Prologue

PROLOGUE

Mandy

17 Years Old . . .

I’m flying across the living room, slamming into the thin drywall with a thud.

The cheap plaster cracks behind my head as I slump to the ground, dazed.

Tony snarls above me, eyes bloodshot and pupils dilated, “Where’s my fuckin’ twenty dollars, you little bitch?”

The stench of stale cigarettes and booze wafts off him.

I yell back, struggling to get to my feet, “I don’t have your goddamn money! I never took it!”

He grabs me by the shoulders, his dirty fingers digging into my skin. “Don’t you lie to me, Amanda. I know you stole it! Now give it back before I beat it out of you!”

“I didn’t take shit from you, asshole!” I shove him off me with all my strength.

I may be a seventeen-year-old girl but I’m scrappy as hell.

Growing up in this shithole made me tough.

He staggers back, then lunges at me again, face twisted in rage.

I dodge to the side, but he clips my jaw with a wild punch.

Pain explodes through my face as I taste blood.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Away from Tony and his bullshit, away from this dead-end life in Nowhereville, California.

I refuse to end up like my mom—strung out, broke, letting dirtbags use me for a fix.

I’m getting out, one way or another.

With shaking hands, I scramble backward on the beer can-littered carpet, trying to put some distance between us.

Tony towers over me, meaty fists clenched.

“You think I’m an idiot,” he spits out. “But I know you took my money. Hand it over!”

“I didn’t take shit from you. I never have!” I snarl back, voice ragged. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “I’m done being your fucking punching bag.”

His bloodshot eyes narrow into slits. “Like hell you are.”

Tony lunges for me again.

His fingers close around my throat as he slams me to the floor.

I claw at his hands, gasping for air, vision blurring.

Fuck, I can’t breathe.

Oh God, I’m going to die here.

Murdered by my tweaker stepdad in this dingy trailer.

Spots dance before my eyes.

Summoning the last of my strength, I rake my nails across his face, drawing blood.

Tony recoils with a pained yell, and his grip loosens just enough.

I wrench free, scrambling to my feet.

Sucking in ragged breaths, I dart down the narrow hallway, Tony’s curses echoing behind me.

I burst into my tiny bedroom and slam the door, fumbling with the flimsy lock.

My heart pounds wildly against my ribs as I lean against it, hardly believing what just happened.

No more.

I can’t live like this for one more goddamn day.

Tears spill down my cheeks, but I brush them away roughly.

Pounding on my door yanks me from my thoughts, reverberating through the thin walls.

Tony’s screaming bloody murder out there, spittle probably flying from his cracked lips. “You little bitch! Open this damn door right now and give me back what you owe me!”

I press my palms over my ears, trying to block out his grating voice.

Same shit, different day.

He always needs someone to blame when he pisses away their money on booze and scratch-offs.

The doorknob rattles violently as he yanks on it. “I’m gonna bust down this door and beat it outta you, hear me?”

I let out a shaky breath, shoving down the fear churning in my gut.

This is nothing new—his groundless accusations, the threats.

How many times have I heard it all before?

But I refuse to cower anymore.

I’m almost eighteen.

Old enough to strike out on my own and find a job somewhere that’s not a greasy diner or gas station.

Hell, maybe I’ll even finish school, though that dream feels far-fetched in this moment.

I wipe my damp cheeks with the hem of my shirt, wincing as the movement tugs on my split lip.

Gently, I probe the tender skin around my eye.

Fuck, another shiner to cover up.

A bitter laugh escapes me.

I should’ve gotten wise to their game years ago, the moment Mom brought Tony and his baggage home.

I was a dumb kid, wanting to believe her promises that this time would be different.

What a fucking joke.

Tony’s still ranting and raving, but his voice is growing hoarse.

He can’t keep this up forever.

My gaze darts around the cramped room at the tattered band posters and thrift store knickknacks.

I’ve wasted too many years here already, trapped in this cycle of poverty and abuse.

I can’t let it suck me in any deeper.

Jaw clenched with determination, I drag my duffle bag from the closet and start shoving clothes inside.

A plan begins to take shape in my mind.

It’s a long shot, but what do I have to lose?

Anything’s better than rotting away in this toxic wasteland.

I’m getting the hell out of here.

Tonight.

The trailer door slams, rattling the thin walls.

I freeze, straining to hear over my pounding heart.

Muffled curses and the crunch of gravel signal Tony’s departure.

I don’t trust the silence.

It could be a trap, him lying in wait to catch me off guard.

But as an engine growls to life and tires spit dirt, I let out a shaky breath.

He’s gone, but he’s likely to blow more cash at the local dive.

Adrenaline urges me into action. I zip up the duffle, the clothing jumbled inside, mirroring my chaotic thoughts.

My hands tremble as I yank on boots and a hoodie, ignoring the metallic taste of blood on my tongue.

I can’t afford to fall apart now.

Swiping the little savings from my sock drawer, I stuff the crumpled bills into my pocket.

It’s not much, but it’ll have to do.

I slip out the back door, daring one last glance at the rusted trailer I’ve called home for far too long.

Part of me aches at abandoning Mom and my little brother, Alfie, but she made her choice long ago.

I have to save myself before I go down with her.

Gravel bites into my soles as I hurry down the darkened road, duffle bouncing against my hip.

My best friend, Harlow’s place is a good mile away, but I don’t dare slow down.

Fear propels me forward, my breaths coming in harsh puffs.

I can’t shake the feeling that Tony might return any second. His fury reignited.

After what feels like an eternity, Harlow’s sagging porch comes into view.

Light spills from the windows, a beacon of hope in the gloom.

I stumble up the steps, a sob lodged in my throat.

Please be home.

Please don’t turn me away.

I barely finish knocking before the door swings open, revealing Harlow’s surprised face. “Mandy? What the hell?—”

“I’m done,” I choke out, the dam finally breaking.

Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I collapse into her arms. “I can’t go back there, Harlow. I just can’t.”

She holds me tight, her embrace a lifeline. “Shh, I got you,” she soothes, stroking my matted hair. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out together.”

Harlow guides me inside, kicking the door shut behind us.

Her mother looks up from the couch, concern, etching deep lines into her face.

I brace myself for the barrage of questions, the judgment sure to follow.

But instead, she rises and wraps me in a fierce hug, her flowery perfume enveloping me. “You’re safe now, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re staying here tonight, no arguments.”

I nod mutely, too overwhelmed to protest.

Harlow leads me to the bathroom, pressing a wad of tissues into my hand. “Get cleaned up,” she orders gently. “I’ll make up the couch for you.”

As I mechanically wipe away the grime and blood, snippets of hushed conversation drift through the thin walls.

“. . . can’t send her back there, Mom. You know how bad it is . . .”

“. . . course not. Poor thing’s been through enough . . .”

“. . . gotta get out of this town. Both of us. Before it’s too late . . .”

A flicker of hope sparks in my chest.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the turning point I’ve been desperate for.

A chance to break free from the cycle of misery and start fresh somewhere new.

Somewhere far away from the ghost of Tony’s fists and Mom’s broken promises.