Preface
Thirty seconds.
That’s how long it’s been since I took my last breath. Since my eyes found the worry on the face in front of me. Thirty seconds is all it took for me to realize I am in love with Rex.
Thirty. Seconds.
Such a small amount of time for such a monumental revelation. The funny thing about time, sometimes it passes soul-crushingly slow. Other times it goes in the blink of an eye. There’s no rhyme or reason. Time, like Life and Death, does what she wants.
Thinking back to the last eight weeks, she flew by faster than hummingbird wings beating over a hollyhock. Faster than she’s moved my whole life, and now, in this moment, Time has slowed to a crawl.
People say, before events of extreme trauma and almost death, your life flashes before your eyes. I think that’s what’s happening, only I don’t see my whole life. Except for a few key moments, it’s been shit and not worth remembering. Instead, I see the last eight weeks.
I. See. Rex.
He made these last two months memorable. His persistence and damn near electric touch made me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of. He brought the light when I was consumed in darkness. He saved me in every sense of the word.
It’s my turn to save him.
Just one second after my life altering revelation a bullet no bigger than my thumb nail will shoot out of a slate black barrel. And if I let it, that tiny piece of metal will snuff out Rex’s light. Darkness will consume him, devour me, and I’ll be left with nothing but a broken heart and shattered will to live. I can live with dying inside, but I can’t let the darkness take him.
The arm keeping me from Rex loosens as a fat finger moves to pull the trigger. My spine no longer presses against a stomach, round from too much whiskey and gas station food. A chill slides through me. Sweat on the small of my back icing over as the cold lobby air blows our way.
This is my chance.
I can’t hesitate. I lunge myself forward milliseconds before the boom of the pistol echoes in the lobby. I’m sure the hotel’s guests heard it, I can’t see how they didn’t, but to my knowledge no one is downstairs with us. The concierge lady ran away ages ago. The kitchen staff is probably hiding and anyone who might have been making their way to an early breakfast has likely taken cover. None of this matters. Whoever they are, they don’t matter.
The only person I’m worried about is Rex.
Pain pierces my shoulder, rippling throughout my chest. My hands find Rex’s shirtless body, touching his silky skin for what probably will be the last time. I shove him out of the way and fall to the ground, the wind knocked from my lungs.
Please let me have reached him in time.
I roll onto my back and struggle to fill the empty spaces inside with air. Each breath tangles with fire that seeps into every crevice of my being. My lungs fill, air pressing down on me with the force of an elephant. I exhale, bubbles rumbling beneath my chest, and attempt to take another breath.
“Stupid bitch.” Our assailant says, barely a foot away. His voice is lost, muffled as if it’s on the other end of a tunnel.
I should see more, feel more, but the world’s hazy. A blur of swirling colors and lights. A dark shadow towers over me. I want to see the face but it’s a pit of darkness. This is the moment I realize that I’m about to get what I wanted. Well, used to want. Death has finally come to take me away.
Only I'm not ready to go anymore. I need to know that Rex is okay. That I saved him. My life’s meant nothing. I’ve done nothing purposeful; but to die in place of someone I love would make my miserable existence worth something. I turn my head searching where I think he should be but can’t see anything.
Icy fingers curl around my wrist. I shiver, mentally willing Death to leave me be, begging her to give me five more minutes. A chill slithers through my veins like venom from a snake, paralyzing me from head to toe.
The shadowy figure above me leans closer, “Piper.”
1
Piper
I’m the school slut. It’s a title I wear, not proudly, but well because it’s what’s expected of me. Everyone at St. A’s High School knows my bio-mom’s a whore—a real screw-you-for-money whore— that slept with the physics teacher last week.
Thank you, Facebook, for tagging me in that humiliating article.
Not.
Bio-mom was arrested for all of two seconds before making bail thanks to her pimp and the John she got caught with, he also happens to be my first period teacher this year. So, on top of the normal whispers spread about me on the daily, that mess is going around too.
It’s fine.
I’m used to my name being in everyone’s mouth. It’s been that way since the third grade. Back then, people talked about my dirty nails, how skinny I was, and how my best friend was a boy. In high school, the daily gossip changed to where I moved to, what alleged drugs I was on, and eventually who I had spread my legs for. When the rumor started that I gave a killer blowjob for fifty bucks, no one doubted it. Why would they? I’m the girl with a whore for a mom. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks.
Literally.
There’s the rich side of town where my classmates live, the good side, the tracks, and then that side. It’s like the shadowy place in the Lion King Simba was warned to stay away from. Yeah...bio-mom lives there.
Anyway, not long after that rumor about me started, I figured what the hell. They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I was given stupid, horny boys. So, I made money.
For the record, I’ve never actually touched anybody. At first, I turned everyone who approached me down. But there were a select few I eventually said yes to. The most selfish, conceited, disrespectful guys in our school got special treatment.
Underneath the shadows of the stadium bleachers, they dropped their pants. Exposed their less-than-exciting-junk to me. And then I kicked them straight in the balls. Those jerks fell to their knees, cursing my name while I took all the cash from their wallets. It was the perfect hustle.
Anyway, all of this is why I’m being stared down by Tad Parker. Captain of the baseball team, running back on the football team, and total tool. Bloodshot eyes narrow on my face, expecting a different answer to the question asked this morning.
“It’s still a hard no, Tad.” I stop walking and cross my arms.
While I’d love to take the pretty boy for all he’s got, I’m trying to turn a new leaf and make the most of what’s left of my senior year. I don’t expect to fix my reputation, but I’m trying to change the way I see myself. Which means no more pretend illicit acts for money.
Tad rolls his bloodshot eyes and pulls
a brown leather wallet that probably costs as much as a year’s tuition from his back pocket. He thumbs through his cash, offering more twenties than I’ve held in my entire life. “Come on, Piper. I’ll make it worth your while. Five hundred. Right now for five minutes in the bathroom.”
Tad’s a good looking guy, if you’re into that classic blond-haired, blue-eyed, prince charming wannabe look with the attitude of Gaston. He has no shortage of self-entitled princesses throwing themselves at him.
I shake my head and push his arm back. My checking account may be teetering on the edge of zero, but I’m not this desperate. “Why not hit up one of the JV cheerleaders. They’d jump at the chance to get tangled up with you. For free.”
“Because they aren’t Piper fucking Lovelace. Now come on.” Tad’s hand curls around my arm. He squeezes, pulling me towards the stadium bathrooms.
One Mississippi.
My airway constricts. Bats swarm in my stomach, threatening to bring up the vending machine cinnamon roll I had after fourth period. I absolutely detest being touched; it sets off a catalyst of reactions that steadily get worse. My one and only thought at this point is to make Tad let go.
I dig my heels into the ground and yank my arm back, but my efforts are useless. I try to pry his fingers off me, punch him, kick him in the leg. Nothing I do makes a difference. Tad’s too strong. Even with my best attempt at a struggle, he drags me clear across the parking lot almost effortlessly.
Two Mississippi.
My hands tremble, sending vibrations up my arms and throughout my body. I need help. I hate asking for help almost as much as I hate being touched, but I don’t have much choice. I look to my left and then my right, but there’s no one in sight. No one to hear my screams. I try anyway, opening my mouth to yell, but nothing comes out. This can’t be happening. I swallow the tiny bit of saliva in my bone dry throat and try again.