Page 2 of Scarred in Silence (The Twisted Trilogy #2)

Astra

I don’t even remember taking the cap off. The cold bite of the metal pierces my pale skin—the feeling of the needle gliding under my skin is smooth. Effortless.

My hands move with the precision of a surgeon, as if someone else is piloting them. Maybe they are. Perhaps I’ve been gone for a long time.

The rush comes in quickly, thickening in my veins as they pulse beneath my flesh. Blurring everything I don’t want to remember. My mind fights the rush as Evelyn and Amara flash into my thoughts. Why did I abandon Evelyn? Why did Dante take Amara from me?

My eyelids are heavy as I let the sweet medicine soothe me. The warmth travels through my core, as numbness overcomes me. I’m drifting. Weightless. Drowning in silence. I’m underwater, but I still hear Lucien yelling at me. Telling me to stop.

He can never change me. I’ll never change for him.

Th e trailer smells of mildew and mold. The sounds of “ Hey You ” by Pink Floyd filter through the hollow walls, leaving me in a trance. My vision tunnels as I stare into the brown, stained carpet. No one can find me here. I’m safe.

Everything fades from color to black and white. Then… everything is black.

I did it. It’s all over now.

* * *

The smell of cigarettes crawls into my nostrils, thick and stale. I try to open my mouth, but my tongue feels heavy and dry, like sandpaper. My eyes break open the crusty film and adjust to the dim light. Where am I?

The floor isn’t the brown-stained carpet I remember nodding off to. It’s a wooden floor with not a single imperfection. My eyes dart left and right, scanning for someone, anyone.

Nobody is here.

I feel as if my limbs are made of steel as I try to bring myself upright. The lamp in the corner of the room casts an eerie glow over the furniture. It’s probably a king-sized bed because of its size. The red silk sheets slide over my feet as I try to stir them to life. What the fuck happened?

I remove the blanket, and I’m immediately hit with the cool air pressing between my thighs.

Of course, someone took advantage of me while I was passed out.

I roll my eyes at myself, knowing this will be my life forever.

My sweat-covered t-shirt clings to my upper body.

I bring myself to shaky legs as my head pulses—a wave of nausea bubbles inside of me.

I stumble to the opening of a bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before my insides turn inside out.

My stomach knots, as if vice grips are twisting it. I dry heave over the porcelain bowl, staring into the water. The water appears to be feet away from me as my vision tunnels. Black spots dance around the edges of my vision. I back away from the bowl and rest my back against a cool tiled wall.

Breathe. Just breathe.

I press my eyes shut as I take deep breaths. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale…

“Was I that bad?” A voice booms from the opening of the bathroom, echoing off the walls.

My eyes spring open as I push my body back further into the wall, hoping it will open up like a portal and swallow me whole. Sweat lines my forehead as I try to focus on the man standing in the doorway. I don’t recognize him.

“W-who are you?” My voice comes out hoarse and ignorant.

Heavy footsteps approach me, filling me with regret.

He squats down before me, bringing himself to eye level.

The combat boots he wears are black and clean.

His black jeans and fitted white t-shirt make his blue eyes appear bright, electric.

His face is covered in stubble, and his dirty blonde hair is slicked backward.

He chuckles.

“All this time I thought he was lying… You really are whore with a drug problem, huh?”

His lips curl into a smile as he skates his eyes over my body. His gaze lingers between my thighs. I clench them together tightly, feeling exposed.

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you didn’t love spreading them for me last night.”

He stands slowly in front of me. His erection bulges in his jeans. I glan ce down, looking away. Why am I alive? I should have been dead last night.

I press my eyes shut, trying to remember something—anything. The last thing I remember is hearing Lucien yell at me. His presence lingers over my shoulder like an omen. A shiver crawls down my spine.

After that, everything went black. Everything ended.

“It’s common not to remember anything after you overdose. Don’t sweat it.”

His words weigh on my conscience. I overdosed. His footsteps grow quiet as he exits the room.

How does he know that? Who the Hell is he?

If I overdosed, then who saved me?

“D-did you save me?” My voice is barely audible over the throbbing migraine.

His footsteps stop. The room is drenched in silence.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t,” he chuckles to himself as he leaves me to drown in my feelings.

“C-can I leave?”

“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” his voice carries from further away.

I take in a shaky breath as the cool tile calms me down. I’m a piece of shit. The only way out is death, and I can’t even do that right.

Quickly, I stand on my legs as they threaten to give out, making my way into the bedroom. I find a pair of black spandex shorts on the floor next to the bed, sliding the thin material up to cover myself from anyone who may still be lurking.

The floor creaks beneath every step that I take. My feet are bare against the calm wood as I take my walk of shame.

Th e house is empty. It’s nothing like the trailer I was in yesterday. This house has proper furniture and is clean, despite the smell of cigarette smoke. I get to the front door and slip out into the dry heat.

I have no idea what time it is or what day it is. Every day I have been here has felt like an eternity.

After Evelyn’s wedding, I immediately left. I needed to be free. My phone was off as soon as I sent her that text, and I haven’t turned it back on since. They all act like they care about me, but they don’t. Everyone gives up on me, eventually.

I walk down the dirt road towards the small town. I ended up going as far as I could, which is how I ended up here in New Mexico. There aren’t a lot of rules, but there are tons of drugs. That’s what I need right now.

I need to forget.

Amara’s death hasn’t settled for me. She was the only one who eventually understood me. Even though we were different, she would stand up for me when no one else would. Since she died, all my father did was tell Lucien about my drug addiction.

Evelyn is so wrapped up in her new life with Dante that she will never understand. She has someone who wants her for who she is. I don’t have anyone like that. Everyone wants to change me.

My mother hasn’t talked to me since I turned eighteen. My father was the one who would help pay for the things I needed and let me stay in the house. The only reason he does that is to maintain his public image. The public image that I’m on a mission to fucking destroy.

I arrive at the club where I’ve been working. “ Santa Muerta ” flashes on the trashy neon light sign outside. The only strip club i n this miserable town, but I knew what I had to do—I know what I have to do.

When I got here, I knew I had to have a cash-only job. I knew my father would come looking for me, as he always does. Fucking bastard. I chose the strip club because it was the one place I could find somewhere to sleep and something to numb my feelings.

Every day I work, I pick a customer to go home with—usually one who pays me well. In addition, I sleep with them, in exchange for a place to crash and, of course, my sweet medicine—the perfect trifecta.

Well… It was the perfect trifecta up until last night. I went home with one regular who gets a clean supply. I knew it was my way out if I took enough, but it didn’t work. Someone had to play superhero.

I don’t want to kill myself with a gun, a knife, or anything physical. I want to die in peace. I want to die in the same way I’ve been dying my whole life—in silence.

I throw open the doors to the club and walk towards the dancers’ changing room. The smell of sweat and cigars stains the lifeless room. Hazy clouds circle around, mocking me. The club is pretty empty aside from a couple of guys lingering at the bar.

The girls here have been pretty welcoming of me. I think they all have their own fucked up story, but none of us talk about it.

I sit down on the bench and stare at the clock that ticks loudly on the wall, as if it’s a bomb. 4:45 p.m. Fuck.

I have a solid five hours before the club actually gets some business.

I go to my locker, turning the dial until it opens.

The locker contains some clothes, my burner phone, and all of my money.

I left my real phone back at my parents’ house.

Didn’t want them to track my whereabouts.

I never bring my belongings with me when I leave with the customers, either. It’s too risky.

Once I count my money, I lie down on the bench, ready to pass the fuck out. I need to shake off this grogginess. I close my eyes and drift off, letting the darkness take me to a simpler place.

* * *

“Wake up, Anna!”

I hear Eve yelling at me as she slams her bag down on the bench. Shit. I peer up at her from my restless sleep. I sometimes forget that I go by a new name here. It’s been challenging to adjust to.

“Sorry… I just… didn’t sleep well,” my words come out with a long yawn.

“No, shit. You look like death.”

She looks down at me with her weight on one foot, arms crossed in front of her chest. She wears hot pink lingerie and has her hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

“It’s not that bad,” I roll my eyes at her as I stand up, walking up to the mirror.

I do look terrible. She wasn’t lying.

“Here,” she tosses a make-up bag in my direction.

I catch it, but immediately hold it back out to her.

“I know, I know. You don’t like to wear make-up,” she says in a mocking voice.

She places her hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me, but my skin crawls at the contact. I stopped doing everything I once loved when I came here, and I’m not about to open old wounds to make her happy.

“Seriously, just put the make-up on. You will drive away customers if you look like that.”

My free hand clenches into a fist at her words. Fuck her. I take the bag and throw it across the room. It crashes into the mirror, sending shards of glass crashing down on the nasty tile.

She flinches, immediately removing her hand from my shoulder.

“Fuck you,” my words spoken through gritted teeth.

She stares at me in disbelief as I shove past her, cleaning out my locker.

“W-what are you doing?” She asks quietly.

“Packing my shit.”

The room is silent as I shove my belongings into my duffle bag. I have no idea where the fuck I am going, but it’s sure as Hell better than here.

I slam the locker door shut, as the sound echoes around us. My heart races in my chest, as adrenaline courses through my empty veins. My lifeless veins.

My footsteps are heavy, pounding into the floor as I storm out of the club. Not bothering to look back. I’ve always wanted to run, but I was too scared before. Now, nothing can stop me.

I head towards the bus stop, my bag thumping against my hip with each step. My lungs burn from the emotion building up inside of me. I need to go somewhere that I can be free. I only have a limited number of options from New Mexico, but I have the perfect place in mind.

I sit down at the bus stop, resting on the wooden bench. The streets are quiet, with the soft glow of streetlights illuminating the desert sky. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. I envision where I want to go.

I feel the heat radiating on my skin, sending a tingle over the delicate flesh.

The air is humid, and gusts of wind flow through my hair, whipping it around as if I were driving in Evelyn’s convertible.

The salty aroma warms my core. Sand curls under my toes as I step into the water.

The water is powerful. The water flows as it wants to. What would it be like to be water?

A soft smile makes its way across my lips. I know where I’m going. And nobody can stop me now.