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hands, the movement not missed by the other shitheads. One, with tattoos covering his arms, steps closer. I can tell he’s itching to take a slice out of me.
    “Leave him alone,” I snap at Carlos. “He’s just a kid.” I make a move toward him, my blood boiling fierce.
    Chase grabs my arm. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
    Carlos laughs. “Listen to pretty boy. You don’t wanna mess with us. Not if you value your life.”
    And with that he walks away, his goons close behind.
    “Fuck.” I start pacing. “What the fuck am I going to do? It’ll destroy his family if Alejandro gets sucked into that life.”
    Chase shakes his head. “You can’t help everyone, Marcus.”
    I stop abruptly. “Everyone? I haven’t been able to save anyone who matters to me. Not one.”

Chapter Seven
    Amber
    “Would you fucking wake up!”
    Something soft covers my mouth and nose. Oh God, I can’t breathe. Paul’s finally going to do it. He’s going to kill me.
    Screaming, I flail my hands in the air. All I find is emptiness. Whatever is covering my face is yanked away, revealing the overhead bedroom light, and a scowling Brittany with a pillow in her hand. Oh.
    My arms dart under the covers. “Sorry,” I whisper before checking my alarm clock. It’s only 2:00 a.m., which means if I go back to sleep, I can look forward to an encore of nightmares.
    Brittany looks away, and gives me the precious seconds I need to grab Trent’s old hoodie off the bed and snuggle into it. The dark gray fleece is soft against the secrets I hide beneath it. When she turns back to me, her face gives no indication that she saw either the tattoo or the scars. She does, though, go back to glaring at me as if that’s enough to make me go away.
    Outside, the rain pounds on the windows.
    “ My tire’s flat ,” I say on the phone. A flash of light fills the night sky followed by the loud rumble of thunder.
    “ Don’t worry. I’m on my way. ”
    I blink and I’m back in the room. I grab my sweatpants and wiggle into them while still under my covers.
    “I’m not a lesbian, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Brittany snaps.
    Huh? “Yeah. Okay.” Not that this changes anything. If she wants to freak because she thinks I believe she’s something she’s not, that’s fine. Anything’s better than the truth.
    I climb out of bed and pick up my biology text. “I’m going to the common room.”
    She mutters something about maybe I can move there permanently. I don’t stick around long enough to ask.
    I limp down the hallway, the overhead light guiding the way. No one’s in the common room. Part of me is relieved I don’t have to socialize with anyone.
    The other part wishes there was someone here to talk to. I miss being that girl. The girl who had lots of friends. The girl who didn’t have secrets. The girl everyone cheered for when she was on the basketball court. The girl who never gave the wrong guy the wrong idea and now has to pay a horrendous price for it.
    I make myself comfy on the tacky orange couch, and pull the old afghan on it around my shoulders. Anything to keep the storm from getting inside me. To keep it from making me feel worse than I already do.
    The wind whistles outside the window. I pull my feet onto the couch and wrap my arms tightly around my knees.
    “ Do you need help? ”
    My body shakes. I don’t want to remember. Please don’t let me remember. I can’t be normal if I do, and I so want to be normal again.
    I open the textbook and read ahead. Why didn’t I grab my iPod before I left my room? Loud rock music usually helps. As long as I can’t hear the storm, I’m fine.
    I turn on the TV and find a cooking show. That’s always a safe bet. I return to my textbook.
    Several hours later, I’m still awake, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last. My eyelids feel like stones have been attached to them and gravity is weighing them down. I yawn, stretch out on the couch, and pray the nightmares stay away this