The back of his hand connected with the side of my face and pain exploded.

It wasn’t the first time that I’d been hit though, and I ignored the pain, letting the momentum carry me around until my fist smashed into his face. His head snapped back as blood poured from his nose.

He came at me with his hands extended and I dodged to the side. I should have looked around the room better. I should have picked up a weapon and hit him in the head before I did anything. I should have done a lot of things.

But I hadn’t and now I had to deal with this gangly bastard who had a much longer reach than I did. His next blow bounced off my shoulder and knocked me off a step, but didn’t do any real damage.

He kicked me next and I shifted, catching his foot the way I’d learned in self-defense, then using my foot to kick the knee of his supporting leg.

There was a sick, wet crack and he screamed, grabbing the front of my shirt, taking me with him as he went down. Panicking, I swept out my hand for any sort of weapon.

He reared up as he rolled me under him, an ugly look on his face. “That hurt, bitch,” he said, blood dripping from his face to me.

He’d made a big mistake, trying to loom over me like that. I pulled my legs up between us and snapped my legs out, kicking him square in the face. He groaned, swiping out a hand as I staggered to my feet, my head spinning. Really spinning. I must have smacked it when we fell.

Cutting a wide berth around him, I made my way over to Daytin who was now sitting up, looking around foggily. She blinked bleary eyes at me and tugged her thin tank top down over her bare breasts. “What’s goin’…Camry? What’re you doin’ here?”

“You called me,” I said, crouching down next to her, but trying to watch the guy out of the corner of my eye too. “Come on, honey. Let’s get out of here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she said, tears welling in her big, too-young eyes. “This was all I could do, Camry. It’s all I’m good at.”

“No, it’s not. Come on.”

As I helped her up, a little broken by why she’d said, I forgot something crucial – I stopped watching my back, and I didn’t realize it until I turned.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” he said, half-hopping toward us.

I shoved Daytin out of the way just as he swung a big, bony fist at me. My foot hit something and I heard the rattle of glass as I swayed, cursing under my breath. My scrabbling fingers found the neck of a bottle and I swung it as hard as I could.

I made contact with a shock that numbed my arm from fingertips to elbow.

“Dumb…bitch…” he mumbled, the words thick as he dropped, eyes rolling back.

I took a step back, shocked that I’d managed to knock him out. And then I felt it. A pain in my chest. Staring down, I blinked, unable to process what I thought I saw. Even as my rush started, I was still trying to deny the needle sticking out of my chest.

“Aw, no…no, no, no…”

“Camry!” Daytin grabbed my arm and turned me toward her. “What’s wrong? Did he hurt you?”

“Yes,” I said just as a giggle escaped me. The familiar rush of heroin hitting my bloodstream was as delicious as it was heart-breaking. “Get me…” Another snort escaped me. “Get us out of here, can you, sweetheart? Please?”

“I…where can we go?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“My car.” The words were harder to get out, harder to make sense now. I had to hurry, leave before I stopped remembering why it was important to get away from this place. “My car’s…out front.”

Time began to move in familiar fits and starts. Jumping. Jerking. Slowing. Speeding.

Colors and music bled together.

I felt like I could reach out and touch the moon, wrap myself in the night.

It was sweet. It was toxic.

I was in so much trouble and I had no idea why.

A hand touched my forehead and I heard a voice I knew. “Talk to me, Camry. Where do we go?”

There was someplace to go, I thought. Someplace important.

But what did it matter?

I shoved the hand away.

“Don’t hate me, Camry. I’m sorry.”

Then I was alone.

The lights had stopped.

The music was gone.

I was cold and people banged on the window.

What window?

I wasn’t sure where I was, but there was a window.

And keys.

When I jumped and shrieked at the banging window, keys in my hand hit the glass.

“A car,” I whispered, frowning.

I’d been lost in music and touching the moon, but now I was in a car and I wasn’t safe. Slowly, I hauled myself into the other seat. The doors were locked. The windows were up. But people were still beating on them—two men. I could see leering faces, and one of them was rubbing his chest like…

Slowly, I looked down and saw that my shirt was ripped, baring my chest. That cleared my head a little even as tears burned my eyes.

I had to drive.

I had to move.

It wasn’t safe.

Driving wasn’t safe, because my head was all gooey and wrong. Was I drunk? I didn’t think I was. I didn’t drink anymore. Was I high? I couldn’t be. I’d stopped drugs. I was clean. I was clean and straight and sober and I still wasn’t good enough.

But I wasn’t going to stay there and let two men keep staring at me as I sat there with my bra showing.

How had my shirt gotten ripped?

“It doesn’t matter,” I announced, my voice too loud in the quiet car.

Something next to me flashed and I recognized my phone.

When somebody smacked on the window, I grabbed the phone and held it up.

“I call the cops,” I said, still in that too loud voice.

“Go ahead, sweetie. You’re plastered!”

He didn’t think I would.

I did. I called 9-1-1.

Then I started driving.

“Two men are trying to break into a woman’s car,” I said as I slowly drove off. “She’s sleeping and they want to break in and hurt her.”

I felt very righteous and smug as I continued to drive.

That feeling kept up until I drove my car right into the rear end of another parked one.

Then things went black...

...And my phone was ringing.

I didn’t know who was calling.

I knew I didn’t want to talk to them—or anybody.

Except maybe Jacen.

With my head pounding, I cracked one eye open, then the other and looked around. It was dark out and I didn’t recognize anything.

No. That wasn’t exactly true—I recognized my car, although somebody had spray painted on the window.

Bitch.

Blinking in confusion, I read it again. Yes. It said bitch.

Head thick, muddled with confusion, I looked around as I tried to make sense of what was going on.

My heart was racing and I reached up to rub at my chest.

Doing so made me gasp and I looked down.

Bra. Bruises.

Memory came rushing back.

I shoved the door open and puked.

Then, with that fetid taste still in my mouth, I slammed the door shut and started the car.

I had to get to Jacen.

That was all that mattered.

I had to get to Jacen.