My thighs cradled Grey's as the motorcycle came to a harsh stop in front of the driveway, and I was terrified that this was going to end.

This easygoing dynamic that flowed so easily between the two of us...I couldn't bare it having to end so soon.

I was spared being alone with him and having to bear an awkward silence when Maria came bursting outside with her hands on her hips and two mugs of what I sincerely hoped was coffee in her hands.

I wanted to get ahead in my AP Literature course before tomorrow, so that left either tonight or tomorrow morning for researching topics for our final paper.

I preferred doing my studying at night, however, so if that was coffee...and if one of those mugs was for me, Maria was going to become my new favorite person.

Or my only favorite person. I didn't even know if Mori had that qualification yet.

The slow decline of my mind started the moment I slid off Grey's bike, however.

Like somehow, being in Grey's presence and the absence of triggers had allowed my mind to be fully free and clear, but now as reality was coming crashing back down, so, too, was the sinking realization that I could never escape the fact that my life was not my own.

My life was in the hands of others who, more often than not, did not care about my own wellbeing, but the money lining their pockets from the state for taking in a foster kid.

It didn't matter how hard I studied, how much I kept myself out of trouble. It didn't matter if I got a job to make extra money to squirrel away, because somehow they all always found where I'd stashed it and took it for themselves.

It didn't matter that I was in an apparently welcoming and wholesome home now. It didn't matter; because the worst thing that could've happened to me already had, so what was the point in even trying anymore?

Because who would believe me?

The police hadn't.

Maybe Maria had, or maybe she was just biding her time until I turned eighteen and maybe would use her legal prowess to somehow make herself the beneficiary of my trust if she was my legal guardian at the time I turned eighteen.

Maybe behind all the stainless steel appliances and granite countertops and manicured perfection she'd concocted in her home, they were secretly bankrupt.

Maybe it was all Grey's fault and the expensive surgeries to bring back his voice to blame for it, too.

Because what was I besides someone to use and defile for someone else's gain?

What was I besides an empty hollowed out vessel of a person who mattered less and less each day, the world taking chunks and pieces and bites out of me each and ever moment I survived.

"Cami? I asked if you wanted some coffee?"

Maria was suddenly right in front of me, Grey standing off to the side with his hands crossed in front of his chest staring at me with a hint of concern dancing behind the gilded amber of his irises.

How long had I been staring there silently, staring at nothing? Let the numbness sweep in and invade the pain creep in under the surface, beneath the usually unthinking facade I always kept up to stop me from the breakdown always a thought away?

"No, thank you."

My voice was a monotoned robot, and Grey flinched at the sound as if I'd physically slapped him with it.

Maria only frowned in concern at me, the small crow's feet crinkling around the corners of her eyes the perfect mirror image of the son standing at her side.

A sharp breeze ruffled the long expanse of hair on my head, sending it flying in each and every direction, but I didn't feel the chill, even as Maria hugged herself and shivered.

"Come on, let's get you inside--"

But I had already started walking ahead of her, not sparing her or Grey a single look backwards.

Their concerned or judgmental stares pierced hot daggers into my back.

I could only think of the next day at school and facing everything that would soon come crashing right back down on me.

I cut the tether off to the impending doom circling over me.

I didn't care. No, I didn't care at all.

It was midnight by the time my eyes grew weary and strained from staring at my school-provided laptop, essay topic chosen and sources picked out, outline complete and quotes arduously chosen.

All that was left was to write the actual paper and implement all the research I'd painstakingly gathered over the past two hours.

When the aching of my mind tried to escape past the barriers I'd created to keep the shadow pain at bay, from taking over my waking thoughts and turning me into a zombie like what had happened earlier with Maria and Grey.

It hadn't happened in years; that was how tight the leash had been on the demons in my mind.

I thought I'd had it under control.

Apparently the stain Colton had left on me was stronger than I thought.

It wasn't that big a deal, in the grand scheme of things.

Girls were hurt like that every day--worse, even. How was anything that he had done to me comparable to what they'd gone through?

What right did I have to wallow in this sharp and overwhelming pain?

What did I expect, anyway?

Why would someone like me expect respect, especially from someone like Colton?

They were all the same; guys like him...

His friends, Carter, Nate, Alec, maybe even Parker.

But not Grey.

I could tell there was something different about him. There was something so completely different about Grey, and it wasn't just the trauma that colored him anything but the lackluster color of his namesake, but in stripes of deep, bleeding red and shadowed, broken black.

Grey was a myriad of colors; least of all the shade between black and white.

My parched throat led me from the spacious and brightly painted bedroom I'd been gifted next door to Grey and pushed me downstairs toward the kitchen where I found myself filling up a glass of water, grateful that I'd torn through the drawers Maria had stocked with brand new clothes while I'd been off with Grey otherwise I'd have been sleeping in my underwear and traipsing around the Hartingrove home half naked.

It was still a shock to be in the household of the infamous family. No, it wasn't like they owned the academy we all attended, but it was as close as you could get.

Their father was the dean.

Richard Hartingrove was the dean of Hartingrove Academy, and the school had been in their family for generations, though the ownership was placed in the hands of members on the board so that all the power wasn't solely in one person's hands.

At least, that's what Mori told me when I asked why the Hartingrove's just didn't own the whole damn place.

Maria was a lawyer and their father was a dean of a prestigious school; no wonder these people had so much money.

I was halfway through filling up my drink with their smart fridge (that actually had a touch screen on its front) when the front door slammed open and creaked on its hinges.

In through a narrow strip of moonlight strode who I assumed was Grey and Parker's father--Richard--carrying a briefcase and running a hand through already disheveled hair.

As with the light he brought in with him, so, too, was the wafting scent of liquor that I distinctly remembered from my time with the Peterson's and their alcoholic mother.

I could even pinpoint the type of liquor he'd been drinking: Bourbon, and a stout brand at that.

This man wasn't instilling any confidence into me about this home at this point.

It was sad, really, watching as the tall and thin statured man ambled into the kitchen and his brown hair caught on the sliver of moonlight shining pale through the still half-open door.

Suddenly a sharp memory I thought I'd repressed down deep in the far corners of my mind jumped up and slapped me in the face, seizing my body and nearly toppling me over as I clung onto the countertop, water forgotten in the memory's haze inducing pull.

My mom had just tucked me into bed, but I was still thirsty. I didn't want to bother her; she'd been so tired lately and I didn't know why. We hung out every day.

She always used to tell me that I was her job, but it was one she didn't mind doing, as long as I was happy, she was happy.

I didn't want to make her unhappy.

I slid my slim twelve-year-old legs through my blankets and hopped down off my bed and wandered into the kitchen, the quack of the ducks on my slippers echoing throughout the airy house with each step I took.

Quack. Quack. Quack.

I shouldn't have worn the noisy slippers, but I didn't know what I was going to walk in on, either.

"No, I just got her to sleep! Quick, out the door."

A man was trying his hardest to be sneaky, but I didn't know why my mom wanted to hide someone from me. Was he her friend, my dad's friend? Surely not if she was hiding him away like that.

Was my mom cheating on my dad? I was old enough to know about it, especially since Bryson's parent's got divorced because his dad cheated on his mom.

My mom loved my dad, though.

She couldn't be cheating on him...

The man slid through a crack in the doorway barely a few inches thick, his thin body angling through quickly and he sighed as he escaped, not bothering to close the door behind him, like he'd gotten away with it.

I just caught sight of his side profile--black sideburns and a huge sloping nose with a big bump in the middle--when my mom scooped me up from the floor and planted me on the kitchen island.

"Hello? Do we have another mute in the family now? Jesus, what has Maria gotten us into now."

The man was speaking to me, directly in front of me and staring at me like I was slow in the mind.

I shook my head once, twice, three times before clearing my head and noticing my surroundings.

The water was on the counter, and my hands were shaking.

"S-sorry. I'm Cami. Nice to meet you."

"Cami? Nice to meet you too. I'm Richard. Now don't you have school in the morning?"

I tried to study his facial features in the dim light but all I could make out were deep set brown eyes that seemed like they were scowling along with the rest of his entire body.

He was just one giant scowl.

"Right. Goodnight."

I quickly turned on my heel and ran up the stairs, heart thumping and about to tear through my throat.

I didn't waste time getting ready for bed and praised Maria for already stocking the bathroom with everything a teenaged girl might need, from high end moisturizers to lotions and facial cleaners and serums.

I scrubbed my face with soap and water and brushed my teeth before grabbing the unopened hairbrush package.

I tore into it and was just about to start taming the unruly mess on my head when I heard a noise coming from outside my bedroom door.

Setting down the hairbrush, I tiptoed over to the door and pulled the soft robe I'd been wearing tight around my waist.

I inched open the door a sliver of an inch to see Parker standing there before me, something akin to torture swimming around in those blue eyes of his.

"Cami."

"Parker."

"We need to talk."