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I stare at the reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the girl I see. The fancy dress, the shoes, the hair, none of it’s me. But take that away and I still don't recognize myself.
Who am I?
I don’t know.
If I don't know then no one does.
I glare at the girl in the mirror, hating her. The hate consumes me and I watch helplessly as my fist flies out, connecting with the glass. It shatters around me, crumbling to the ground just like my life.
Pain radiates from my hand up my arm. I look down and all I see is blood and all I feel is pain. For a moment I’m reminded that I’m alive and I welcome the pain. But it’s not enough. It won't be long until the numbness consumes me, swallowing me whole.
It’s all I know.
It’s all I am.
A shell.
A ghost.
I don't exist.
I used to be okay with that, but I don't know if I am anymore, and that’s what scares me the most.
chapter one
“Hey,” my best friend Tatum poked my side. “Hey,” she hissed a little bit louder. When I still ignored her, she exclaimed, “HEY!”
“Shhhh!” Hushed a guy with his nose buried in a textbook.
“What?” I glared at her, mad that she was disturbing the peace in the library. I mean, honestly, I thought she could at least respect the obvious need to stay quiet in the library. Apparently not.
“Over there,” she nodded her head at something over my shoulder, “is Trenton Wentworth, and his eyes are all over you,” she whispered, smiling excitedly. I wasn’t surprised she knew who Trent was, in this town the Wentworth’s were practically famous—with the kind of wealth they had it was surprising that they still lived in this small town.
“What?” This time I gasped the word. “No.” Her words had poured a bucket of ice-cold water on me. It was like I couldn’t escape the guy. No matter where I hid he always popped up.
I refused to turn and look, but I felt his eyes boring into my back. Those blue eyes had once twisted my stomach into knots and with one bat of his lashes I would’ve come running. Even girls like me weren’t immune to the charms of a guy like Trent.
“I have to go,” I stood hastily, grabbing my books, and pushing my glasses further up my nose. I didn’t care if I had two more hours worth of studying to do and would never be able to finish it at home. My desperation to get away from Trent was more powerful than my need to study…and that was saying something.
I stumbled around the chair and Tatum watched me with a dumbfounded expression. The chair I bumped into crashed to the floor. “Sorry,” I mumbled, not bothering to stop and pick it up.
I had never told anyone about that night.
The night I gave into my desires.
The night I let Trent take a piece of me.
The night I ran from him.
The night my life was irrevocably changed.
I bumbled towards the exit and in my haste one of my books slid from my arms, landing on the floor. I was tempted to leave it, glaring at the treacherous book, but a tan hand was already snaking out and picking it up. The person placed it back on the stack in my arms and I swallowed thickly, refusing to look up. I felt his stare and I knew it was Trent standing before me. Slowly, I looked up and my hazel eyes connected with his. Looking at him was like taking a punch to the gut—leaving me breathless with a pain I couldn’t understand.
“Rowan,” he beamed, and the way he said my name made me squirm…and not in bad way. But oh how I wished I didn’t enjoy hearing my name leave his kissable lips.
I tucked a piece of light brown hair behind my ear. “Trenton,” I stared at his shoes. They were black motorcycle boots with heavy silver buckles. I wondered if they were real motorcycle boots or designer ones just for show.
“My face is up here,” he said in that deep husky voice with a slight chuckle.
