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’em dirty.” I licked my lips. “If he can keep up. Text me later.”
    I left before they could respond. I didn’t need to hear them talk up or down about Matt Sr. It kind of bothered me that they thought hooking me up with a loser was okay, but I guess it was my fault. I could have made myself into anything else other than a self-proclaimed whore who would get down and nasty with anyone. I could have been who I really was, a quiet, weak, and shy bookworm virgin. But that girl was broken. The shit that girl was hiding, no one would put up with or love her like she so urgently wanted to be loved. So she stayed hidden behind this girl with the tough exterior who lets nothing bother her and loses herself in sex. I’d be that girl until it didn’t hurt anymore to be myself.

Chapter 6
    Harley
    Since my shift started so early, I got off while it was still daylight outside. The walk home was filled with dread. She was probably still in a bad mood from yesterday, and I didn’t want to make her more upset by being late. As I rounded the corner, my heart was seized by the fear so tightly wrapped around it. I saw movement in the window, which meant she was waiting for me to get home. Shit. Taking a deep, calming breath that didn’t really calm me, I walked in. She was sitting on the couch watching some soap opera and didn’t even look up. But I knew from experience it wasn’t her who needed to say something first.
    “Hi, Mom,” I said meekly.
    “Is that all you have to say to me?” She turned to me with an expectant look.
    I knew what she wanted, and if I didn’t give it to her, then last night would seem like a cakewalk.
    “I’m sorry about upsetting you last night,” I said. “It won’t happen again.” I looked down at my feet. I knew deep down that apologizing for something I was the victim in was bullshit, but I couldn’t not apologize. I couldn’t.
    “You damn right you’re sorry, and you will probably do it again. You’re a fuckup,” she spit out. “How do you expect someone to want you if you can’t even get dinner to the table without fucking it up?”
    I focused on the way her face morphed into this monster who didn’t love me and got her rocks off by making me cry. But she was all I had, my monster who, when I was seven, thought it was funny to hold my hand over a hot burner and dared me to let my arm get tired.
    I didn’t say anything. It was better that way. When she turned back to the TV, I knew that was my cue to leave, so I did. Escaping to my room, I pulled out my phone and saw a text from Ember telling me where they were going later and that Matt Sr. was supposed to stop by because it was “your kind of place,” which meant it was a bar. I hit her with a vague “maybe” and went to shower, letting the hot water hit my back to release some of the tense muscles. They will fade. They will fade , I kept repeating to myself while I gingerly washed my back and body.
    Once back in my room, I put on some yoga pants and a tank top and grabbed my book from this morning. I texted Ember and told her that I was busy with some guy named Mic and would see her later, to which she responded with an “eye roll” and that I should stop by the bar when I was done, because they would be out late. I put on my headphones and shuffled my songs, even though the thought of having my hearing blocked terrified me. Music was my escape just as much as books. I set the volume to low—I needed to hear if she came in—grabbed one of my favorite books, then lost myself in a world I wished I belonged to.
    I got lost in reading about some girl who was getting a foot massage by her suitor after having professed their love to each other in so many words, and I started to daydream about what that would be like. What would it be like to be in love with someone so much, and him with me, that something as simple as a foot massage brought me pleasure? I loved the part in books where the girl realizes that she can’t