Page 72 of Made of Steel (Made of Steel 1)

I nodded.

"What's going on with you and your RA?"

"Nothing."

"He's into you. You realize that, right?"

I thought about last night on the roof. Miles said when he saw me, it felt like he could breathe again. He had been pining over me, just like I had been pining over him. But it didn't take away the fact that he had made me feel abandoned. I didn't even believe him when he told me he had kept writing to me. Kins said he was a player. He was probably just playing games with my head. But I understood what it felt like to not be able to breathe. I meant what I had told him. He should be looking at the stars instead of at me. Besides, it seemed like he was more into the idea of me than he actually was into me. "I don't reciprocate his feelings."

"I don't really feel comfortable with you talking to him anymore."

I looked up at him. I had been telling myself to stay away from Miles since I first saw him at the diner. For some reason I couldn't stay away. Maybe Eli telling me to would be the push that I needed. "Then I won't talk to him anymore."

Eli smiled. "Let's be honest with each other from here on out, okay?"

I nodded.

"Sealed with a kiss?" He leaned forward before I could even respond.

Flames. Flames everywhere.

***

I opened up the door to my dorm room and turned on the lights. I was hoping that Kins would be home to hang out. For some reason, the idea of being alone with my thoughts was stifling. I was about to turn around to go on the run I had planned when I noticed a box sitting on my bed.

It definitely wasn't something I had left there. I walked over to my bed and read the mailing address. Sure enough, it said Sadie Davis and was addressed to this dorm. Who on earth would be sending Sadie Davis a package? I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through the tape. My heart was stammering in my chest as I lifted up the cardboard flaps. There was a card with tissue paper underneath. I lifted up the card. Instead of my name on the envelope, "Turn that frown upside down," was scrawled along the front.

Tears bit at the corners of my eyes. It was the same thing my dad always used to say to me when I was upset. No one knew about that. At least, no one still living. Had I told Mr. Crawford that? I remembered being with him for days, but I barely said a word. I was terrified and exhausted. He didn't know. I had this brief sense of hope. Was it possible that my father could still be alive? I shook away the fleeting thought. No. I remembered the devastation I felt at their funeral. I remembered it like it was yesterday. I remembered their coffins and that feeling of ice in my veins. My parents were long gone. There must have been someone else who knew about my dad saying that. A family friend I wasn't aware of? Or maybe it was a coincidence. It was a well known phrase and I was certain I had been frowning a lot recently.

The vigilante. He had been watching me. He saw my frowns. Surely he could see that I had been upset recently. That had to be it. He seemed to know me. Maybe he knew me even better than I realized. It felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. Did he know me when I was young? Had he known my parents? I had this sudden spark of hope. Maybe he was trying to tell me something.

I tore the card out of the envelope. There was no picture, just a plain, pristine white card. I lifted up the top and my hands started shaking. There was just one line inside. "Let the games begin, Sadie." My name was in quotes. I threw the note back on top of the tissue paper.

I couldn't seem to make my hands stop shaking, no matter how hard I tried to steady them. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Who the hell was it from? I realized I was pacing in my small dorm room, but I couldn't seem to stop. I also couldn't seem to make myself lift up the tissue paper, because I was terrified that I knew who had sent it. Don.

All week I had this eerie sense that he was getting closer. It was like this ache in my bones. He was here. He was in fucking New York! And he knew my identity. He had found me.

No. He didn't know. He didn't know about my parents. I was going crazy. I never told Don a thing about my past. He never asked. He never ever asked. I pictured him putting his hand over my mouth. I couldn't swallow down the lump in my throat. I scratched at my neck, trying to rid the invisible hands from me. I'm losing my mind.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Turn that frown upside down. I could hear my father's voice. I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I couldn't smile through this. But I could put on a brave face. That's what that saying truly meant. Mask your true emotions.

I slowly lifted up the tissue paper. Blood. I stared down at the small bunny slippers. My bunny slippers. There were covered in blood. There was so much fucking blood.

I put my hand over my mouth. Whose blood was that? I had left my slippers in my yard. I remember kicking them off so that I could run faster. There was no blood. I wrapped my arms around my stomach again. I remembered grass stains, but definitely no blood.

More memories started flooding into my mind. I remembered begging my grandmother to take me to the spot where my parents' car had crashed. It wasn't like the movies at all. It was an accident, so there was no investigation, or caution tape, or officers asking question. I had been on the street a million times on the bus to school. There was only one difference. The pavement was stained with my parents' blood.

No.

I remembered Don putting the knife to my stomach. I'd never forget the rage on his face. I remembered biting down on his fingers as the knife sliced into my skin. I tasted blood. My mouth had been filled with his blood. And I remembered looking down at my stomach as he threw me to the floor. My blood. There was so much blood. I felt nauseous.

No.

How was this a game? Don had already stolen my freedom. I put my hand on my forehead. Did he want my sanity too? I couldn't let him take the only thing I had left.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I was doing the right thing as I grabbed my new phone. I clicked on Mr. Crawford's name and pulled it to my ear. It went straight to voicemail.

Damn it! I called again and again and again. How could he not answer?! I needed him.

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