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hour of their death, it all becomes clear.
    It's a kind of relief.
     
    *
     
    Kiki's wide eyes greet mine when I wake up.
    “Thank God!” she says in a loud voice, and I cringe a little. She covers her mouth. “Sorry,” she tries to whisper and misses it by a mile.
    “Oh my gawd, girl, you had me peeing my pants!” Her anxious eyes scan my face then move down my body. They sweep back up to my eyes again.
    I smile a little, and my mouth feels like torn sandpaper, complete with cracked lips and breath like ass. “Water,” I croak.
    Kiki slaps her forehead and brings a cup to me smoothly, tipping the bendy straw down to my lips. The water tastes like cold heaven. My eyes meet hers.
    “Okay, tell me what the hell happened,” Kiki says, plopping down in the hospital chair next to my bedside.
    I want to know where that guy is. The one I saw in my drug-induced stupor... where did he go? But I don't ask.
    “I don't really know. I was coming out of the clinic...”
    “Seeing the doctor about your migraines?” she prompts.
    I just nod. Talking about about my death sentence is a little too much.
    Matthews's words come back to me, welling up in the center of my brain: loss of sensation and appetite, issues of vertigo—loss of balance.
    I can't have that. I need to keep dancing so there will be something left for Mom when I'm no longer here.
    Kiki snaps her fingers. “Y'know, they can't release you like this. You're not all here, Faren.”
    Not all here . My memory blinks, and I'm on the lap of one man. Like a camera shutter, it clicks. Then I'm suffering through Thorn and his brand of control. The shutter stalls on my stepdad beating my mom nearly to death.
    All because she defended me.
    And I think I can go and die?
    I close my eyes.
    Kiki pushes my hair back. “What is it, doll? I mean, besides the obvious… You look like someone just stepped on your puppy.”
    I bark out a laugh. You know the type, full of beaten and contained emotions bubbling to the surface. “I don't have a dog.” Perish the thought; I can hardly handle my own life.
    Kiki lifts a shoulder, “Yeah, whatever, but if you did...” She smiles, and I smile back.
    After a few moments, she says, “This is what I know. You came screaming—”
    “Screaming?” My brows pop.
    Kiki rolls her eyes. “Not yelling but bookin'.”
    “Oh.”
    “Anywho, you come screaming out of the doctor's office and run right into the street.”
    I nod. That sounds right. After the wonderful bomb dropped, I just wasn't myself.
    I'm not sure when I will be again.
    “Then!” Kiki throws up a finger. “A super-hot guy plowed into you with his Harley! Love by bike!” she says with a squeal.
    “Kiki...” No matter what I say, it won't work. I'm okay, and she's smitten with the strange circumstances.
    “You're okay, Faren.” She looks at my blanket-covered body and snatches the blanket down to my thigh. “Battle scars. You can cover that with foundation.”
    We look at the bruise made from the bike, and I realize I'm lucky my leg's not broken.
    I watch her dark eyes move to my right thigh and land on my bump and grind bruise. She lays a finger on it.
    Kiki doesn't meet my eyes when she asks, “How's the work?”
    I don't look up. “It's going.”
    “What do you have to do?” Kiki asks.
    I give her an accusatory look.
    She backs away, her hand coming off my leg. I cover my lower body with the sheet again.
    “You were desperate,” she says. “You need the money, and this is the only way, short of dealing drugs, that it's going to happen for you.”
    “I don't want a penthouse.”
    “I know.” Kiki’s eyes bore into the top of my bent head. “Now tell me why the fuck you ran out of the doctor's office.”
    I open my mouth then close it again. I don't know if I'm ready to tell her. I don't even know if I'm ready to accept what Matthews said. I'm going through the stages of grief just fine, thank you very much.
    I think I'm hung up on anger.
    I hear a noise,