Page 2

ONE

RAZORBLADES

SCARS—PAPA ROACH

A YEAR LATER

CALISTA (14)

T he cold metal clasp digs into my ankle with each slightest movement; it’s weight, heavier than the burden that’s been weighing me down. The chain secured to me prevents me from running off because my mother wants me this way—trapped.

I can feel the cold air flitting in through the dry-rotted wood around the window, letting me know that summer has come and gone and fall is already here. I can’t tell how long I’ve been chained to my bed this time, but I know it’s been more than a few days—a month or two, maybe.

I tried running away more than a few times, right after my thirteenth birthday, when my mother sold my virginity to a man three times my age.

She said I was special, but I didn’t feel like it.

The bruises from her soft, manicured hands still linger on my delicate, pale skin, serving as constant reminders of the pain she has inflicted on me.

But today, as the sun sets and the room grows dim, I feel a sliver of hope within, breaking through the brick wall I’ve carefully built over time.

I’ve been working on a plan to break free from this prison she has created for me. I’ve managed to loosen the clasp on the chain just enough to slip my bony ankle out; it’s not hard when I’ve been getting thinner and thinner—lack of food will do that.

But I need to wait for the right time, and with it being my fourteenth birthday today, I have no idea what she has planned— if anything.

To pass the time, I reach under the mattress and feel around for the razorblade I keep hidden, cutting the tip of my finger as it slides across it. The pain doesn’t bother me. I don’t even wince. I carefully pull it out, grasped between my fingers, a relieved smile spreading across my dry, cracked lips.

Lifting my torn, dirty nightgown, I spread my legs so my inner thighs are on display; the scabbed cuts somehow soothe my racing anxiety and bring a satisfied smile to my sunken-in face.

“Do it," the girl sitting beside me urges, knowing just what I need to make the pain go away.

“I am,” I answer back, feeling comfort from the other lonely girl in the room, always making sure I’m okay.

I bring the blade to the tender flesh just below the apex of my thighs, pressing the sharpened edge against an unscathed spot. Swiping the razor from top to bottom, blood seeps from the slice as the blade breaks my skin, trickling down to the already stained mattress. My legs stop shaking, and I cut again, right next to the first one, mesmerized by the crimson river flowing down the inside of my thigh.

“Don’t cut too much,” she says, warning me.

“Just one more,” I retort, sounding like an addict as I begin making a third slice, slightly deeper than the first two.

And then I tuck the razorblade back underneath the mattress, my gaze stuck on the sight of the blood painting my bruised, pale skin. Every drop of blood that drips down my leg gives me a sense of relief—a temporary escape from the pain that constantly surrounds me.

I glance at the crack in the window to see the first stars appearing in the darkening sky, a sign that it’s almost time for my plan to come to life. And even though I’m fucking nervous, I’m more than ready to finally see it through.

I carefully wrap the cuts with torn pieces of fabric, knowing that I need to keep them clean and hidden in order to avoid any suspicion.

As the room becomes engulfed in darkness, I listen for any sign of movement from my mother’s room. I can hear heavy footsteps approaching, and I quickly pretend to be asleep in case someone comes barging in. I keep my breathing slow and steady, trying to contain my excitement as I wait for her to finally fall asleep.

“It’s time, Cali. Let’s get out of here!” Addy exclaims, showing the same excitement I feel coursing through me.

Once the house is quiet, I slowly start to ease the chain off my ankle, feeling a surge of adrenaline as it comes loose, and I finally break free. I have to move quickly and quietly, careful not to make a sound as I gather the few belongings I have stashed away.

I take one last look at the dark, oppressive room before I slip out the crack in the window and into the night, ready to leave this nightmare behind me.

Once my feet hit the frozen ground, I pull my beanie over my head to block my ears from the frigid wind. I zip my thin windbreaker up to my chin and walk quickly away from the prison I’ve called my home since I was a little girl.

Just by looking at the elegant mansion with bright lights putting a soft glow around the property, you’d never guess the horror that goes on inside. I shiver, not from the cold but from the daunting memories that haunt my mind on a daily basis.

“Where are we going?” Addy asks, following me as I walk along the desolate sidewalk, keeping my head down to avoid the whipping wind drying out my already chapped lips.

“I don’t know,” I admit, knowing I have no friends I can rely on anymore.

After my thirteenth birthday, I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, including Dominic, Ash, or Killian. My parents pulled me out of school and homeschooled me—at least, that’s what they told everyone they were doing. I didn’t get an education; instead, I taught myself. I was secluded from society and everyone I knew and loved, and I was sure that after all this time they all forgot about me and moved on with their lives. They were all surely going places, while I was not. My fate had been sealed for me, and I never even got a say in the matter.

For now, all I know is that I need to get as far away from that house as possible. I need to find someone who will help me—a place where I can finally be free from the chains that have held me down— literally .

I keep walking, my eyes scanning the empty streets in search of some sort of sign or direction. I need to find a safe place to rest, to gather my thoughts, and to think about the new life I’m about to begin.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I’m finally free and that I have the power to turn things around.

Addy walks close beside me and gives me a comforting smile; it’s like her way of assuring me that everything is going to be okay. I hold onto that image, hoping that somewhere out there I can find the people who will help me heal from the horrors of my past.

The city of Boston at night is beautiful, and I find myself fascinated by the flickering, colorful lights that guide my path out of the darkness. I can feel Addy inch closer, taking every step into the scary unknown right along with me.

My hands shake, and my insides tingle from the cold or the lack of medication since I refused to bring it with me. But I ignore it, skipping down the sidewalk while laughing at absolutely nothing, just enjoying how it feels to be free.

Suddenly, a firm hand clasps around my wrist, yanking me backwards. I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut in fear of who I might come face-to-face with.

“Open your eyes, Cali,” a familiar male voice whispers into my ear as he tugs me into a dimly lit alley, pushing my back against the cold, brick wall.

“Go ahead, Cali,” Addy assures me. “It’s only Gunnar,” she whispers, her voice now planted inside my head instead of being right next to me.

I open my eyes and see a smiling Gunnar in front of me, one of the guys who works at my parents’ estate as a security guard. Slowly, I relax my tense body and allow my breathing to return to normal, still feeling a rush of anxiety heavily coursing through my veins.

“Gunnar, what are you doing here?” I ask, confused, keeping my guard up as I closely study the features adorning his handsome face.

“I’ve been looking for you. I knew you’d try to escape,” Gunnar replies sympathetically. “I’m here to help you.”

I listen to his words, letting them sink in as I struggle to wrap my mind around the fact that someone wants to help me—to actually help me. I don’t dare to hope for such a thing, especially not after everything I’ve been through. But this is my chance—my shot at freedom—so I reach out and gratefully take it.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “I need all the help I can get.”

He nods and gently puts his arm around me, leading me out of the alley and towards the blacked-out car parked by the curb, the promise of a new life waiting for me just within my reach.

“Go ahead, slide in.” He smiles, his brown eyes glinting under the bright lights.

Breathing hard and heavy, I anxiously slide in the backseat, noticing the partition up so I can’t see who’s driving. He gets in and sits beside me, keeping a firm grip on my thigh and digging his fingers into my already bruised skin.

Addy is quiet, so I take it as a good sign, even as the car pulls away from the curb and drives away, taking me further into the unknown. Gunnar reaches over and brushes my dirty hair out of my face, swiping his thumb across my bottom lip. His smile is unnerving, but I stay quiet, not knowing what his motives are.

“Where are you bringing me?” I finally ask, growing more anxious the longer we drive.

“Back to my place,” he says flatly. “You can stay with me until we figure out what we’re going to do with you.” He winks, leaning in so his mouth is inches away from mine.

The feeling that creeps into my bones begins to set off the manic thoughts flooding my mind, and I grow afraid of an oncoming mental break. But then he kisses me, catching me off guard, his body pinning mine to the warm leather seat.

As his tongue slips between my lips, I bite it, not knowing how to react. Of course, my little stunt angers him, and he pulls back with fire flickering in his eyes, slapping me sharply across the face. My cheek stings, so I hold it, forcing my tears not to fall.

“What the fuck was that for?” he hisses, showing his teeth with a nasty snarl curling on his lips.

“What are you doing, Gunnar?” I yell, feeling betrayed yet again.

“It’s the least you can fucking do for me helping you,” he says, like I owe him or some shit.

“I don’t need your help, and I sure as fuck don’t want it if that’s what you’re expecting in return.” I shake my head, scooting to the other side of the car, feeling around in the dark for the door handle. But he grabs my hand and yanks it away, keeping it secure in his grasp.

“I’ve seen what you let those men do to you, Cali. What’s the difference here?” He looks at me with a deadly serious look in his eyes as I pick nervously at my cuticles.

“That’s not fair, Gunnar,” I whisper, feeling like my throat is closing up. “I never wanted any of that. You know I don’t want it.”

“Nothing in this world is fucking free, Cali. I help you, you help me; got it?” He leans in for another kiss, but I move my head to the side to avoid it, only angering him further.

“Let me out!” I scream, but all he does is laugh evilly, sounding much like my mother.

“Addy, what do I do?” I ask, begging the girl who’s helped me so many times before. But right now, when I need her the most, she’s fucking silent, of course.

“Who the fuck are you talking to, Little Psycho?” Gunnar laughs, climbing on top of me so I have nowhere to move if I try to again.

“Get off of me!” I try to fight, but he overpowers me, wrapping his hand around my throat so tightly that dots dance in my vision, my breathing becoming labored.

“Either you stop fighting and just do what I want, or I’ll take you back to your mother. Which is it?” He threatens, giving me a choice, even though he knows how much I don’t want to go back home.

I feel stuck. I feel fucking stupid for letting my guard down even the slightest. And as I contemplate my options in my head, I know what needs to be done. “Take me home, Gunnar,” I choke out through heavy sobs, knowing what awaits me back there.

“Fucking stupid little girl,” he laughs, climbing off of me as the car turns around, heading back toward the prison I just finally escaped from. “Definitely a little psycho.”

My vision blurs as the car moves through the city streets, my mind racing with the betrayal I feel so deeply. I know that I, once again, ended up in a trap. And I fucking hate myself for falling right into it.

As the car approaches the gates of hell, my heart sinks into my stomach. I refuse to glance at Gunnar; my eyes are focused on the dark night beyond the car window. I may have lost the fight tonight, but I refuse to give up on my freedom. I take a deep breath and mentally try to prepare myself for whatever may be waiting for me inside.

As Gunnar grabs my arms and drags me out of the car, I realize that my fight has only just begun. I’m going to find a way to break free again, no matter what the obstacles may be. I remain determined as he drags me inside the house, the door slamming behind us with a thud.

“Welcome home, Calista,” my mother sneers, hands on her hips as she leans against the staircase, evil glowing in her eyes with a frightening smirk to match the rest of her icy demeanor.

Fuck, was this a mistake coming back here? Should I have just dealt with Gunnar?

“You’re just in time to get ready for your birthday party,” she adds, shoving me back into my bedroom after dragging me up the stairs.

Throwing a dress at me, she pulls a padlock and key out of her pocket and latches it to the window, looking at me as she locks it, taking away my only way out. She leaves my room without another word, and Addy finally decides to make an appearance.

“Add Gunnar to your list, Calista,” she demands, her voice calm and calculated, but the look on her face is one of icy rage and revenge.

I pull out my journal and flip to the back cover. Taking a red pen, I scribble “Gunnar” underneath the third name on my list. Reading the names, a smile creeps onto my face as nothing but red flashes in my mind.

Mother

Father

Holden Graham—Senator

Gunnar

I know over time the list will grow, and for some reason, as I think about getting my revenge on those who took advantage of me, my hands tingle in anticipation; it’s all I can think about.

I close the book and slide it into the hole in the wall behind my bed, knowing it’s safe there.

Seeing my meds laid out on the nightstand, I scoop them up and pop them into my mouth, washing them down with the spit on my tongue.

Picking up the bright red dress, I study it before putting it on, trying to mentally prepare myself for tonight. Even though nothing can prepare me for the torture and doom I’m bound to be subjected to, I still try.

“Take a few more Lithium, Calista,” Addy says, pointing to the bottle on the shelf above my window. “Add in some Zoloft, Ativan, and Dilaudid. Make yourself as numb as you possibly can.”

I nod, walking like a zombie toward the other side of my room.

As I willingly overmedicate myself to make sure I feel nothing later on, I feel a grin creep back across my lips.

At least Addy has my back.