Page 98 of A Tragic Melody

“I’ll be fine. I can post bail tomorrow and I’ll take it from there. They will probably offer me a deal. I’ll get another stint in rehab and a few months of probation. It will suck, but I’ll survive.”

“Let me help.”

“Help yourself first, okay? I’ll pay you back for the lawyer when I can, but for now, just take care of yourself. I can handle my own shit.”

“Why did you…”

“I don’t know, Tues. I don’t know, but I got to go. I’ll see you around.”

“Wyatt—” I start, but the line goes dead.

The bus driver eventually starts heading to the next venue. Nothing I said could convince him to stay put. Apparently, he was told to deliver us to the next show, or get fired. It’s bad enough he’s the reason we got pulled over, but now he isn’t even listening to me.

We get there in the middle of the night, and I feel the dread sink in. Hendricks will now know where to find me. He has my exact location. I’m not sure what will happen when he shows up, because I’ve never talked back to him like this before. I’ve never stood up to any of the people who’ve used me until now.

My body doesn’t know what to do since it’s been hours since I put any drugs in it. The urge to call my dealer for a delivery is strong, especially since my mind won’t stop running wild with thoughts I rather not think about, but I don’t call him.

I don’t want to risk getting Wyatt in more trouble.

My body shakes, dripping so much sweat I feel like I’m a puddle. I’m thirsty, despite how much water I pump in my body. I can’t keep up with the amount of liquid I’m losing through sweat and puking.

I’ve thrown up twice. Bile and water, as I can’t even think about eating right now. My whole body aches. My head is a mess, and I have no idea how I’m going to get through this next show.

“How are you doing?” Quinn asks, poking his head in my bunk where I’ve been napping on and off. Dreams take me back to times I’ve tried so hard to forget. Memories replay despite my internal protest. I can’t keep them from flooding my mind. “Hungry?”

I shake my head, covering my mouth to keep from puking again.

“You need anything?”

“No. Thanks. Just let me die.”

“You know I can’t do that.” He pushes some hair out of my face. “And for the record, I don’t want to fuck you.”

“No?” I try to grin.

“It’s not like that with us, Tuesday. I care about you, but not like that. You’re like my sister.”

“Yeah. I know.” I sigh. “If I die, thank you for always taking care of me.”

“Of course.” He smiles down at me. “But try not to die, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Mom?” I question.

“Just do it, honey,” she says. “Open your mouth and let him see how good it is.”

I’m ten. My light blonde hair is dry on the ends from how often she touches it up. A man in a dark suit with big sunglasses on stands in front of me, stroking his cock.

“But…”

“Open up, little girl. Let me feel your talent.”

I know I have no choice, so I open my mouth.

“Look at you.” A deep voice wakes me from my nightmares. “A beautiful fucking wreck.” My eyes snap open to see Hendricks standing outside my bunk. His arm wraps around my throat, squeezing and robbing me of the ability to breathe. My hand lifts, trying to pry his hand from my neck. “Not your drugs, huh? You couldn’t stop at being a fucking whore? Had to be a druggie, too?”

His grip on my throat loosens as he takes to pinning me to the bunk. I suck in a sharp breath as fear courses through my body. He won’t kill me, at least I don’t think. Not now, not himself, but he could do far worse things to me. Things that might make me wish I was dead.