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I opened my mouth to flirt back, but my words got stuck in my throat and my entire frame stiffened.

Goddammit to hell!

“Expect a late-night visitor in your bed,” Liz purred, flopping down on the window seat.

Jaw clenched, I forced myself to nod.

Because here wasnotthe place for what I had to say to her.

DOUBLING DOWN AND DIGGING IN HEELS

Lizzie

OCTOBER 17, 2003

“WE NEED TO TALK” WERE THE FIRST WORDSHUGH SAID WHEN HE FOLLOWED ME INTOhis downstairs bathroom as soon as we got off the bus.

“Uh, I’m literally peeing,” I reminded him from my perch on the toilet seat. “Can it wait?”

“No, it can’t,” he snapped, giving me his back. “So, hurry up.”

Jesus.

He sounded furious.

Hurrying up my business, I quickly readjusted my clothes and flushed the toilet before moving to wash my hands in the sink.

“Okay, I’m finished,” I announced. “What do we need to talk about?”

“Not here,” he replied, turning around to look at me. “My room.” And then, before I had a chance to respond, he grabbed my hand and practically dragged me upstairs with him.

“Okay, now can you tell me what’s wrong?” I demanded when he slammed his bedroom door shut behind us. “Hugh?”

“I knew it,” he spat, pacing his bedroom floor like a madman. “I fucking knew it, Liz.”

“Would you care to inform me what you know?” I snapped back, hands planted on my hips. “And why you’re so pissed with me?”

“You’re cutting again,” he bit out. “When you fuckingpromisedme, you had stopped.”

“Ihavestopped,” I shouted back. “The scars on my wrists are old, Hugh.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” My boyfriend swung around to glare at me. “Do you think I can’t tell when you’re hiding something from me?”

“I’m not!” I hissed, feeling my temper rise right along with his. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Come here,” he said then, moving for his bed and taking a seat on the edge. “Come here, Liz.” He patted the mattress beside him, still looking furious. “I want to show you something.”

Begrudgingly, I stomped over to where he was sitting and plopped down beside him. “What?”

He grabbed the hem of my school skirt and asked, “May I?”

“Yeah, fine,” I tossed back angrily. “Do whatever.”

Inhaling a deep breath, he peeled the fabric of my skirt up to reveal the apex of my thighs. To reveal the recently healed lesions on my skin. The ones I inflicted on myself in the bath last night.

Aw, crap.

Hugh expelled a frustrated breath and readjusted my skirt back into place. “I noticed when you got on the bus.” He turned to glare at me. “Nowtell me you aren’t cutting again.”