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Pushing my phone back under the bedspread, I force myself out of bed. Now that my body is in movement and upright, everything chooses to flair to life. Limping and hunched over I walk to the bathroom, take off my wig and clothes, and take a shower.

I lose consciousness for a moment and wake up on the ground with the water still running over my legs. Groggy, I blink up at it as if cursing it for existing. Fuck, I’m out of it.

I know this is a weird kind of disassociation due to trauma. And yet, I can’t find the will to try to pull out of it.

My eyes glance down at my legs, and I wince. My skin is a mess of raised bumps that are threatening to turn into lots of colored bruises. While my mother’s blows were artless and wild, she still managed to hit me hard.

Taking a deep breath or two, I force myself to get up. The pain threatens my vision, and I lean against the wall for a second.

Since a couple of spots are bleeding, I grab my body wash and run my hands over my body to clean up. Every movement is agony, and I’m very unsteady by the time I turn off the water.

Opening the door, I dry my body as I stumble out of the shower stall, suddenly exhausted.

Wrapping the towel over my body, I grab my wig and walk into the closet. I’m pulling out pajamas when an insistent knocking sound comes from my window.

“What is that?” I whisper, dropping the pajamas and wig to the ground as I turn.

There’s a body on the balcony, and while the light on my bedside table isn’t bright, I feel intense shame as I take a step forward. My fingers touch my bald head and I blink away tears as my steps pull me to the window.

“Carter,” I whisper, seeing his wide eyes on the other side of the window. Glancing over my shoulder, I expect to see my mother, but I can’t relax because he’s seeing beyond the veil of my facade.

Everything about me is fake.

Swallowing hard, I unlock the window and push it outward.

“You can’t be here,” I rasp. “How did you even…”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grunts. “Cassidy is freaking the fuck out. You’ve been gone from your phone for a goddamned hour.”

“I passed out in the shower,” I say, my voice sounding as if it's coming from a long way away. That’s probably why the water also felt really cold.

“Hey,” Carter snaps his fingers at me but my eyes are already starting to roll back. “Stay with me. Is she still home?”

It takes a lot of effort, but I manage to claw my way back and I realize he’s talking about my mother.

“She is,” I wheeze. “You have to go. It’ll be worse if you don’t.”

“Why are you like this?” he asks, his hands wrapping around my upper arms.

Unfortunately, the belt caught me across my bicep at some point, when I stopped paying attention to the blows. My body flinches as I bite back a whimper of pain. His hands lift as if they’re on fire, his face worried and pinched.

“Tell me. Right now. Or I’m carrying you out of here. Your mother just texted us all that you’re in heat, but that’s a lie, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my body swaying. “She beat me with a belt… doesn’t want you to see me.”

“What does she want?” he asks, looking as if he doesn’t know where to touch me.

My hand rubs my head self-consciously, and he shakes his head.

“You’re gorgeous and I don’t care,” he grunts. “Focus on the present, Nina.”

His eyes dart to the door, realizing there isn’t a door.

“No door. God she’s fucking ruthless.”

“No doors anywhere,” I rasp. “I can’t…focus.”

“I’m coming in,” he grunts, ignoring me as I shake my head. He takes a step inside and closes the window behind him. “One thing at a time. Is there anywhere that doesn’t hurt?”