My heart skips a beat, but I do it.
Raising my eyes, I look at her. Her hood is off, her dark brown hair hanging down her back and over her chest where it spills out of the cap, and I see a trail of blood ru
There was blood on the mirror, though. It must be on her clothes.
She moves toward me slowly. “You need me, I don’t need you,” she states. “You have everything to lose, I have nothing. I’ll be in prison in two years anyway, right?” She cocks her head at me. “Or dead?”
“Or pregnant,” I add.
But I want the words back as soon as they’re out. I…
I close my mouth as Dylan shifts off to my left, the room so quiet I can hear the town clock chime through the cement walls, one level up, and two blocks south.
She doesn’t say anything, only tips her chin higher as she holds my eyes, but I want to look anywhere but at her. “I didn’t mean that,” I murmur.
“No, no…” She stops me. “Stick to the narrative. It makes all of this so much easier.”
I narrow my eyes, tearing them away. I’m not letting her turn this around on me. Poverty is no excuse to do the things she or any of her pals do. She can make her own opportunity. My dad did.
“Open the door,” she says again.
I hold still.