Elle needed a book out of her locker, so Chloe went with her during break to retrieve it. The last class of the day seemed to come quickly after lunch. Surprisingly, they shared every class except the second one of the day. While she had art, Elle had health class. It sucked to not have the exact same schedule, but thankfully, it was only one class.

Watching Elle open the locker, she saw a rectangular piece of paper flutter to the ground.

“What the …?” Elle bent over to pick it up. Turning it over to the other side, her expression changed.

Chloe stared at what she thought was a piece of paper, but what was actually a photograph. The photo was of Elle lying on the pavement, bloody and broken, the exact image Chloe had thought of earlier. One of them must have snapped a photo of her when Chloe had been heading back into the school.

“W-who did this?”

They both looked around to see who had placed the photo, and they saw Sebastian standing against his locker, smiling evilly.

Elle quickly turned around, shoving the photo in her bag along with all her books. “Go get everything out of your locker.”

“I h-had no idea he took t-that—”

“Go get your stuff,” Elle ordered, continuing to clean out her locker.

“I d-didn’t kno—”

The slamming of Elle’s locker made her jump.

Taking a deep breath, Elle tried again, “I know you didn’t. We need to get to class. He’s not happy with me bashing him this morning about the whole car wreck thing, so he’s letting me know he can beat the crap out of me again if he wanted.”

Agreeing, Chloe quickly went to her locker, putting all the contents shakily into her bag.

“I’m sorry, E-Elle,” she whispered.

“It’s okay.” Trying to make her feel better, she went to pat her shoulder.

A small gasp escaped Chloe’s throat before she quickly moved out of the way.

Stepping back a bit, Elle held her hands up. “Sorry.”

It took Chloe a moment before she went to put the last book from her locker into her bag and closed it.

“We need to get to class … fast.”

Watching Elle swiftly leave with a sad look on her face, Chloe rubbed her shoulder where Elle’s hand had almost touched her. It was like her skin burned. Burned by the hand of her demon.

* * *

Elle sat on her bed, staring down at the picture she had found in her locker today. It was strange to see herself that damaged on the pavement. She had looked at herself in the mirror after it had happened, but it was still strange to see it in person, as if she were looking down at herself in that moment when she had thought death was going to greet her.

A droplet of water fell from her cheek onto the photo. Don’t let them make you cry anymore.

Getting up, she went to her bookshelf and grabbed a photo album off the shelf. Sitting back on her bed, she flipped through the pages, glancing at the photos of herself throughout the years.

She looked happy in every picture, and her long, strawberry-blonde hair used to frame her face perfectly.

Reaching up, she touched the strands she had left now that fell to the base of her neck.

Nope, don’t you cry.

Finally going to the first blank page, she stuck the horrendous photo of herself that Sebastian had given her as a warning message into the photo album. She was going to remember this exact image of herself for the remainder of the school year. Then, when the new school year started at her new school, she could look back at this photo and thank God she had survived.

She closed the book. “I will survive.”

* * *

Looking across the dinner table, Chloe watched her father pour more of the hard liquor into his glass.

He downed the contents the asked, “Are you going to s-s-stare at me o-or eat?”

“Eat, Chloe,” her mother commanded.

Looking down at her plate, she picked up the fork to eat, but she had no appetite. The only reason she was sitting there and not in her room was because her mother had insisted.

“Quit acting like you’re a victim,” her mother’s words rang through her head again.

She glanced back up when she heard the liquor bottle ting against his glass once more.

Quickly, she put her eyes back on the plate when he downed the contents in a split second.

Maxwell wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Go.”

Stunned by his harsh voice, she couldn’t move. He had sounded just like—

“Get the fuck out of my fac-c-ce!” He slammed his hand down on the table, making the silverware quiver. “I can’t even-n-n look at you!”

Jumping up from the table, she tried not to trip as she started sprinting from the table like her life depended on it.

Her father became scarier by the day, each day reminding her more and more of the one who had given her nightmares.

Her eyes became cloudy, blurring her vision along the way. Once she reached her room, she slammed the door shut and leaned her back against the door before falling to the floor, sobbing.

She had asked herself many times, Why me? Why did this happen to me? But tonight, she had started asking herself a different question.

“Why couldn’t I have died?”