint in his hand and reeks of pot, but Sage is known as the school pothead, so it’s no surprise. He can play the drums like a boss, though, so he’s cool in my book.

“What’s up?” His blue-eyed gaze scans me. “Holy shit. Are you okay, Lyric?”

“I’m fine. But can you go find Ayden? I think he might be in some trouble.”

“Yeah, I saw him storming down the hall, looking like he was about to murder someone.”

I bite down on my lip, instantly regretting it when pain sears across my face. “I’m kind of worried that he might try exactly that.”

He positions the joint between his lips. “I’m on it.”

I shut the door as he strides toward the stairs. Then, I sink to the floor and very impatiently wait for Sage to either come back, or hopefully Ayden to return. Seconds tick by. Minutes. Right in the midst of deciding to go out myself, the door finally swings open.

“Oh, thank God.” I sigh in relief as Ayden trudges into the bathroom. My gaze immediately drops to his hand cradled at his side, and I jump to my feet. “Why is there blood all over your knuckles?” I grab his hand and jerk it toward me. When his face contorts in pain, I loosen my hold.

“I haven’t hit someone since I was fourteen,” he mutters, stretching out the fingers of his uninjured hand. “I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to use my knuckles.”

I gently wipe some of the blood off his skin, surprised he doesn’t stop me when my fingertips graze his scars. “But whose blood is this? Because I don’t see any fresh cuts.”

His gaze bores into me. “Whose do you think it is, Lyric?”

My heart beats wildly inside my chest. “You didn’t have to hit him. I kicked him plenty of times.”

“Yeah, I did. He hurt you.” An uneven breath slips from his lips. “I should have done worse to him.”

I tell myself to breathe, but my lungs can’t seem to figure out how to get the oxygen they need. “But it was kind of my fault. I mean, I had a bad feeling the moment I got into the car with him, but like you said, I don’t always think with my head, and I trust people too much.”