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“Do you ever get tired of faking it all the time?” she whimpers.

Resting my cheek on top of her head, I nod. “Yeah.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to be this way.”

“Can I ask you something?”

She lifts her head, and I let my arms fall away from her.

“What?”

“The first day I was in group, when Dr. Benson mentioned you being a fighter before...what did he mean by that?”

She lets go of a deep sigh and hangs her head.

“This isn’t your first time here, is it?”

“No.” Her voice is soft and another tear falls. She runs the cuff of her sweatshirt across her cheeks to dry her face as she sniffs and struggles to compose herself. It takes a moment before she finally looks at me. “When you said that we had each other’s biggest secret, you were wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened last week wasn’t the worst.”

I’m scared to ask because her digging a screw into her arm is pretty damn disturbing. I can’t imagine what it is that she hasn’t told me.

She turns and pulls the sleeve of her shirt up to just above the bandage. My eyes lock on her wrist, and when she peels back the gauze, my heart screeches to a halt as shock loops around it. Beneath the superficial cut of the screw is a brutal scar that runs double the length.

I stare at it in horror, and when my eyes reach hers, I ask, “You’ve done that before?”

She covers her wrist back up and nods. “I was never pregnant,” she whispers. “I was here.”

With a deep sigh, I tuck my knees to my chest and drop my head into my hands. The gravity of what this girl is dealing with is beyond anything I can wholly comprehend. Whatever it was she drove into her skin, she did it with only one intention because that scar is the marker of a merciless attempt at death, and that shit scares me.

“I’m sorry,” she says thickly. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, don’t do that.” I turn to face her straight on, taking her hand in mine and wrapping my other hand around the bandage hidden under her sleeve.

“I’ve never shown anyone.”

“I’m glad you showed me.” I blink slowly, hating myself for helping spread that stupid rumor about her. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“For what?”

“I knew you weren’t pregnant. I should’ve never said that dumb shit.”

“It’s better than the truth.”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “I don’t want this for you. I want to help.”

Her shoulders sag. “You can’t. I’m unfixable.”

“That’s bullshit.” The thought of her trying a third time and succeeding terrifies me. Just knowing that I’ll never understand the depth of her misery twists my gut into painful knots. “I need you to try.”

“Why?”

“Because ...” I let my words fall when they catch me by surprise. It makes me uneasy to say them, especially to her. I’ve said them to Kassi, but they were a lie. I gave them to her in vain because I’m weak. But Harlow deserves the truth, so I swallow my hesitation and tell her, “Because I don’t want to lose you.” Her fingers wrap around my hand that’s still holding hers. “And because I don’t wantyouto lose you.”

“It doesn’t feel good to be me.”