It was a normal day, or as normal as they’d become.

I’d had two years of Channing acting like a dick—fighting, cursing, being a jerk. He’d apologize, and I’d forgive him because I was spineless, or just an idiot girl in love. There’d be cuddling, making out, and I’d be happy for a few days.

Then he would start again.

As Channing grew more and more into a dick, I worked more and more at Manny’s. I was a full-time staff member by the time I was fourteen. Don’t tell the government. Manny’s was home to me. It had become my sanctuary away from Channing’s craziness. He and his friends were out of control. Some nights he crawled into my bed and I didn’t recognize him. He sounded like a stranger. He reeked of alcohol. Most nights there was blood on him—either his or someone else’s.

I stopped asking.

He stopped telling me.

Today was my first day of junior year at Roussou. I’d barely talked to Channing over the summer, which I wasn’t thinking about. He still slipped in at night, but that’d been it for us. Not a lot of conversation happened then, and coming to school, I didn’t know if the nightmare would start up again or there’d be a break in something. Anything.

It happened when I was walking down the hallway, books in hand. I was going to my fifth period class when I saw her.

A girl slipped out of Gus’ janitor’s closet.

Nothing about her should’ve caught my attention. Closet hook-ups happened all the time.

But, for whatever reason, I saw her.

Her lipstick was smeared. It was obvious what she’d been doing.

I started to move past, looking for my classroom, when the door swung open again.

I saw his shoes first. The same black sneakers that’d been by my bed this morning. The same shoes he’d kicked off as he climbed through the window and jumped into my bed. The same shoes he shoved his feet in when he needed a quick getaway.

My heart sank.

I jerked to a stop, nearly falling over.

I couldn’t… My head was swimming. I couldn’t think that.

Right?

He wouldn’t do that.

Right?

But he came out.

The same jeans.

The same hands.

The same tattoos on his arms.

The same shirt I’d watched him pull on this morning.

The same face.

The same lips—no, not the same.

There was lipstick smeared over his lips, and he rubbed at the side of his face as he stepped fully out.

I was on the opposite side of the hallway. He first looked at the students moving past, and then his eyes darted around until he saw me. He straightened up, his hand falling away, and I saw more lipstick there.

Jesus.

I sucked in my breath. My hands tightened on my books. It was like she’d branded him.

He’d cheated on me. I’d caught him red-handed.

An apology flashed in his eyes, but no. No way.

He stepped forward, toward me, but I slammed back into the lockers behind me. I heard the sound, but I never felt it. I just shook my head.

He mouthed my name, but I shook my head again.

No fucking way.

My hands were shaking.

No FUCKING way!

My books fall to the floor. I never heard the thud.

NO FUCKING WAY!

My legs were trembling. My knees knocked against each other.

I was done.

I felt light-headed. Spots appeared in my vision, but fuck him.

Done.

Fuck her.

DONE!

Fuck everything.

I was already gone.

Turning away, I walked past my classroom. I walked past the office. I walked all the way out to the parking lot, got the extra set of keys Channing kept under his truck, and I drove to Fallen Crest Public High School.

I broke up with him, transferred schools, and took his vehicle—all without saying a word to anyone.

I was done with Roussou.