Read Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3) for Free Online

wanted something to block it all out. I wanted to have hope that maybe it would all end.
    That night I used, I let go of what I’d hoped to become. That first hit filled my lungs, and within moments everything faded. All the colors smeared together, and for a second, nothing mattered. That was the most freeing moment of my life. Nothing mattered, and when nothing matters, nothing can hurt you.
    Then nausea swept over me.
    Luke helped me to the bathroom and there I sat, leaning against a wall waiting to vomit, a small hope that maybe I’d die whispering somewhere in the back of my conscious.
    After my body had been drenched in sweat and that blissful feeling of the high returned, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and somehow through the euphoria I managed to feel disappointment. No matter how low I was, I couldn’t let myself give in to death like this. That was the first and last time I ever did heroin.
    Later that same night, I ended up in bed with Luke. He wrapped me up in his huge arms, held me while I cried, and promised me it would all be okay. I believed he could take the pain away. I needed a distraction, and Luke acted like he needed me, like I was worth something. And it felt good to be needed, to have someone that I felt could protect me, would fight for me…and then six months in, he beat the shit out of me. Sometimes it just doesn’t seem worth it to fight. At that point in my life, being beaten seemed better than being alone. Unfortunately, life hadn’t left me hardened enough yet.
    Jerking the gear into drive, Luke looked over at me and snarled. “I saw you looking at that guy.”
    “What guy? I wasn’t looking at anybody.”
    His eyes set on me in a cold, rage-filled glare. “You’re a whore. You look at anything with a dick.”
    My initial reaction months ago would have been to be a smartass, to yell at him for talking to me like that, but fear crippled me and I sat in silence, my vision blurring behind tears.
    “Oh,” he said, taking his eyes off the road to look at me. “You think crying will get you out of this?”
    I stared at him. I’d known Luke for years, and I never would have believed that this was who he really was.
    People keep secrets so they can blend in with the expected and accepted image.
    People are rarely what they appear to be.
    Sean never would have been friends with somebody like this. Luke was no different than Bill, or any of the other shitheads my father had let come and go freely from our house.
    One side of Luke’s mouth curled up, and he said, “Maybe if I slap the shit out of you, maybe that’ll teach you to keep your fucking pussy to me.” He raised his hand back and I flinched, closing my eyes. My entire body tensed up for the blow I expected to land over my face at any moment. And then he laughed. “Baby, I’m not gonna hit you.”
    Opening my eyes, I leaned back into the cloth seat and felt another piece of me die on the inside. I watched as the run-down houses blurred past the window, and out of the front windshield I could barely make out the illuminated letters of the Hollywood sign that peeked over the hills.
    I always thought that was so fucking cruel. That sign, as far as I was concerned, was a torture device. It gave me glimpses of something I’d never have—wealth, safety, dreams—and it constantly loomed over the dark shadows of my shitty life.
    I was stuck. People from this underprivileged part of LA were lost. We all came from shit-poor families, mostly drug dealers and prostitutes. I was one of the few people who hadn’t given into the poverty I’d come from. I had been trying. I’d wanted more than this. I’d even gotten a scholarship to UCLA. Sean was so proud that I was going to do something with my life. He thought I would get out of that town, find a dream; but when I found him dead, well, that took all ambition away, and I lost my scholarship.
    Dream gone, smothered by the filthy hands of the mess I’d come from. It was