Page 34 of Her Defiant Heart (Damaged Hearts 1)

I feel too battered and bruised. Too raw and…ugly. Yes, ugly. Greg called me terrible names. He wanted to hurt me.

And comparing what Greg tried to do to me versus my experience with Rhett the night before? How sweet yet aggressive Rhett had been, and how much I wanted him? My brain can’t compute all the conflicting thoughts.

I skip school, something I can’t afford to do, considering I’m already behind. But I know I won’t be able to concentrate on the lectures, so why waste my time? I stay in bed for three days straight, until my hair is stringy and greasy and I’ve been in the

same clothes for so long I’m starting to smell funky. The entire time I do nothing but watch new movies on this illegal download site I find, and when that gets boring I watch a bunch of crime shows on YouTube.

All the tales of murder, double-crossing and serial rapists get to me. Make me think my life was turning into a made-for-TV movie—or at least excellent fodder for one of these crime shows. They always say “based on a true story”—and my true story is so messed up. It just keeps getting worse.

I cry too. I mentally ask myself a lot of questions. Like what the hell am I doing? Do I really want to be this person? I almost let some old guy rape me for thousands. Hell, I still got some of the money and I bet that pissed Greg off so bad.

So what does that make me? A whore?

Yes. In my eyes, definitely yes.

I had sex with Rhett just so I can get closer to his stepmother, aka my mother. How messed up is that? Is what happened with Greg karma trying to get back at me for what I’m doing to Rhett? I’m using Rhett, so Greg used me?

I’m starting to think that’s it. That’s why this happened. My decisions have led me down this path, and now it’s become so awful, so fraught with too many scary unknowns, I don’t think I can handle it any longer.

When I can’t take myself anymore, I finally get out of bed and take the longest shower of my life, almost as long as the one I took Saturday night, when I tried my best to scrub Greg off my skin. I threw away the skirt and panties because they smelled like him and his expensive cologne, and the scent made me want to vomit.

Just the mere thought of Greg makes me want to vomit.

After my shower, I lotion myself up good, blow-dry my hair, apply some light makeup, and then start packing. Like, anything I can shove into my one old suitcase that once belonged to my dad, it goes in there. I don’t have a lot of furniture or personal items, so anything left behind I don’t care about.

I need to get the hell out of here.

After grabbing the biggest tote bag I own from my closet, I throw my old purse inside as well. I sit on the saggy pleather couch and go on the Internet, searching for a bus ticket back to my hometown, finding one that would leave in about ninety minutes. I could take city transit to the bus depot and leave. Forget school and Rhett and my mother. Forget City Lights and Savannah and Don and Chuck. It’s best if I leave everything behind and pretend Jensen never existed.

Despite all the planning and time and energy I put into this, I need to abandon my revenge plan. It’s getting me into a lot of trouble. Trouble I don’t need.

Deciding I’d rather purchase the bus ticket with cash, I give up my ticket search and go into the kitchen, where I throw away everything that’s old or close to expiring. Once I have that clean, I go through the tiny cupboard I call my pantry, tossing out bags of stale chips and boxes of old crackers. I find a few snacks I can take with me on the bus, stuff I can eat later, plus a couple of bottles of water, and I shove it all in my tote bag.

The cash Don gave me plus the little bit I’d saved over the months is bound with a rubber band and stashed inside a flower-printed cosmetics bag my dad gave me when I turned thirteen. It’s faded now, and kind of hideous, but I’ve never been able to part with it.

My one sentimental piece beyond the earrings that belong to my mother.

After eating a giant bowl of cereal with the last of the milk from the fridge, I toss the plastic bowl in the trash along with the milk carton and then move through my tiny house to turn out all the lights. I lock the back door, make sure all the blinds and curtains are closed, and I finally grab my stuff and start to head out the front door. I’ve paid rent through this month, and there’s only a few more days left before a new month starts. When I don’t make my next regular payment, I know my landlord will come here looking for me. I should probably leave a note, but screw it. They’ll be able to figure out I’m gone.

Not that they’ll really care.

With an irritated huff, I throw open the door and stop short at what I find waiting for me on the front porch.

A bouquet of flowers in a glass vase, though they’re nothing standard like a dozen roses or anything like that. No, this arrangement is a variety of colorful, vibrant wildflowers, and they are absolutely gorgeous.

No one has ever given me flowers before.

I drop my tote to the ground and leave my suitcase standing upright as I bend down to pick up the vase. I bury my face in the flowers, their velvety petals caressing my cheeks, their delicious scent filling my head. There’s no card, and for the briefest, scariest moment, I wonder if they could be from Greg.

That means he knows where I live.

“I’ve been waiting for you out here for almost an hour.”

Whirling around, I watch in disbelief as Rhett walks across my weed-filled yard, a bashful smile on his face. I glance down at the flowers, then back up at him. I’m shocked that he’s here. After the ugliness of the last few days, his presence lights me up. Lightens me up. Makes me feel…

Hopeful.

“These are from you?” I hold the vase out.

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