Page 1 of True Abandon

PROLOGUE

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can see him.

“Are you ready for this? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I want it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you.”

Those warm, caramel-colored eyes. His wavy, brown hair falling in front of his face as he looks down at me. He is the most beautiful boy I’ve ever laid eyes on. And he’s gazing at me like he feels the same way.

“Do you feel how fast my heart is beating? That’s because of you. You’re my heart.”

“You’re my soul. You’re a part of me. Forever.”

I feel his skin as it brushes up against mine. His mouth feathers kisses on my neck. Hands caress me gently; he takes his time knowing how scared I am.

“Thank you for letting me be your first.”

“Promise you’ll be my last.”

“Always.”

I reach up to brush a hair from his forehead. He leans down and kisses me softly.

“I love you, Triciana.”

“I love you, too, Jackson.”

And, then, the dream becomes a nightmare.

“Are you filming this?”

The voice sounds from the background. A camera appears, and it’s pointed in my direction. When I turn back to Jackson, I no longer see him, but the faces of strangers—pointing, laughing, staring at my body.

My hearts races. Sweat pours down my hairline and past my jaw. I want to run, but my feet are numb. Tied to the bed without ropes, invisible chains bind my limbs. Regardless of how I try to move, my body remains paralyzed.

To the left, girls hiss and snicker in disgust.

“What a slut. Letting a guy make a porno of her. It’s like she wants the attention.”

I try to scream. Tell them the video wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know he was going to share it. But I can’t. I open my mouth. The words won’t come out.

“I heard she has videos with the whole football team.”

“Did you see the way she went down on him? Yeah, right, she was a virgin.”

To the right, a group of men leer at me.

“Who’s the sweet, little blonde? So young and innocent. Maybe I can get a turn.”

I pull on the invisible binding. The need to run is so urgent, I panic.

“What will your daddy think now, Little Princess? We always knew you were trash.”

Suddenly, the scene changes. I’m at my high school. In the middle of the football field. Everyone is approaching me. Hundreds—no thousands of students and people from our town; strangers who saw the video on the Internet. Everyone is crowding me. They rush in to take their turn slinging painful insults.

“Whore.”

“Skank.”