

# Pulled

## Book 1: The First Flame

### By

### Danielle Bannister

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright @ Smashwords Edition 2016

January 2016 by Danielle Bannister

Originally published in September 2011

All rights reserved

Bannister Books

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this novel, write to:

daniellebannisterbooks@gmail.com

Pulled: a novel about Twin Flames.

Cover Design by MJC Imageworks

mjcimageworks.com

ISBN-13: 978-1456493127 ISBN-10: 1456493124 BISAC: Fiction / Romance / Suspense

# Table of Contents

#

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Author Bio

Sneak peek of Pulled Back

Sneak Peek of The ABC's of Dee

Connect with the Author

Acknowledgments:

My humble thanks to my beta readers Kari Suderley, Maret Knight, Sonia Vazquez, Carissa Kauwell and my mother, Sharon Estes.

My only love sprung from my only hate!

Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Prodigious birth of love it is to me

That I must love a loathèd enemy.

Romeo & Juliet Act 1, scene 5

#  Chapter 1

Naya

My heart is fluttering as I walk toward the brick building that will house the majority of my four years of college: Stanley Hall. Even though I've seen the building a million times online, seeing it in-person leaves me breathless. I actually have to stop in mid-stride to take in its beauty. The worn red brick coupled with crisp New England charm make the theatre complex nothing short of intimidating.

Tucking a stray strand of my too-straight, too-black hair behind my ear, I take a nerve calming sip of my coffee and march toward the door, determined to not let my fear of not measuring up get the best of me.

"You made me give up Florida State for this?" a voice whispers in my ear.

I just about jump out of my skin. "Seth! You scared me!" I scream, punching him lightly on the arm.

"You know it's not nice to hit," he says, pleased with himself.

"Sorry. I'm just a little...intimidated at the moment," I say, tucking that same damn strand of hair behind my ear again.

Seth just laughs at me. He takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him. "Hey, remember what my dad says. 'Never let them see you sweat,'" he says before he pulls me in close to his chest.

"Right," I say, putting on a brave face. Seth hates to see weakness in people. Especially in me. "I should go."

I push him away gently and turn toward the theatre and take my first tentative steps before I am struck by a thought. I turn around and find Seth still there, smirking at me.

"What are you doing here anyway? You don't have any classes today."

"I know," he grins. "I just wanted to see my girl before her first class."

Or check up on me, I can't help but think, but I smile because a smile is what he expects.

"You'll meet me for lunch and tell me all about it," he says, before he presses his cool lips to mine. I nod in understanding before he lets my hand go.

I watch him disappear down the hill toward his dorm before I turn back to my face my current nemesis.

Here goes nothing.

As soon as I walk into the building, any courage I had managed to build up disappears and I am overcome with childish jitters. Nervously, I pull out my schedule, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, to look again at the room number of my first class: 111. Honestly, Naya, how hard is that to remember?

Casually glancing up at the doors as I walk past, I notice that the numbers are climbing up; I'm heading in the right direction. When I round the corner at the end of the hallway, I find it. 'Movement for the Actor.' Butterflies fill my stomach. Squaring my shoulders, I steady myself and walk through the door.

A quick survey of the room reveals nothing overtly intimidating. It's just a large, open space. In the corner, there is an area set up with chairs and a movable whiteboard. Along the back wall are his and her bathrooms. The opposite side of the room is lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Aside from that, the room is completely empty.

Great. Not only am I a freshman with no friends (because let's face it, boyfriends shouldn't count), I am also that girl: the one who is always early, eager, and ready to learn.

Dragging my much-too-prompt feet toward the chairs, I plop down in the back row and pull out my tattered copy of Romeo & Juliet from my backpack to create the illusion of being 'otherwise engaged.' It's my favorite play, and not because of their ridiculous, unrealistic love affair. It's Shakespeare's use of poetic irony that is simply priceless: just when you find Mr. Right, death comes knocking. It's perfect. But then maybe, just maybe, I'm a little bitter and the subjects of love and death are still too raw for me. Maybe.

Opening to where I had dog-eared my page, I settle deeper into my chair. I'm just about to dive into Act Two when he walks in.

Etash

I'm already awake when the sun comes up, but I'm too annoyed to get out of bed; I hate first days.

When I'm finally able to talk myself into a shower, I debate briefly whether to shave the beard I've been trying to grow all summer, or keep it. Screw it. I'm shaving it. The damn thing never grew in where I needed it to anyway.

I'm hopeful that this year will be easier since most of the student body got their 'grand reveal' last year, it'll only be the freshman I'll have to try hiding from until they've managed to sneak a peek. Thankfully, after a few weeks, they too, will ignore me and then I'll be able to breathe and be myself again.

Pulling into the almost empty lot, I turn off the engine of my '89 VW, yank out my schedule and shake my head. Acting. Although I can understand the rationale for having to take acting classes as part of my directing major, I'm still not happy about it. This face needs to be offstage, not on it.

The only thing that will make this class bearable will be Professor Williams. As a former Broadway star, he knows his stuff. I was able to stage manage for one of his shows last year, so he and I get along nicely. I do as he asks and he keeps his eyes off of me. A perfect working relationship.

Checking the clock on the dashboard, I note that I'm 20 minutes early. Right on time. Being early is one of my few indulgences; it allows me just enough time to find a seat without a ton of eyes watching my every move and whispering remarks behind my back.

So when I open the door to class, I am extremely annoyed to find that another student has beaten me there—forcing me to walk past her and her predictable stare.

Naya

There is nothing unusual about how he enters the room unless you notice his dark eyes glued to the floor, which I do.

I am instantly struck by how uncomfortable he seems to be. His shoulders are slumped so low that it looks like he's trying to crawl inside his shirt. He grabs a seat in the front of the room, diagonally from where I sit, his left side facing the wall.

Needing something to do with my hands, I push up the sleeves of my deep plum V-neck. The dark color does nothing to hide my overt paleness, but I haven't worn light colors since... well, a long time.

Several minutes pass and we remain the only two in the room. I feel like I should introduce myself, or at least, say 'hi,' but there is something about the way he sits in his chair that makes me hold my tongue. It's as though he's willing himself to blend in with the room and not be noticed. I can respect that; I want the same thing.

Picking up my book again, I try to move my eyes back to the page, but no matter how hard I try, they disobey me. They stay transfixed to the back of his dark, curly hair; mesmerized.

Perhaps it's because I have never seen someone with his exact coloring before. It isn't tan. No, definitely not tan, but more, what, olive? Is he Asian? No. Middle-Eastern? Indian?

I want desperately for him to turn his head, just a little, so I can get a glimpse of this person from whom I can't manage to pull my gaze. But he holds his focus on a book he's drumming his thumb on. Curious to know what he's reading, my eyes allow a quick move towards the cover. It looks familiar – really familiar. No way. He's reading Romeo & Juliet too. I actually laugh out loud. No, laugh is too polite a word. I guffawed. His dark eyes turn over his shoulder, ever so slightly, to glare at me. The girl who is openly laughing at him. Shit.

My mouth hangs open as I try to come up with an apology for my overt rudeness, but the second our eyes meet, I feel a sudden liquid-hot jolt run through me which causes me to flinch. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see him do the same, but he doesn't acknowledge it. He just keeps his dark, piercing eyes focused on me, waiting for an explanation for my outburst.

"Ah, we seem to be reading the same thing," I blurt out, holding up my copy.

"So it would seem." He continues his over-the-shoulder stare for a long moment as though trying to figure out some great mystery.

The sound of the door opening breaks the spell and I'm able to look away from him. Alarmed by the blush that is creeping onto my face, I bury my head in my book.

I force myself to focus on the words printed on the page, to breathe in and out and forget about the boy with the dark eyes. Slowly, I begin losing myself in the world of Capulets and Montagues. But even The Bard can't keep my attention held for more than a few minutes. The desire to sneak another peak at the dark boy is too strong.

Lowering my book a fraction of an inch, I chance a glance up, unable to resist any longer. Thankfully, his eyes are safely focused on the professor that I didn't notice come in. In fact, there are quite a few new additions to the room. Looking around the once empty space, I find that it is now almost full. When did that happen?

Nearly all of the chairs have been taken; save for the row I am sitting in. Apparently the back of the class is not the place to sit in an acting class. Who knew?

"Good morning everyone. I am Professor Williams and this is Movement for Actors. And for the record, I'm no more thrilled with this 9:00 am slot than any of you are," he says, taking a sip of his coffee for emphasis.

He is dressed casually; dark corduroys paired with a light sweater and light brown sports coat. Only the worn cowboy boots seem out of place.

Professor Williams scans the room briefly, getting a feel for his newest crop when his eyes stop on mine.

"You, in the back, what's your name?" he asks.

I clear my throat, finding it very hard to speak at the moment.

"Naya. Naya Adams," I manage to croak out.

As I look back down to my chair, I notice all eyes in the class are on me; all of them.

"Well, Ms. Adams, why don't you join the rest of the class? You seem so far away from me back there." He motions for me to come down closer. "There's a seat right here, down in front."

A seat right next to him.

Of course.

Cursing under my breath, I make my way to the front of the room. It is at that moment, the moment I settle my weight into the chair, that I feel it; the full dose of what had only been hinted at earlier.

The tiny hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up on end. A crushing pressure is building inside me making it feel like my insides are about to collapse in on themselves. But this pressure...it's not like a force of gravity pulling me down to Earth. This seems to defy gravity and instead pulls me sideways, toward him.

My heartbeat quickens and my hands ball into fists trying to control the light trembling that has begun there. With great concentration, I'm able to turn my head just enough to see his hands in the exact same position as mine. What the hell is going on?

"We've just met Naya," Professor Williams' voice manages to register in some faraway corner of my mind, "Why don't we go around the room briefly and introduce ourselves?"

Turning my head back to my hands, the pressure decreases by the smallest of increments. I'm now able to make out the other students' voices as they start rattling off their names, where they are from and such, but I can't seem to actually register what they are saying. Only one name is allowed in.

"Etash."

Etash

Now that she's sitting right next to me, I'm somehow hyper-aware of everything about her. The ram-rod way her back is pressed against her chair, the sound of a fluttering wildly in her chest, her midnight black hair moving gently across her shoulders. But it's her scent that's killing me. It's wafting off her snowy white skin, overwhelming my other senses. And it's more than the obvious stuff too, like the coffee she's had or the smell of her shampoo, but harder to pick up stuff. I can clearly make out her subtle hint of peppermint toothpaste, lavender smoothed across her pale arms; even the waxiness of lip-balm.

All of those smells combined are easily ignored compared to the one that's taken hostage of her clothing. This lone scent causes my nostrils to flare and clench my teeth together dangerously hard. Men's cologne. Inexplicably, I am suddenly furious with whoever was close enough to place his rank scent on her: on my Naya.

Whoa. Wait. 'My Naya?' I don't even know this girl!

Desperately needing to get a grip, I bring my focus back to my hands, which are still pulled together so tight that it's starting to hurt. They won't come apart no matter how hard I try, so I press them under my arms to try and pry them open against my rib cage. I've almost got one of my fingers free when I see her getting to her feet. She's being pulled up to the front of the class by a tall brunette.

As soon as she's on her feet, it washes over me. A sensation so strong that it feels like a hundred hands on me, all pulling me in the same direction: toward her. Confused, I push back against the mounting pressure and manage to keep my butt firmly planted in my chair, for the moment anyway.

Once she's several feet away from me, however, the sensation lessens, allowing me to relax my body enough to release my fists. They ache from the strain of being held prisoner for so long.

Although physically no longer chained to her, my eyes haven't gotten the memo; they never leave her. I literally can not stop myself from watching her every move. She is simply too mesmerizing to stop. Her jet-black hair is like liquid lava as it falls down her back and against her beautifully soft, ivory skin. And her face—her face is so fresh and clean, void of the harsh make-up worn by most of her peers, making her, even more, stunning to look at. It strikes me that because of her natural look, some might call her plain. Just the errant thought of someone even thinking about her as less than perfect, makes me feel utterly and irrationally hostile.

Naya

I can feel his eyes on me as I try desperately to follow the professor's instructions. My head is screaming at me to turn around and march back to my seat—back to him, but I'm refusing to listen.

Forcing my body into the positions Professor Williams gives us, I deliberately avoid eye contact with anyone. _Just focus on the movements, Naya._ Arms over head, right knee up, and twist. _Ow_. Other side. Good.

After leading us through Salute to the Sun, a yoga pose I thankfully already knew, Professor Williams excuses us and asks for a few more volunteers. Etash, mercifully, jumps out of his seat before I can approach him and joins the next group and stands in profile.

Rolling up his sleeves as he moves forward he exposes more of his glorious, glowing skin. Looking at the dark curls on the back of his head, it dawns on me that I haven't really seen his whole face yet, noting how careful he has been to keep his face hidden. Carefully, I steady my focus on the top of his head. Not wanting to risk looking in his eyes again, I skip past them, remembering their blackness from when he came in. Moving to safer territory, I take in his nose, which is straight and thin. His jaw is slightly chiseled, showing off amazing cheekbones. His lips are a bit smaller than my full lips, but far from thin. And those curls! Dark and lush, hugging every contour of the right side of his face.

I can't help but notice that Etash is the exact opposite of Seth with his surfer-blond hair and pale blue eyes.

That's when it happens. He turns his face with the movements and I see what he has been so carefully hiding from everyone since the moment he walked into the class: a long, painful and angry looking scar runs from the corner of his left eye and down past his jaw line before it disappears under his shirt.

Seeing his beautiful face mutilated, my heart lets out an involuntary cry knowing it must have once caused him extreme pain. I'm overcome with irrational fury toward whoever caused it.

You would think that his scar would make him less attractive. But it doesn't. In fact, it does just the opposite. He is positively stunning.

Unfortunately, my peers don't seem to agree with my assessment. Listening to their hushed whispers as they stare at him makes me want to turn around and pummel them all.

Whoa! Naya, chill out! You don't even know this guy!

Needing to play it safe, I keep myself as far away from Etash as possible. Which thankfully, Professor Williams makes easy by keeping us on our feet for the remainder of the class, so I just counter every move Etash makes while he seems to do the same.

When class finally ends, I'm surprised to find that my heart skips a beat watching him disappear off the floor with a herd of other students. I deliberately stay put, chatting nervously with the tall brunette who pulled me onto the floor earlier. I think she said her name was Kari, but I'm not even sure who I am at this point. Although I want to give this girl my undivided attention, I can't help but stare at Etash as he storms out of the room, my entire body mourning at his departure.

Etash

My next two classes, directing and lighting, pass in a daze, which is extremely frustrating. Normally these would be classes that I would be excited about, but all I can think about is that stupid girl. It's not like me to think about girls like this, period. Thinking about her, or any other girl in any way other than a platonic relationship will only lead to my heart getting trampled on.

But I can't help myself! Her face is there, burned into my retinas, every time I close my eyes. My stomach is twisting itself into knots just thinking about her. By the time I meet with Elizabeth Campbell, the director I'm working with for the fall show, I am a wreck.

"Yikes. What train just hit you?" she asks, pulling her purple glasses off, resting them on her head.

I flop down into the chair in front of her desk, tossing my bag hard onto the other one.

"I don't want to talk about it," I hiss at her with more venom than she is owed. She looks at me wide-eyed, then purses her thin lips into a hard line.

"Fine. I didn't want to hear it anyway," she replies quickly retrieving her glasses again. I can tell she has been stung.

I'm a prick.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I've just got a lot on my mind right now."

She smiles at me, letting me off the hook. She's cool like that.

"Well, you're about to have a lot more on your mind" She slides over a flier with the audition notice. The words 'come prepared to move' are highlighted in yellow.

"You sure you still want to do this show without words?" I ask, shaking my head at her and her crazy ideas. "It's not too late, you know."

She glares at me and grabs the flier out of my hands.

"Yes, I'm sure. With our combined dance skills, this show is going to blow people's minds." She sits back in her oversized office chair that practically swallows her small frame and smiles. "That's why I hand-picked you to be my Assistant Director, you know? You really are an amazing dancer."

"And here I thought it was because of my boyish good looks," I snort.

She leans across her desk, all traces of amusement disappearing from her face.

"Why aren't you a dance major?" she asks. "Not that you aren't going to be a wonderful director, you are. But dancing is where your heart is. Even an old lady like me can see that."

Such a stupid question. I turn the left side of my face to her and point. "This is why I'm not a dancer," I hiss.

She starts blathering something about how I'm always hiding behind my scar. Blah, blah, blah. I've heard it all before from too many people. I'm not about to take it from her too.

Frustrated, I lie and say I'm late for my shift at the bookstore. I leave before I have to see the pity seep into her eyes.

Back at my apartment, I pull a veggie burrito out of the freezer, toss it in the microwave, grab a water from the fridge and flop down on the couch, trying my best not to think. I take my time eating, concentrating very deliberately on each bite, ignoring the fact that Naya's face keeps popping into my head every time I close my eyes.

I take my time washing my one cup from this morning, spending a good five minutes filling the sink and squirting on the liquid until it forms a foamy hill. After it's been thoroughly dried and put away, I look around my empty apartment and feel absolutely alone.

Needing a distraction, I take out my script and start pouring over the pages of notes Elizabeth and I have worked on during the summer.

She got her insane idea for the show last year when she flew to Chicago to visit her sister. At a little no-name theatre there she saw a production of Anton Chekhov's The Seagull done without words, just music and movement—and she was sold. All thoughts of doing the fall show straight were abandoned from that point on. She called me the second she got back into town and asked me to be her assistant director.

Elizabeth is one of a handful of people who know that I can dance. For obvious reasons, I dance only in private. For most of my freshman year, I had managed to go unnoticed; until last spring. It was semester break and the campus was deserted, so it should have been a safe time to dance, but Elizabeth had had the same idea, bursting into the same studio I was in. She apologized for intruding but asked if we might share the space. I was about to politely decline when she put on some Celtic music I'd never heard before. The tracks were so haunting and full of sorrow and loss that I couldn't stop myself. For some reason, I was comfortable with Elizabeth. She never once diverted her eyes when looking at me. It was surprisingly refreshing.

From then on, we would meet during semester breaks to dance, each bringing in music the other had never heard. As a result of those times, we became close. In fact, this summer, she even invited me to dinner with her and her husband, a jazz musician, at their beach house.

It was the type of house I would love to have. Although it was small, just one bedroom, it was perfect. The best part about it were the walls. Every square inch was covered with family photos in mismatched frames. Snapshots of weddings, reunions, smiling little children and couples who looked too perfect to be real. I remembered thinking that the pictures were a testament to the idealistic life they had led. And I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

"Your family must love coming here to spend time with the two of you," I had said, looking at one frame with a small child and a dog running in the sand.

She smiled a sad smile and took a small sip of her wine.

"They would. If I had any."

"Oh, but I thought...well, all the pictures on the wall..."

Elizabeth sighed. "They came with the frames. The house felt empty before I put them up." She got up and slipped outside and stood with her feet buried in the sand.

We never spoke of that moment again, but I understood then that we had a common hurt. Each of us longing for something we could never have.

# Chapter 2

Naya

Dreamless sleep; a luxury not often afforded me. I wake up feeling refreshed and refueled, not worried in the least about the sun's position in the sky indicating it is already late morning. Fortunately for my alarm clock, its death is not imminent for failing to go off, because my first and only class of the day doesn't start until 2:00 pm. Only day two and I already love college.

Since Tuesdays are pretty full for Seth, it means that until dinner, I will be on my own. But it's not like I don't have anything to do. I already have a pile of homework waiting for me as soon as I buy my books, thanks to my Drama Lit Professor's daunting reading assignments.

After showering, I resolve to make the most of my late morning to check out the library and bookstore before my stage make-up class this afternoon.

Slipping on some jeans, a T-shirt and hoodie, I down a raspberry pop-tart and give myself a quick check in the mirror. Ugh. My hair is hopeless. Brushing it back, I pull on a headband in a feeble attempt to give it some life.

As I put some Chapstick on, my mind starts wandering, and I'm ashamed to admit that I find it in dangerous territory. I shudder, trying to shove Etash's image from my mind. I'm thankful that I won't have to see him until tomorrow. Maybe by then, I'll have a grip on myself because right now, I have bigger things to think about—much bigger. Like what I am going to tell Seth about our conversation last night.

'The talk' had started innocently enough with us playing a few rounds of boxing on Seth's Wii while he downed a few illegally-purchased beers. I was so bad at anything physical that it was actually comical, but I endured the embarrassment because I knew he enjoyed it. He had given up so much for me by enrolling here instead of going off to Florida State. I feel obligated to give him as much as I can, however trivial.

It was after the third round of boxing when he finally turned it off, sensing my strained interest. He grinned at me devilishly, then threw me on his roommate's couch.

"Ow!" I groaned, as my head hit the armrest and his body crashed into mine.

"Don't be such a wuss," he said pulling his weight off me slightly. His lips curved into a smile and his eyes narrowed. I knew that look and braced myself for his kiss, but he surprised me. He sat up slowly and looked down at the floor. I sat up too.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He looked momentarily lost in thought, spinning his empty beer can in his hand.

"Nothing is wrong, well, not really." He put the can down and started rubbing his hands together.

"You're scaring me," I whispered. Oh God, please tell me he's not going to break up with me. I know I'm a head-case, but I can't be alone. I just can't.

"Don't be scared, stupid, I just...I just wanted to talk to you about something." I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued before I could. "We've been together for almost two years now, right?"

"Yeah," I said slowly.

"And in that two years, we've stayed in the same damn place."

"What place is that?" I wonder out loud, hoping he wasn't thinking what I thought he was thinking.

"Abstinence Alley," he said, glaring at me. Ah, that place. "I get that you were shaken up after your parents died, and all, but shit, Naya, that was a long time ago."

Not that long ago. I couldn't seem to form any words so he kept going.

"Two years is too long to wait for someone," he said.

This was it. He was going to break it off.

"You're mine, Naya," he continued. "I've picked the day it's going to happen." A slow smile spread across his face. "I'm not going to tell you when. I want it to be a surprise."

"Oh," I croaked. Although he didn't say it, he was giving me an ultimatum. Have sex with him or get lost. Didn't he get it? Didn't he understand? Didn't he realize how broken I still was? Didn't he know that I would never be ready for such intimacy? But then, if I refused him, I would really be alone. And that just wasn't an option.

What I was going to do when the 'surprise' finally came consumes me for the entire walk to the library. It's all I can do to keep one foot moving ahead of the other one. I pray that the distraction of the library will help ease my worries.

As I walk down the stairs into the library, however, I find my body is suddenly moving on its own accord, pulling me forward. The hair on my neck and arms start to stand at attention, causing my heart to begin sprinting. No, not again. My eyes begin searching frantically around the library for the one and only cause of this inexplicable hysteria.

Etash

I know I'm a complete and utter loser to confess this: but I love libraries. The smell, the silence, and the piles of knowledge just waiting to be consumed. Reading gives me a rush that I've only ever felt when dancing.

Exchanging polite nods with the library staff who have grown accustomed to my visits, I head straight to the directing section at the back. Because this is a Performance Arts school, the Direction selection is, understandably, immense. It's my goal to read every single one before I graduate.

I grab the next book in my queue, Direction for the Directionless, and flip open to the audition section. Since we're holding auditions tonight, it seems like a good idea to brush up on some techniques, even if I won't be the one leading them.

As soon as I crack the book open, however, I'm transfixed. I shut my eyes tightly hoping to ignore it: the pull. It comes on so fast it causes me to jump and I end up tossing the book right out of my hands. I don't hear it land, though, because all I can hear now is her. Her heart beating wildly, the soft moan that escapes her lips, her breath coming in rapid succession in time with my own.

When I'm finally able to open my eyes again, she's there, only a few feet away from me. Just the sight of her causes my body to lunge forward. I have to grab onto the bookcase to anchor myself in place.

Her scent washes over me, lavender and mint. The cologne is still there but it doesn't reek as strong today. His subtle scent still infuriates me.

"What are you doing to me?" I hiss at her, instantly regretting taking my hostility out on her. 24

Naya

What? He thinks I'm doing this to him? He's the one messing with me! I try to open my mouth to defend myself, but my lips won't form the words. All I can do is stare. It's surreal, looking at him. It's as though I've been gazing into his eyes for all eternity.

It's only when I feel a hand on my shoulder that I even blink.

"Naya?" Although I can't move my eyes to see her, I know that it's Kari, from acting class. I know it's rude not to answer her, but words are failing me.

"Are you two okay?" She asks, waving her hand in front of my eyes to get my attention. It is only an instant, but our gaze is interrupted by her hand, and it frees us both from our mutual spell.

Etash takes a few shaky steps back, never once lifting his eyes off the floor. He grabs his bag and thunders out the door.

"Um, what the hell was that?" Kari asks, her expression mixed between worry and amusement.

"I...I don't know," I stammer.

"Well whatever it was, it was smokin'!" She laughs, causing a librarian to shush us. Kari yanks me back onto one of the sofas in the corner.

"So, you and the kid with a scar, huh?"

My eyes bulge out of my head. "No. No, it's not like that. I have a boyfriend, "I blurt out.

"Not for long you won't. Not with the way you two were looking at each other," she grins smugly.

"What are you talking about? How was I looking at him?"

"Like you were about to rip his clothes off and throw him down to the floor! It was intense."

She waits for me to speak, but I can't. I can't even begin to register what she's just told me.

Kari nudges my shoulder. "Looks like someone has fallen hard."

"No," I insist. "It's not like that." She raises her eyebrows. "It's true! I don't even know him!"

"Didn't look that way to me." She stands up and throws her bag over her shoulder. "See ya tomorrow."

In a daze, I sit on the couch, replaying what just happened over and over again. What the hell was going on?

Eventually, I'm able to get off the couch and go through the motions of looking for books, but it's like I'm sleepwalking.

Before I know it, it's time for my make-up class. On auto-pilot, I shove a dollar bill into the vending machine, downing a raspberry Nutra-Grain bar in lieu of lunch, before I walk back to Stanley Hall.

Once I enter the building, my senses seem to return. But by the time I find the room I'm looking for in this maze of a building, the door is already closed. Great. I am officially late. I shift the weight of my bag before grabbing for the door. At the same time, a heavy-set woman in her late twenties, early thirties, grabs for the handle as well.

"You late too?" she asks.

"Yeah," I blush. "I got lost."

"Been there, done that." She gives me a kind smile before she swings the door open.

There is a quiet chatter inside, indicating class hasn't officially started yet. I manage to spy an empty seat close to the door and snag it. The woman I entered with doesn't sit down, but rather, walks to the front of the room and writes: 'Professor Krane,' on the board. She shoots me a quick wink before she starts handing out the syllabus.

Great first impression, Naya.

As she goes over the outline of the year, I make a quick scan of the space. It's small and filled with mirrored make-up stations along the walls. Under each mirror is a small desk. A dozen or so small lights frame each station. Cool. The chairs we're sitting in are clearly meant to go with each of the stations but are now angled toward the front of the room. I recognize a few of the faces from my other classes; their names, however, have escaped me.

Turning my attention back to the professor, I notice my arm—and all the hairs that have just puffed up on them. Oh no. At that exact moment, there comes a loud scraping sound of a chair sliding against the floor from a few feet behind me. I turn my head away from the sound and into one of the make-up mirrors trying to ignore the possibility of his being in another class with me. But the mirror provides no escape. In its reflection, I can see, quite clearly, who has made his chair scream. Etash is sitting four chairs back from me, a tortured look is on his face. His hands grasp the bottom of his chair in a death-grip.

"The make-up kits you'll need for this class are available at the bookstore, if you haven't gotten them yet," Professor Krane's voice floats from far away.

"Professor?" A large girl directly in front of me asks, "My kit didn't have any spirit gum in it. Does that mean we won't be doing any prosthetic work?"

Brown-noser. I don't catch Professor Krane's answer, though. My body is much too focused on the pair of dark eyes currently boring a hole into the back of my skull.

Unable to pull away from the mirror, I notice his frozen position. His back is pushed so far into his chair that I swear it might crack under the pressure. I try rubbing my arms hoping to will my stubborn hairs back in place without much success.

But something is different: the overwhelming pull from earlier seems absent now, and I wonder if my proximity to him is the key. _Hmm_ In acting class, I hadn't felt 'possessed' until I sat right next to him. And in the library, I was fine until I got a few feet away from him. _I wonder._

Etash

This is unbelievable! How is it possible that this girl is in every single class I'm in?

Granted, I should have taken Make-up, along with Acting last year, but I was busy helping Mom get Grams settled into the nursing home.

I can feel her eyes on me through the mirror. She's got her hair pulled back off her face today, showcasing more of her soft, ivory skin. Her lips part and she sighs, and I smell raspberry. She's been eating raspberry flavored something. How can I possibly know that?

I'm so blindly consumed by this foolish girl's every movement that I don't notice that there are people standing up all around me. It's too early for class to be over, so apparently we're going somewhere. I wait for her to stand and go in front of me, but she just sits there, frozen; stubborn fool.

Fine, if she won't move, I will. I'll just follow the line, keep my eyes off her and walk as fast as I can past her. Easy.

But the second I'm beside her, I find my legs won't budge. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her flinch. Grinding my teeth, I try desperately to move my feet.

After what feels like an eternity, they do, but not of my own will. Someone has bumped into me, presumably unaware that I had just stopped dead in my tracks. The guy behind me doesn't hit me hard, but it's enough to get me free from her apparent pull on me.

Once out the door, I jump to the head of the line, needing to keep as much distance between us as possible, ignoring the nagging ache in my stomach that gets stronger with each step I take away from her.

We head up the stairs to the Main Stage. As the freshmen 'oh' and 'ah' over the magnificence of the newly-renovated theatre, I manage to slide into a seat in the front row. Naya comes in last, her head bowed down, afraid to look at me. Good. Stay away from the freak.

"We'll be coming here a lot this semester," Professor Krane says, gesturing to the stage with her hands. "Putting make-up on yourselves or someone else under typical fluorescent lighting is one thing. Seeing how that same makeup looks under these lights," she says pointing up "is the real test of the art." She hops up onto the lip of the stage and sits.

"Today we're looking at your blank slate: your face without stage make-up." She jumps off the stage and puts her hands dramatically on her plump hips, grinning smugly. "You're each going to take turns standing in the light while those in the house take notes about the way you look under them."

"I don't get it," I hear from a student in the row in back of me.

"Everyone has imperfections," she continues, as though expecting the confusion. "The stage lights only magnify those. Sometimes we can't tell what areas show us in a 'less than favorable light,' so to speak, so our comments will serve to help you all with areas you'll need to focus on when applying make-up."

She wants us to publicly ridicule one another. _Wonderful_. I can't wait to hear what they have to say about me. No amount of make-up will ever hide my scars.

Professor Krane starts to hand out packets filled with pages and pages of nothing more than an empty outline of a generic looking face.

"As each of you comes up, I want you to say your name. For those of you who are seated, write down the person's name on stage. Then simply draw or comment on what you see about their face." She pauses to let the grumbling pass.

"Now, I know we're not all artists; that's not the point. Just draw the best you can, or simply write down your thoughts, but be as honest as you can." More uncomfortable whispers ensue.

"Although this project is totally anonymous," she cautions, "it doesn't give you free rein to hurt someone's feelings. That's not the point of this exercise. This is a tool meant to help you identify areas you need to work on as an actor. It's easy. I'll go first." She climbs back on stage again and stands in the light.

"My name is Professor Krane." No one does a thing. "Put my name down on one of your sheets and tell me what my flaws are," she insists. "Help me figure out what I need to work on."

Not a single pencil moves.

"Oh come on! Start with my huge nose." There's a lone chuckle in the darkness. "I know it's huge; now tell me about it so I can make it appear smaller using shadow and highlights."

Naya

One by one, students start to comply with her instructions, some tilting their heads slightly to get better views. A small, lanky girl volunteers to go first. Her skin is glaringly white, even whiter than mine if that's even possible, but she is otherwise a very normal-looking girl. Feverishly, others around me start scribbling down things that I know will only be construed as hurtful to this poor girl later on. I am unable to write anything down except, "maybe a dark ivory base would be best."

The brown-noser steps up to the stage, and a painfully thin freshman with a serious acne problem steps in line to go after her. The large girl announces proudly to the group that her name is Stephanie. Instantly, those around me get to work, but I just sit there. This girl is seriously heavy and I don't have it in me to put down anything even remotely hurtful about her. It just feels wrong. I can only manage to put down that she has "beautifully high cheekbones" that would be "enhanced with some well-applied shadow." And so it goes, face after face, lie after lie.

My heart flutters, however, when Etash stands in the light. It's clear that he is uncomfortable and once he lifts his head, anyone could have guessed why. The stage lights catch the curve of his scar, bouncing off it wildly like a giant prism.

I am heartbroken, sensing just how truly flawed he must feel in this sea of perfect faces. The light scratches of my classmates' pencils working fiercely on their pages makes my blood boil. I put my pencil down in protest.

Behind me, Professor Krane whispers in my ear, "Don't worry dear. He knows he has a scar."

I grimace and look at the blank page for far too long before I write one single word across the top: flawless. Instantly embarrassed, I flip to the next page in my packet before I can erase it.

It's my turn before I'm ready. Not that anyone could be ready for such an appraisal. As I stand under the light, I feel naked, ashamed somehow. It's a sickening feeling knowing that thirty of your peers are about to write down the very things you're already painfully self-conscious about. I want nothing more than to run away from this abuse. But I don't, because I'm a coward. Instead, I suffer in silence.

Etash

She is the last to go on stage, and when she steps into the light, I am gobsmacked. She is so beautiful under the golden wash of light falling down upon her that it literally takes my breath away. Without any instructions from me, my hand starts to fly across the page, sketching her face. My pencil picks up the delicate highlights surrounding her nose, the slight blush kissing her cheeks, and her lush, full bottom lip, so plump that I can't help but imagine what it would taste like.

Blinking hard, I pull myself back to reality before I write down the two words I need her to know about herself, in spite of these morons around me: You're perfect.

Professor Krane corrals us back to class and dumps the packets on her desk. With expert hands she sorts the pages into neat little piles, clearly having done this a zillion times before.

"After you get your packet, you'll be dismissed. Your assignments are all in the syllabus. When I call your name, you can come up, then you're free to go."

Naya's name is called first. Watching her as she slips out the door, I fight back an overwhelming feeling of loss.

Naya

As soon as the door closes behind me, I start sprinting toward the exit, desperate for some fresh air. I'm almost to the exit when a bright green flyer catches my eye.

AUDITIONS TONIGHT!

Romeo & Juliet

Directed by Professor Campbell

6:00 pm to 9:00 pm on Stanley Stage Black Box Stage 2

No monologues but come prepared to move

The irony of the play selection is not lost on me.

Still anxious to get as far away from the building as fast as possible, I head to the safety of the bookstore eager to hide in the walls of overpriced books.

Two hundred and fifty-three dollars and nineteen cents later, I'm back in my room, taking inventory of my new make-up kit and a small pile of used theatre books. There is an anthology of plays that's about five inches thick and weighs a ton, two scary-looking Stage Craft books, an early European costuming book, and a voice book for my Acting class.

Even though I really should start my reading due for tomorrow's Drama Lit class, I can't help but be curious. Jumping off my bed, I grab my bag and pull out my 'packet of flaws.'

I bite my lip as I begin reading: She needs some sun! Her eyes are hard to see—they're too dark; her nose is thin; no cheek bones!; I think her lips are uneven; her chin is really square, and my favorite: is that a mole or a zit? Awesome. Twenty pages of these cryptic remarks sure do make a girl feel good about herself.

The last page changes my sour mood completely. On it there is a sketch of my face—no, sketch is the wrong word. It's too common a word. This is more than a sketch. This is a portrait of my face. The image of the girl staring back at me is so stunning, that I actually gasp. The handwriting on the bottom of the page, which is small and elegant, holds only two words: You're perfect.

I clasp my hand to my mouth in shock. "You're perfect." Not, "the subject is perfect," or "she's perfect," but "you're perfect." A wide smile spreads across my "uneven" lips.

Just then my cell phone rings in my pocket causing me to jump, scattering the pages all over the floor. It's Seth's ring tone so I scramble to retrieve the call before the second ring.

"What took you so long to answer?" Seth's voice booms in my ear.

"I was trying to unlock my door," I lie. "And it only rang twice," I add, as though that will make any difference.

"Pick it up faster next time," he says with no trace of humor.

"You're back from class already?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, I'm at the bookstore now. I got slammed in Psychology and English Lit. Good thing the folks are bankrolling this," he snorts.

I feel a slight tinge of jealousy. Not for his money-- my trust fund covers my education—but for the simple fact that he still has parents who care about him and I don't.

"Meet me for dinner in a half an hour," he says. "I'll be the handsome guy in the back."

My stomach grumbles on cue. I guess the fruit bar for lunch wasn't such a good idea.

"I'll be there."

"And then after dinner, we can go back to your place," he says.

"I can't tonight," I say.

"Why not?" he asks, sounding pissed.

"Because I just found out that there are auditions tonight at 6:00." Up until this moment, I hadn't even thought about auditioning.

In the background, I can hear some girl laughing.

"Well, I guess that's why you came to this stupid school." More laughter. "Look, I shouldn't be here too much longer," he says. "I've just got one more thing I want to grab." I might have been imagining it, but I swear I can hear his hand smack skin before a girl laughs again.

#  Chapter 3

Etash

"What we need from Romeo and Juliet, above anything else, is chemistry," Elizabeth tells me in her office later that afternoon.

"Even more important than their dance ability?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. She's been going on about 'chemistry' now for the last twenty minutes.

"Absolutely!" She stands up quickly in an attempt to stress her point. I must not look convinced because she storms over to me, leans against her desk and crosses her arms, clearly disappointed that I'm not in total agreement with her.

"If we can find two actors who click, then teaching them how to move is a walk in the park. But if they fizzle?" She starts to pace within the confines of her small office. "I don't care how well they can dance; if there is no spark, the audience will never root for them! They'll never mourn for our lovers at their untimely death." She stops pacing suddenly, then lifts her hand to her forehead and proceeds to 'die' onto her sofa.

"So, who do you have in mind?" I say, smirking, not the least bit impressed by her performance.

Elizabeth pulls a pillow over her eyes in defeat. "I have no idea." Sighing, she sits up and starts rubbing her temples. "Daphne might be able to pull it off, but I'm not sure if she can move. Possibly Alexia or Jade?"

I shoot her a look.

"Wait, Jade is back in rehab isn't she?"

"Yup."

"Well, it's not Juliet I'm worried about," she says coyly, smoothing down some of her wild gray curls. "I'm sure there will be enough women to sift through; there always are." She gets up slowly then slides into the chair beside me. "I'm more concerned about who will be my Romeo." Real subtle, Elizabeth.

"I already told you no," I say, and she pouts. "I'm not doing it. Period. I'm your Assistant Director, take it or leave it."

"Fine," she huffs, "but you and I both know you'd be perfect." Grumpy, she pushes off from the chair and goes back to her desk.

I shake my head and hold back a grin, pulling out my Assistant Director binder, flipping pages absently until she starts asking me about possible crew options.

There, I can help her. I've got a long list of possible people for the crew, talented and reliable people, sans the diva attitudes of most actors.

We narrow our crew options down to the best of the best, all of whom I will call tonight, then we decide to hit the dance studio to try out a few basic movements. Elizabeth can use these later at tonight's audition to assess the actors' ability to move and take direction.

Around 5:30 we start to hear the chatter of people downstairs mingling in the hallways. Early birds. I start to pick up my stuff when Elizabeth taps me on the shoulder and flashes me a five-dollar bill.

"Tea?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"I promise, once I get a Stage Manager, I'll make them get tea for both of us." She crosses her heart with her fingertip.

Flashing her a smile, I head over to the campus coffee shop to pick up her Earl Grey tea with light cream, and my decaf chai. I'm actually grateful for a chance to get out of the building for a bit. Fresh air is just what I need after being cramped inside for so long.

There's a longer line than usual once I get there, so by the time I make it back, the stage is already filled with actors and dancers stretching. Half of them are clearly dance majors and the other half are desperately trying to look like they are. Elizabeth is about to head on stage when she sees me and rushes over.

"My tea! You are a god! Thank you!" She pulls the cover off her tea, inhales deeply, then takes a long sip. "Perfection." She puts the lid back on and hands me back her cup. "Now let's see what the cat dragged in, shall we?"

I take my seat at the director's table and take out my binder again, this time, ready to take notes.

Elizabeth turns her attention back to the stretching bodies on stage then claps her hands a few times until the crowd quiets down.

"Thank you all for coming out tonight. You might be wondering why I've asked you all to come ready to move for an audition for Romeo & Juliet."

Several heads start to nod in agreement as Elizabeth chuckles knowingly.

"The reason movement is going to be so important for this play is because we're going to be doing it without words."

The outburst of quiet conversations that follow is downright comical. They don't get it either.

"I know, I know," she says, a tinge of defensiveness in her tone, "How do you perform a play, a play written by Shakespeare, of all people, without words?"

She climbs the stairs and enters the light dramatically. "You do it, with music and movement." She raises her arms over her head and strikes a Martha Graham-ish pose. You've got to hand it to her; she does know how to make an entrance.

Although Elizabeth is twice the age of all of the students around her, she still has a dancer's body. Despite her long, frizzy hair and the excessive amount of necklaces looped around her neck, she still manages to evoke the image of grace and professionalism. As though to show off her ability, she expertly glides over to her laptop on the floor.

"I'm going to play some music now, and I just want you to move however you feel comfortable." She rests her hands on her hips delicately. "I want to stress something here. I'm not looking for dancers who can act. I'm looking for people who can convey emotion through their bodies," she says to a sea of blank faces. "Just move however the music makes you feel." She bends over and hits play and bounces back into the darkness, sliding into the seat beside me.

"Here we go," she whispers, rubbing her hands together.

The track playing is one I hand-picked. It's that same Celtic singer that I heard the first time dancing with Elizabeth. The singer's voice is so beautiful that it would be close to impossible for anyone without a soul not to be moved by it. I'm fighting the urge to jump up on stage with them myself.

As the group begins tentatively to move their bodies around, Elizabeth starts grumbling a little. No one is jumping out at her. No one has impressed me, either. But we've just started. They just need to relax a little.

"Any suggestions?" she asks me.

"They're just nervous. They have no idea what they're supposed to do. You may need to give them some direction," I offer.

"Direction from a Director...that's cute, kid." She smirks at me, then pushes out of her chair to give more detailed instructions. Unfortunately, there is little improvement. Part of the problem is that they're all crammed up there like sardines. We can't even see some of the dancers in the back. Before I can mention this small detail to Elizabeth, she starts asking a few of the obviously weaker dancers to sit for a moment, and the crowd eventually starts to thin, although there are still a few in the back that seem to be hiding.

Next she starts to physically pair up the women with the dozen men who have shown up, but there's a problem; there just aren't enough males. She turns and peers at me from the darkness and I already know what's coming.

"Be a darling and come up and dance, won't you Etash?" she pleads. "Just for this one part, please?"

I let out a heavy sigh, but I relent. After all, I will have to get up there and teach this cast how to move eventually. I might as well start now.

"Etash is my Assistant Director," she announces to the dancers when I stand up and kick off my shoes. Bare feet is the only way I dance. "Since we're so short on men, I'll have him work with some of you for this part of the audition."

Naya

As the light hits him, my breath catches in my throat. He's here? So it wasn't nerves I was feeling earlier...it was him.

Still hiding behind the row of dancers in front of me, I watch as he unbuttons his shirt, crumples it into a ball and tossed it off stage. He's left standing next to Elizabeth in just a white tank that clings to his modest chest and loose fitting, tattered jeans that hang just over his bare feet. Amazing.

"You can close your mouth now," Kari whispers in my ear beside me.

"Shut up," I hiss, hiding my face in my hands, causing Kari to chuckle softly.

I do my best to focus on the director who is currently talking to Etash, watching in awe as he smiles at her. Such a small thing, a smile, but seeing the corners of his eyes turned up in laughter, causes me to well up with tears. His expression is always pained whenever he looks at me.

"OK," Professor Campbell says, "I want to try the women on stage first. Men, I'll call you in a little bit, so be ready," she says. Etash and the other men disappear into the wings, and I calmly freak out. I have about ten seconds either to run out of the theatre or face the fact that I'm going to have to go through this audition with him. My brain is telling me to bolt, and I almost do. But it's the music that keeps me put. The song that has come on is so...mesmerizing. I can't pull myself away from it. I close my eyes and allow my body to move along with the rhythm, slowly losing myself to the music.

"Alright ladies," Elizabeth calls out, "you've just seen Romeo at the ball. Picture his face. You got it?"

Got it.

"You're longing to see him again," she says in a dramatic whisper, "but he's your enemy. He can't ever be yours. Let me feel that conflict; that aching need to see his face again."

As if on cue, the rhythm of the song also changes, becomes urgent, and my limbs succumb to the singer's hypnotic voice; a voice filled with such loss and pain that it causes my entire body to contort effortlessly to the music's command.

"And now," she says, "You see your Romeo in the distance."

Several figures start emerging from the darkness, but there is only one my body reacts to. I lunge forward the minute the light hits his face, almost tripping over my own feet. My stumble pulls his attention to me and I watch his expression as he takes me in. Gone is his light smile and in its place is what looks like a mix of anger and sorrow.

Dancers are spinning all around me, but I move fluidly around them. I am hardly aware of my feet as they fly across the floor. My eyes are locked on his, as his seem to be on mine. When he begins walking toward me too, my heart almost explodes in anticipation.

We're only a few feet away from one another when we both stop and begin to circle each other, painfully slow. Our bodies manage to inch closer with each rotation, causing my breath to come in such short erratic bursts that I'm afraid I may hyperventilate. Everything in my body is screaming out to touch him, to just reach out and take his hand, but I push down the impulse with every ounce of energy I have.

The song ends at some point, but we keep circling each other, seemingly powerless to do anything about it.

"Beautiful." I hear someone say. I don't look to see who it is. I can't. My eyes won't budge from his. It's only when I feel a yanking on my arm, pulling me away from Etash, that I'm able to even blink. Kari has got a hold of my arm and doesn't let go of it until I'm firmly planted in the chairs off stage.

"Just beautiful," the voice whispers again. From the safety of the chairs, I can now tell that it was the director who spoke. She is looking directly at Etash now; his head has dropped into his hands.

Etash

Already, I know what she's thinking and it won't happen. I will not play Romeo to her Juliet. I can't.

Avoiding eye-contact with both of them, the hour passes as Elizabeth continues to pair up the other dancers. No one has come close to what Naya and I had done and I know no one ever will, but that's not my problem.

"I think I've seen enough," Elizabeth says eventually.

I can feel her glare on me, but I refuse to look at her.

"We're going to break for about 20 minutes while Etash and I conference in my office. When we come back we'll have a cast list ready. Thank you all again for coming tonight. You've given us a hard task ahead." She closes her binder and pushes up from her chair, holding her hand out in front of her, allowing me to leave first. I march out of the room, preparing myself for an argument.

As soon as the door closes behind her I start in.

"No. I know what you're thinking, and no."

"Etash," her voice is exasperated. "Did you not just see what I saw? You two were amazing! I couldn't take my eyes off you!"

I want to scream at her that what she just saw is currently freaking the hell out of me, but I don't. Instead, I sit down on her couch and let out a slow, careful breath.

"I am not an actor, Elizabeth, you know that. I am your Assistant Director."

She rushes over to me and places her hands on my arms.

"And you still can be. You could do both!" Her eyes are bright and hopeful.

When I shake my head no, she gets onto the floor and starts to beg. She's trying to be funny, but she has no idea what she's asking of me. But then, how could she? She doesn't have a clue what this girl does to me, and I don't plan on cluing her in, so I go a different route.

"I am not exactly Romeo-looking material," I say, full of confidence. Try arguing with that one.

But Elizabeth doesn't bat an eyelash. She gets up off the floor, looks me dead in the eye and points toward the door. "To that girl out there, you are."

I open my mouth to tell her how wrong she is, but she stops me before I can get a word out.

"The way she looked at you, Etash...I swear; I just witnessed love at first sight." She's wrong, but I know she'll push it if I argue with her.

"She has a boyfriend," I hiss, surprised by the jealousy I find in my voice.

"Ah, ha. So you two have met." She gives me a knowing smile.

"It's not like that," I say, trying to cover. "She's in a few of my classes, that's all. That's not even the point. I'm not an actor," I say again.

She wags her finger at me. "Just because you're a Directing major, doesn't mean you can't also be an actor. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't your major require that you perform in at least one show a year?"

"Yes, but it doesn't have to be this one," I say slowly.

"True. Good point." A slow smile spreads across her face. She's up to something. "Tell me again," she says, "which show did you perform in during your freshman year?"

"I didn't do any my freshman year," I say through my teeth. She knows damn well I was too busy helping my Grams to do a show.

"That's right, you didn't. Hmm, as your adviser, I have to tell you, that's not good." She shakes her head solemnly. I know where she's going with this, and I'm not happy about it. "I tell you what: be my Romeo and I'll overlook this little infringement."

"That's blackmail."

Elizabeth just laughs. "No, it isn't. I'm simply offering you a way to make up for a credit that you will be sorely lacking when it comes time to graduate. I'm doing you a favor." She grins wider, knowing she has me trapped.

"This is going to end badly," I whisper.

"Nonsense! It's going to be perfect!" She comes over and gives me a big bear hug, then actually squeals with delight. "Thank you, Etash. You won't regret this. I promise."

Naya

During our break, Kari drags me outside for a 'walk.' The chilly air feels wonderful against the nape of my neck, which is still hot from the audition.

"What the hell is going on between you and Etash?" Kari demands as soon as we were out of earshot of the others.

"Nothing!"

"That was not 'nothing' back there."

I stop walking and sit on the curb of the sidewalk. "I know," I admit with a heavy sigh. Kari sits down beside

me and puts her arm around my shoulders, and the gesture touches me. I feel like I can trust her; and honestly, if I don't tell someone about this, I'm afraid I'm going to go insane.

"I don't know what it is about him, but...every time I get near him, strange things happen to me." I rest my head in my hands, hoping that she doesn't start making fun of me again.

"Like what?" Her tone is soft, sincere.

How do I explain what's happening to me? Slumping my shoulders, I try to be as honest as I can.

"Whenever I'm...close to him, it's like someone has a rope tied around my waist and is pulling me to wherever he is, and I can't break free."

She raises her eyebrows up at me, worry creasing her forehead.

"Freaky stuff happens too. When I get too close to him, the hair on my arms stands up on end, like I've just been electrocuted or something. But it's the pain—that's the worst. It's a crushing ache right here," I put my hand over my heart. "It's really scary, Kari. I don't know what's happening to me!" I realize how desperate I must sound, but I need her to help me figure this out.

"What are you going to do?" Kari asks.

I sigh. "I don't know. Avoid him, I guess. It's the only thing I can do."

We sit in silence on the curb for the rest of the break, neither of us knowing quite what to say now.

All too soon Professor Campbell's voice booms out across the night, beckoning the actors back inside. I shiver, and not from the night air.

Back inside we all sit quietly on the hard metal folding chairs. There is some light chatter, but everyone's attention is glued to the cast list that rests neatly folded inside Professor Campbell's hands.

"Before I post the cast list, I'd like to thank you all again for coming," she says. "There were some wonderful dancers here tonight, and although that was not a requirement for this production, it was lovely to see. I got to see some amazing chemistry, and that was more than I could have hoped for." She glances quickly at Etash, who looks furious for some reason. She turns around fluidly, ignoring Etash's harsh stare, and tapes the cast list on the wall and then walks out of the room, smiling. Etash follows, close at her heels.

All of the actors rush toward the list once they've gone, Kari included, but I stay planted where I am. The room is oddly silent as they all scan the list for their names. Kari's tall frame stands out clearly above the rest.

When she turns around, her face is blank. She doesn't meet my eyes when she sits down beside me. I smile, understanding from her body language that we, or, at least, I, hadn't been cast. She takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"Congratulations," she whispers. Her eyes watch me carefully. I look at her confused.

"You got Juliet," she says. "I'll be your Nurse." She smiles timidly at me.

"No. You must have read it wrong." I assure her. "I'm only a freshman. I can't be a lead."

"That's only for Main Stage productions, not Black Box," she replies. "Didn't you know that?"

No. I certainly did not know that. My first lead in college? This is crazy! I should be jumping for joy, but there is something about Kari's expression that scares me. Then my stomach lurches.

"Who got Romeo?"

Her hand squeezes mine again—harder. "Etash."

"No. No, that's not possible. He's the Assistant Director," I say surprised by the hostility in my voice.

"Apparently not anymore," Kari says, biting her lip. "I can't blame her for doing it...the chemistry between you two was...undeniable."

Oh god. Etash and I—together, doing love scenes, no doubt kissing... "No. No. I can't do it."

"Of course, you can, you're an actress," Kari says trying to soothe me.

"You don't get it, do you? I can't be that close to him!" My voice quivers. "Didn't you see? Kari, I can't control my body when he's close to me!" I stand up and pull my hands through my hair. How could I possibly be that close to him every day?

The blood drains out of me as I remember one very important thing.

"Seth...when Seth sees the way I look at Etash, the way I react around him..." I'm rambling now, but I can't stop myself. "Kari, I can't take this role, if Seth even suspected anything..." I stop myself, fearing I might have already said too much.

My breath starts coming in shallow bursts in this dank, cold theatre. I need fresh air, now. But when I turn around to leave, the room starts twirling out of focus. Trying to steady myself, I grab a hold of Kari, who's looking at me wide-eyed. Stars start dancing around her face. Shit! Not now! But it's happening. I'm about to have a full-blown panic attack. If I don't chill out it'll lead to a blackout. Focus, Naya! I scream at myself to breathe slower. I take another careful breath, but as I inhale, I see Etash dancing around me, and the room starts to spin faster. My eyelids get heavy as they begin their familiar descent to the back of my head. I feel my knees begin to buckle and I brace myself knowing that I'll be helpless to break my fall because my upper body has already gone numb. Then, there's nothing.

#  Chapter 4

Etash

Elizabeth hasn't stopped grinning from the moment she posted the cast list and it's starting to piss me off. She has no idea what she's done to me by forcing my hand in this, completely oblivious as she works at her computer, humming some stupid show tune. Her off-key falsetto is making my head hurt.

Unable to sit still, but not daring to leave her office while Naya is still in the building, I start to pace. Elizabeth shakes her head at me and urges me to relax, but I can't. Instead, I pick up speed, marching back and forth across her small office several times, when out of the blue, the room starts to spin a little, and I have to sit down. Whoa. That was weird.

After a minute, I try to stand up again but my legs are wobbly. My stomach knots itself into a tight ball. Clearly something is wrong, but I know that it's not with me: it's her. Something is wrong with her. I can feel it.

At that moment, an ear-piercing, metallic, crashing sound comes from outside Elizabeth's office.

"What was that?" Elizabeth asks, looking up from her desk.

"Naya," I whisper.

"What?"

I can't answer; I just go. I fly out of Elizabeth's office and pause briefly in the hall. Her scent burns my nostrils, pinpointing exactly where she is; she's still in the Black Box.

Pushing past a small group of students who have gathered in the door frame, I find her. She's on the floor, chairs scattered around her crumpled body. A girl from my acting class is kneeling down beside her, about to turn her over.

"Get away from her!" I shout, terrified by the anger in my voice. The girl backs away instantly, scared. There is no time to apologize for my rudeness—Naya's hurt. Manners can wait.

When I finally reach her, she's lying on her stomach, her head turned to one side, her hair falling wildly around her face. But even through her black mane, I can see that part of her face is turning a deep shade of red. Like she was just hit with something hard and unyielding.

And just like that, the walls I had built to keep her out, to keep everyone out, start to crack, and so do I.

"Naya!" I scream, surprising myself with the pain that is there. I need her to wake up, to know that she is okay. "Naya!"

Over and over again I say her name, and every time she doesn't respond, the more insane I become.

"Etash!" Elizabeth is beside me trying to calm me down, I shake her off violently.

"Call for help!" I order.

"I already have. Let's get her into my office. We can put her on the couch."

But I'm not convinced that moving her is best. I lean down close to her and listen carefully to her breathing, easily able to tune everything else out. It's slow and steady. Closing my eyes, I listen even harder. I swear I can hear the blood running through her veins; can actually detect the delicate sound of healing white blood cells as they flow toward her head, but only her head. Which means nothing is broken. It's safe to move her.

Slightly terrified by what her touch will do to me, I decide to try just a hand at first. With great care and trepidation, I gently stroke her face with the back of my hand, and in the second our skin touches, I am transformed.

Suddenly nothing else in the world matters except her. She sends electric shock waves straight into my heart, making my skin feel like it's on fire. But I don't pull away because it's not a burn of pain; it's a burn that is healing, magical. It's unlike anything I've ever felt before and I know instinctively that I'll never encounter it with another living soul.

Rolling her over onto her back, I gently cradle my arm under her neck, put my other under her legs and lift her up, amazed by how light she is. I pull her close into my chest, noticing how perfectly she fits there. Her body melts against mine and she sighs my name. I am completely overwhelmed that she has called out my name from some place deep within her unconsciousness.

Inside Elizabeth's office, I become terribly frustrated that I'll have to release her from my arms to rest her on the couch. Since I'm not sure what will happen to me once she's out of my arms, I decide to put her down and step away as fast as possible. But, as I lower her down onto the couch, she snuggles up close to my neck; a small grin spreads across her beautiful lips. And right there, as her head rests against me, perfectly content, my heart nearly breaks. I have to let her go.

Pulling her arms off from me, I settle her onto the couch and back away. As soon as I release her, my body starts shaking—pushing me back to her. I can feel

Elizabeth's questioning eyes on me, so before I can make a further fool of myself, I run out the door and through the complex, stopping only once I get safely outside.

Naya

Light whispering wakes me from my stupor and I struggle to open my eyes. A persistent, dull throb runs along the left side of my face. Ow. The whispers stop. Apparently, I said that out loud. I open my eyes but don't recognize the room. I start to sit up.

"Easy, Naya, stay down; you'll make your ice pack fall off."

"Ice pack?"

"You hit your head pretty hard." Kari steps into view.

Ignoring her, I push myself up a little further on the couch I'm sitting on. The pack falls onto my lap, causing my head to instantly pound even harder.

"Ow." Okay, moving is bad. "What happened?"

"I think you fainted," Kari says.

"I didn't faint," I say, shaking my head defiantly. I don't volunteer that it was just a childish panic attack. Pain throbs along my jaw line again. "Why does my face hurt?"

"You kinda hit it on a chair." That would do it. Kari bites her lip, catching the gaze of someone else in the room. I turn my head to see who she was looking at Professor Campbell. Right, this must be her office.

Professor Campbell flies to my side, grabbing my hand. "The sound of it was just awful. It resonated all the way into my office." She gives a quick glance to Kari. "The campus nurse is on her way here to check you over.to make sure you don't have a concussion or internal bleeding or something worse."

Embarrassment floods into my cheeks. "I'm fine, really."

A phone rings and Professor Campbell races to her desk to answer it.

"How did I get in here?" I whisper to Kari. I didn't remember walking here.

She starts rubbing the back of her neck. "Um...you were carried."

"Oh, how embarrassing," I groan. "So you and Professor Campbell had to carry me in here? How mortifying."

I'm surprised when I see her grimace. "I didn't exactly carry you." She's squirming in her chair, perhaps hoping I'll let it go, but I just continue to stare at her, clearly wanting more from her. "When you fell, you made a lot of noise, so, obviously, people came back to check it out. So someone stronger than me volunteered to carry you." She's hiding something from me.

"Who carried me?"

She sighs heavily before telling me what I already know.

"Etash."

Of course.

"That was the nurse," Professor Campbell says, kneeling down beside me so I'm forced to look at her. "She's at the front entrance. Apparently it's locked. I'm just going to go let her in. I'll be right back." She gives me a quick smile before she leaves.

"Tell me exactly what happened," I hiss, sitting up straighter on the couch, trying to ignore my head when it spins a little.

"Well, like I said, the sound of the metal chairs banging around was really loud. Lonny, Richard and Thomas were standing outside and came running in. Etash came a couple minutes after them.

"Then what?" I ask through my teeth. I know the moments are numbered before the nurse arrives.

She hesitates. "Etash, when he saw you, he...kinda flipped out. I mean you did look pretty bad the way you were lying on the ground, all broken looking, but even still, he went all crazy." Her face twists at the memory.

"What do you mean?"

She bites her lip again, clearly not wanting to finish her story. "I had started to turn you over, but he shouted at me and told me to get away from you. Which I did, because his expression scared me so much, and then as he got closer and saw your face, his eyes went wild. I don't know how else to describe it. He literally pushed everyone out of the way and sank down to the ground beside you, trying to wake you up." She stops, looking me square in the eye. "He kept yelling your name, over and over again. Naya, he sounded like he was...in agony." She says the last words so quietly that I'm not sure I've heard her right.

He called out my name in agony? Why? He hates me. She must have remembered it wrong.

"At some point Professor Campbell comes in, sees what's going on and insists we take you to her couch and call the nurse," Kari continues. "No one offered to carry you because it was clear to all of us that Etash wasn't going to let anyone else near you. He looked like he was afraid to touch you at first...but once he had you in his arms, he was...I don't know...different, somehow."

She leans closer to me as though confiding a deep secret.

"The whole time he was carrying you, he was looking at you. I mean the _whole_ time. He never even looked up to see where he was going. And his eyes, Naya, his eyes. They were in such _pain_." She looks at me apologetically.

"Where is he now?" is all I can manage to get out.

"He bolted right after he put you down. I assume he went to wait for the nurse."

Meaning he could be locked outside as we speak, with the nurse: the nurse who was on her way here. My heart starts doing double time. "I think I need to lie back down."

"That's a good idea because Seth's about to show up too."

"Seth? How?" I stammer, not able to finish the thought.

"He called your cell while you were passed out. I answered it and kinda told him what happened. I'm sorry, I assumed you'd want him here."

"Right. Awesome." Seth and Etash were about to be in the same room together.

Etash

The crisp night air assaults my body as I step outside. Making my way over to the bench near the bike racks, I collapse onto it. I force myself to take deep, slow breaths to chill out, but my nerves are shot. My whole body feels as though it has been drained of all its purpose.

As I lie on the bench, shivering against the cold, there is one obsessive voice that starts screaming inside my head: Go back to her! The voice tries to rationalize with me: "Just make sure she's okay," it urges. But I can't. She has a boyfriend to do that, I remind myself.

That's when I see him; a big beefy guy approaching the theatre door. He pulls on it, but it doesn't budge. It must have locked behind me.

"Naya!" he shouts banging his fist against the glass, hard. It's him: the boyfriend. I swallow back some bile. Why do I loathe him so much? I don't even know him. But something in my gut tells me this guy is pure evil.

"You looking for Naya?" I yell over to him. Macho man turns to look at me, sizes me up, determines I'm no threat, then answers me.

"Where is she?" he demands, his tone full of accusation. Nope. I do not like him.

"She's inside. The doors must have locked behind me. The nurse is on her way." I take a step closer. "I'm Etash."

"What the hell happened?" he shouts at me. So much for introductions.

"We're not sure. We think she might have fainted. She fell onto some chairs when she went down. She's pretty banged up."

He stiffens, and crosses his big fat arms across his chest, defensively. "From the fall?"

I look at him funny. "Yeah, from the fall. Why else would she be banged up?" I ask.

He doesn't answer me, but instead goes back to hitting the door, and I can't help but wonder if he's ever hit her the way he just hit that door. God help him if he has.

"Excuse me," a voice says behind me. "Do either of you know if there's a Naya Adams in here?" It's the nurse. A wave of relief washes over me.

"She's inside. But it's locked. Let me call Elizabeth to let us in," I say, dialing the numbers.

While we wait, I fill in the nurse with as much information as I can, noticing how the boyfriend flexes his muscles when he hears that _I_ carried her onto the couch.

When Elizabeth arrives, she mumbles her apologies for the doors locking and shuffles us down the hall. Elizabeth tells the nurse that Naya has regained consciousness, and without thinking about what my actions might look like to the boyfriend, I take off running down the hall. I have to see her awake. I have to see for myself that she's okay.

When I get to her office, I'm instantly at ease. Naya's awake; pale, but awake, and looking right at me. She gives me a weak smile. Hearing footsteps coming behind me, I hold my ground a safe distance away from her, just as the beefcake barrels inside.

"I'm okay," Naya says, seeming to need to calm both of us down.

The nurse kneels down beside her and starts asking her a barrage of questions that she tries to answer, all the while downplaying any pain she must be in. She's not fooling me. Anyone with a mark like that is going to be in pain. I know.

Throughout the questioning, I find out that lover boy's name is Seth. Even his name sounds slimy.

"Is she going to be okay?" I ask the nurse, unable to hold my tongue any longer. Seth turns to glare at me, his eyes narrowing in warning.

The nurse purses her lips. "She seems alright to me. But I want you to keep that ice pack on for at least the next 20 minutes to keep any swelling down. Aspirin or Tylenol can help for the pain. Are you on any other medications?"

Naya's eyes widen a bit, and I swear I see Seth's hand tighten around her arm before she answers.

"No," she says softly.

"Alright. Then I don't see anything to be worried about at this point. However, you need to let me, or your primary care doctor, know _immediately_ if you start to feel nauseous or have any problems with your eyes in the next few days."

"She will," Seth answers for her. That gets on my nerves.

The nurse gathers her things and Professor Campbell leaves to escort her out. Seth starts to help Naya off the couch and it's all I can do not to rip his meat hooks off her.

"You alright, baby?" Seth asks Naya, carefully tossing me a sideways glance.

"Yeah, I guess I just got nervous about getting the lead. I wasn't expecting it. I just fainted, that's all."

She's lying. I don't know how I know or why, but she's lying.

"You got the lead? Baby, that's awesome! I told you that you were good."

"She's the Juliet to my Romeo," I say, a tad defensively.

"Isn't that the one where they die at the end?" he asks Naya, ignoring me altogether.

"They kill themselves because they can't live without the other," I say, glaring at him.

Seth turns to me now and smiles slowly. "Etash, is it? Thanks for your help and all, but I got it from here."

He wants me gone. Fine. This is getting too painful to watch anyway.

"Right. I'm glad you're okay, Naya. See you at rehearsal," I say, then pull myself away from the woman who I know is supposed to be my destiny.

Naya

"They cast the freak show as Romeo?" Seth chuckles a few moments after Etash has left. I bite my tongue. "Just pretend it's me," he says, coming over to kiss my bruise and I flinch. "Now let's get you into bed,"

I say goodbye to Kari, who smiles weakly at me. Seth puts his arm firmly around my waist, slings my book bag over his shoulder and we start the hobble back to my dorm.

I ditch the ice pack as soon as we get back in my room. Seth sets me down on my bed and pulls the covers over my legs. As soon as he has settled me in, he starts rummaging around my room, presumably looking for my stash of Tylenol.

"If there isn't any on my dresser, there should be some in my bag," I say. My bag! Crap. I still have homework to do. I groan.

Seth spins around. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. I just realized I have a bunch of reading due for my Drama Lit class tomorrow."

He frowns at me.

"You're not doing any homework tonight, Naya. You just hit your head for crying out loud. I think your Professors will cut you a little slack."

I shake my head vehemently, ignoring the intense throbbing that accompanies the movement. "No, I'm not skipping out on my homework on the second day of college! Now could you get me my bag, please?"

"No."

"Fine, I'll get it myself." I snap, whipping the covers off my legs.

"Lie down, lie down! I'll get your stupid bag."

I lay back down as ordered. He tosses my bag on the end of my bed where it lands with a heavy thud. I unzip it and yank out the huge anthology of plays we'll be studying over the next two years. My eyes twinkle. I am going to _love_ reading these. Digging around in my bag, I find my syllabus and flip to my first assignment: _Antigone_ , A Greek tragedy. Cool.

Seth is suddenly hovering over my bed, handing me two pills and a bottle of water then sits on the bed beside me.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." I swallow them without taking my eyes off the page, knowing that he's not going to give me a choice in the matter. He lies down beside me, and starts stroking my hair, then traces the line of my bruise lightly.

"You know, I've got a lot of reading to do tonight," I say, "I'm not going to be much company. You should go home," I offer, but he just ignores me, pushes off my bed and grabs my laptop. "I know you're worried about me, but I'm really okay," I continue.

"I'm staying until you fall asleep." His voice is firm. No point in arguing with him now. Instead, I bury myself into my homework, happily using my highlighter along the way.

About a half-hour later, my eyelids start to droop and I let a huge yawn out. A low chuckle comes from across the room.

"Don't fight it," he tells me.

"Fight what?" I ask, yawning again.

"The drugs. I gave you some of your anti-anxiety meds."

What? Those totally knock me out, and he knows it. I'm pissed.

"Seth! Why would you do that? I told you I have homework to do tonight!"

"But you don't know what's best for you. I do. And right now, you need sleep."

I start to protest again but he puts his hand over my mouth before I can speak. "Don't argue with me." He takes the book out of my hand and tosses the rest of them onto the floor. I know better than to push him now, so I let the argument go, resolving instead to wake up early and finish my reading then.

"Guess you can leave now," I grumble.

"I can, but I won't." He leans in and brushes his lips to mine, but I don't return the kiss. I'm too tired and angry to comply with his needs at the moment.

"Before you drift off into never-never land, I want you to remember to call me when you wake up," he orders."I need to make sure you're alright, understand?"

Instead of answering, I roll over in bed, giving him my back.

"Do you understand, Naya?" he says slowly. Enunciating each word, the way he does when he's attempting to contain his anger.

"Yes," I hiss quietly, yanking the covers over my head. As much as I want to rip the blankets off and defy him, the drugs are too strong. I feel myself being pulled under and all too soon, I am dead to the world.

#  Chapter 5

Naya

Bolting upright in bed, my heart is racing. I'm drenched in sweat and feeling oddly disappointed. Pieces of the dream I just had been hanging along the fringe of my mind, and I try frantically to remember them before they disappear forever. Only tiny bits remain now; a rainstorm, insane lightning, and then, Etash. That, I remember vividly. Swallowing hard, I recall the image that has just ripped me from sleep. Etash, leaning in to kiss me, his lips glistening with rain.

That innocent fantasy brings with it so much guilt and confusion that I know I'll never be able to go back to sleep. Although it's only 4:13 am., I decide to wake up. At least now I'll have plenty of time to finish my Drama Lit homework in peace.

My head is still a bit fuzzy from the drugs Seth gave me last night. Asshole. For a second, I actually debate calling him as 'ordered to' the moment I woke up, but I figure he wouldn't appreciate my early morning sarcasm. Instead, I pop a few aspirins to quell the throb in my head, grab my shower stuff and trudge off to the bathroom.

There's no need for coffee since I'm already wide awake, but I brew some anyway when I get back. Downing a granola bar, I throw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, bracing myself for the crisp October air.

October used to be my favorite month before... I remember we'd all decorate the house crazy for Halloween. Complete with carved pumpkins, spider webs, a fog machine and spooky music. All of my friends would go out to trick-or-treat, but I'd always stay at home and pass out the candy. I loved seeing all the little kids dressed up and the awe in their eyes as they took in all of our decorations. The best part was their costumes, though. Mom and Dad always dressed in pairs: Salt and Pepper shakers, Yin and Yang, Cheech and Chong and my favorite; green eggs and ham. My parents knew how to celebrate life, how to live every moment like it was their last. It's a trait I knew they wanted to instill in me, but that wish died when they did.

With expert hands, I wrap my still-wet hair into a sloppy ponytail just to get it off my face and toss a pair of leggings in my bag for acting class. Acting...Etash. Shaking my head, I grab the largest coffee mug I have and fill it to the brim in a feeble attempt to swallow my rampant thoughts down before I sequester myself on my bed for some serious reading time.

Around 8:00, I give my eyes a much-needed break and resign myself to calling Seth. His roommate, John, answers, highly annoyed at the early hour of my call. He tells me Seth is still 'sleeping one off' before he mumbles what a stupid bitch I am. Nice.

I read for a bit longer then putter around on-line until it's time for me to leave. Cramming the essentials into my bag, I allow myself the usual quick, cursory glance in the mirror before heading out. I let out a gasp.

All along the left side of my face, there is a long, dark line which runs from the corner of my eye all the way down to the end of my jaw. The outline of the back of a metal chair is now imprinted onto my face. _Perfect. Just perfect._

Thoroughly pissed, I yank the ponytail out of my hair hoping to cover as much of my gruesome face as possible with a curtain of black hair and storm off to class.

I'm the first one to arrive, again, but today I decide, this is a good thing. I pad off into the bathroom to put my leggings on and when I come out, I choose a seat in the back, keeping my face to the wall, just as Etash had done. The realization causes me to squirm in my seat.

Needing to keep myself busy, I dig in my bag for something to read. Without thinking, I pull out my copy of Romeo & Juliet, but then cringe, and shove it back down to the bottom. I scrounge around for something else, but all I have left in my bag is my Drama Lit book, which I spent hours reading this morning, a notebook and my planner. Figures.

Just then the door opens, and my heart speeds up. Relief floods me when I see it's only Kari and another tall girl. What was her name? Liz? Liv? No-name goes into the bathroom, as Kari makes her way over to me.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Kari asks, sitting down beside me.

"Better."

"How's your head?"

I sigh. There's really no point in hiding it from her so I swing my hair to the side, showcasing my make-shift tattoo.

"Holy shit!"

"It looks worse than it feels," I mutter, as Kari leans in closer to get a better look.

"Um, Naya?" Kari's tone is measured, her face filled with sudden concern.

"What? Is it bleeding?" I reach my hand up to feel my face, but she bats it away, continuing to stare at me with a look of what I could only describe as fear.

"Naya, don't you see it?"

"See how freakish I look? Ya, I caught that," I hiss, pulling my hair back over my face.

"No. Not that. Your bruise. It looks exactly like Etash's scar." Even though I know that's impossible, as soon as she says it, I realize she's right. It runs down the left side of my face, from eye to jaw, just as his does. The odds of my face hitting the chair at that exact angle is inconceivable, but the facts are literally written all over my face. There is no way this could be just a coincidence, could it?

Afraid I may have another panic attack, I decide to bolt. Without looking back, I grab my bag and run out of class.

Etash

Even before I walk into Acting Class, I know she's not in there; I can't feel her. Flinging the door open, I scan the room—I'm right, she's not here. A friend of hers is there, though. She was the one with Naya last night. She's leaning her head toward another girl and starts whispering the moment they see me. She knows something. As I march over to them, I'm assaulted by Naya's scent. So, she was here.

"Where is she?" I ask her. She looks up at me like I've got three heads.

"Who?" she asks, batting her eyelashes.

I'm coming off too aggressive, so I try and calm myself down.

"Naya," I say, "Do you know where she is?"

"I'm not exactly sure why _you_ care where she is." She folds her arms across her chest, defensively.

Clenching my fists in frustration, I go for honesty.

"Look, I'm just worried about her. After last night, and all. Can you just tell me if she's okay?" My voice surprises me by shaking a bit at the end. Something in her expression shifts.

"She's okay," she confides and my shoulders slump in relief.

"If she's okay, then why did she leave?"

She looks at me strangely. Probably wondering how I could have possibly known Naya had been here. Then she looks at the other girl, and back at me, her resolve deflated.

"I think she might have left because of something I said." Her eyebrows pinch together in frustration. "She ran out of class when I pointed out how the bruise on her face looks exactly like your scar."

That's impossible. She's obviously just associating any mark on a face to be as freakish as my scar. Even still, I don't like that her comment upset Naya so much that she had to leave. I want to go and find her, but I don't. It's not my job to comfort her.

Naya

Back in my room, I sit on my bed prepared to wait out the hour and twenty minutes until my Drama Lit class starts by filling my brain with recklessly loud music. But my head is pounding so much that I can't tolerate it now.

Instead, I down some more aspirin and check my e-mail, needing to do something, anything, to distract me from thinking.

There are three messages in my inbox: one from Campus Security reminding girls to walk in pairs; safety first. Delete. There's one from Seth, presumably checking up on me. I skip by this one for now. The last e-mail is a bit of a shock. It's from Tina and Harold, my foster 'adults', for lack of a better term. I refuse to call them my parents because they aren't. Unable to conceive of any reason for them to want to e-mail me, I click on the message.

Naya,

We got a bill today from your college. Why? Please take care of this.

Regards, Tina and Harold.

Regards? How about 'love' guys? I delete the e-mail without replying. The bill is obviously an error in processing my trust fund, but I'd be damned if I was going to try and fix it right now. I frown at myself, realize I'm just being hateful. I want so much to be allowed to blame them for the pathetic job they did caring for me, but deep down, I know it's not their fault. They were cheated, after all. What they had wanted from a foster child was someone to care for their poodle while they went away on business trips, clean their house and run their errands. What they got was a fifteen-year-old head case. I'd want a refund too.

Flicking off my computer, I sit for a few minutes and stew. I'm angry. Angry at Harold and Tina for not being my parents, angry at Seth for always being so controlling, and angry at myself for apparently needing to be controlled. But mostly I'm furious with God for leaving me so utterly alone and afraid.

Unable to sit in my room any longer wallowing in self-pity, I grab my bag and head out early for Drama Lit.

I take the longest route possible, making unnecessary detours, weaving around dorms just to pass the time. When I reach the building, there are only about ten more minutes to kill. I breathe a sigh of relief. At least, Drama Lit will give my mind something more productive to focus on.

After buying a bottle of Coke from the vending machine, I make my way to class, and for two hours, lose myself in Greek tragedy, taking page after page of therapeutic notes.

I'm almost giddy to head to my first costuming course, knowing I can count on another fifty minutes of distraction. When the professor passes out the syllabus, however, I am less jovial. Who would have thought there could be this much homework for costumes?

Although I grumble, I am invigorated by the challenge. That's what college is all about. This is my opportunity to define who I want to be; to prove to the world, and to myself, that I am strong enough to survive whatever life spits at me.

My phone is ringing off the hook when I walk in my room. I grab it and toss my bag on the bed.

"Where the hell have you been?" It's Seth.

"Whoa, calm down, I just got back from class."

"Why didn't you answer your cell?"

I pull out my cell from my pocket and flip it open only to find that I must have turned it off.

"My battery must have died," I lie. "I didn't check it before I left. Sorry."

"You're sorry? Do you know how worried I've been? Why didn't you call me when you woke up like I asked you."

You didn't ask, you ordered, I want to say but I bite my tongue. "I _did_ call you. Josh said you were still sleeping," I say in the calmest voice that I can muster, careful to leave out the bit about his hangover.

He mumbles profanities about Josh's message-taking skills before his tone softens a bit.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine."

"I'm coming over," he's gone before I can object.

I have about ten minutes before he'll be at my door, so I plug my cell into its charger to cover my tracks, and I check my dorm phone for messages. The beeps on the line tell me I have a message. I punch in my code to reveal I have nine new messages! Eight are from Seth, frantic over nothing. I erase each message as soon as I hear his voice come on, already knowing the gist. I'm about to erase the last one until I hear Professor Campbell's voice.

"Just wanted to let you know I've set the first rehearsal for tomorrow night at 6:00. It's just going to be you, me and Etash. See you soon."

Thinking about Etash brings an instant blush to my face. When Seth pounds on my door, I almost jump out of my skin. I rush to the door, scrambling with the lock, and open it.

"Hey there." Seth's leaning against the door frame, holding a wildflower in his hand that's moist with rain, giving me his most apologetic smile. It's a smile I've seen a thousand times before—it's his signal that he's come to beg forgiveness for being a jerk. Already, I know I'll forgive him. I always do.

I return his smile, letting him off the hook, and he tucks the flower behind my left ear, brushing my hair away while he does. I flinch, waiting for his reaction.

"Holy shit, Naya!"

I push away from him, hurt, and yank the flower out of my hair. "Yeah, I know. Thanks a lot."

He grabs my arm, spinning me back around. His fingers move across my face, tracing the outline of the shadow. I resist the urge to flinch at the throb his touch causes.

"Your beautiful face," he whispers in my ear. "I don't like it." He kisses the top of my head. "Guess we'll order in," he says.

"Good idea," I say, squirming out of his arms and pulling my hair back over my face.

Seth orders a pizza and we curl up on my bed. He turns on the TV.

I don't know if it's the sound of the rain on the window or the humdrum drone of the sports show he's watching that causes my eyes to droop, but all too soon they close, and I slip deep inside my worst nightmare; the night that changed everything.

The torment comes in pieces, fragmented and jagged, much like my memory of that night. It starts in the rain—it always starts in that damn cold and unforgiving rain. It hammers on the top of the car, effectively drowning out the hushed argument my parents are having in the front seat about the sudden wash-out conditions the rain has caused.

My stomach is twisted into knots, somehow sensing the worst is about to happen. The sheets of rain coming down have completely obscured the road ahead. Their argument continues. A bolt of lightning flashes, turning the night sky bright white, and a feeling of absolute panic fills me. I have to stop this car. I have to stop it, now, even if I have to turn the wheel myself.

With shaking fingers, I brush against the release button of my seat belt, but I'm not permitted to push it because that's when it happens. The blinding headlights, the angry crunch of metal, the agonized voices of my parents, and the blood. Dark and metallic smelling. Bits of my parents splattered across the smashed windshield.

That's when the screaming always begins.

"Naya! Wake up!" I'm shaken back to life by Seth. Gasping for breath, I shove that final image of my parents back into the vault, where it belongs.

"What the hell was that?"

"Bad dream," I squeak.

"I'd say. Damn, you got a set a lungs on you!" He gives me a tight squeeze before he gets off the bed. "I'm gonna pick up the pizza."

He plants a quick kiss on my cheek and then disappears.

I'm relieved to have a moment to myself to regroup. Time to pull myself back together; time to wrap my arms around my chest, swaying from side to side in the feeble attempt to rock myself sane. But it doesn't work. It never does. All I can see is my mother's head lodged into the windshield, my father's broken body hunched over the steering wheel. My stomach lurches. I grab my shower stuff and run to the bathroom, making it there just in time.

Showering off the smell of vomit, I hurry back surprised to find Seth isn't back yet. I slide into my p.j.'s and towel off my hair, rubbing my lavender lotion into my arms, going through the motions of normalcy when the smell of pizza wafts inside. Its aroma brings me back to the present and allows me just enough time to put on my well-rehearsed 'happy face.'

"Yum," I whisper as Seth shuts my door.

"I agree. You look good enough to eat," he says coyly, tossing the pizza down on my desk before sauntering over to me. He scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the bed.

"Sorry, I took so long. I forgot my wallet back at the dorms, and when I got there, John had a few guys over, so I stayed for a few minutes to say hi," he murmurs, planting a deep kiss on me. And a few drinks, I notice as the taste of stale beer registers on my lips. His hands start moving down my body, skillfully sneaking them under my shirt.

"The pizza will get cold," I say, pushing away from him.

Seth groans, but slides his hand out of my shirt, crawls off the bed and grabs the pizza box. We eat in silence watching some stupid reality show.

An hour later, Seth leaves, saying he has homework to do, but I can't help but think that he just wants another beer.

#  Chapter 6

Etash

By the time I get home from the grocery store, make dinner and call my folks, it's late but not late enough for sleep to take me, hostage. So I haul out my books and dig into my homework, starting with my Directing syllabus first: three chapters to read and then a 1500 word essay on the challenges new directors face and how to overcome them. Piece of cake.

It was the Public Speaking course that was going to do me in. There is absolutely no reason for a director to have to take public speaking classes. Sure, you have to talk to your casts, but it's hardly the same thing as standing up in front of a group of your peers mumbling your way through Robert Frost.

After about three hours of non-stop reading and typing, my eyes are killing me. Hopefully, I can now pass out from exhaustion and fall straight into oblivion.

But I don't. Instead, I get sucked into nightmares. The boyfriend, Mr. Macho Man, is in the dream with Naya beside him. He's got his thick, fat hands wrapped around her, practically smothering her with his lips. As his hands run down her arms, then under her shirt, a rage builds inside my helpless sleeping body.

Although I want to tear my eyes away from this torment, I am transfixed by her; her eyes are closed—peaceful. For a moment, her face gets obscured as Seth tears off her shirt. Her body flops clumsily back to the bed as he pulls his shirt off and undoes his pants. I am disgusted. He rips off her pants and as he does she seems to flail around in his arms like a rag doll. _Why hasn't she opened her eyes yet?_

Seth mounts himself on top of her, thrusting himself into her limp body over and over again, causing her head to tip back and her eyelids to open just enough for me to see that they have rolled back into her head. Son of a bitch! She's not conscious.

"Get off of her!" I scream, frothing with rage into the early morning light of my very empty bedroom.

An intense and irrational urge to protect her washes over me. But what, exactly, am I supposed to protect her from? My bad dreams?

Throwing off my covers, I storm into the bathroom to try and let the hot water rinse away the images of her with him. When that doesn't work, I decide I just have to chill out, and the only way I can effectively do that is in the dance studio.

Because it's early Friday morning all of the studios, save the first one, are deserted. The largest studio has a small group of dancers that are all upperclassmen. None of them take any notice of me as I slip past them and head over to the smallest studio upstairs. It was once used exclusively by the dance instructors, then later abandoned altogether after the newer studios were added a few years ago.

Perfectly content within the solitude of this room, I put a CD into the sound system and attempt to dance myself numb.

The minutes fly by and my muscles plead with me to stop; to catch my breath, but I ignore them. Dancing has been the only thing that has successfully succeeded so far in taking my mind off Naya; off Seth's hands manhandling her. With my nostrils flared in fury, I push off the floor, spinning until my mind is swimming, until my body finally collapses onto the floor.

As I lie there panting, the room still spinning, I see a faint flicker of gold light dancing just above me. Whoa. Time to eat.

Peeling my limp body off the floor, I trudge off to the showers, cursing at my sore muscles with each painful step.

After downing two trays of food at the cafeteria, I have just enough time to hobble across campus to buy the book for my next class: Mythology.

All theatre majors are required to take four years of mythology because of the close connection myth has with theatre. Freshman year it was Greek Mythology. This year it's Ancient Mythology.

At the bookstore, I flip open the textbook and leaf through the pages, trying to get an idea of what specific myths the class will cover. The book is broken down by culture: Native American, Chinese, and a slew of others, but it's the Hindu myths that have piqued my interest.

I turn to the page listed, instantly recognizing some of the popular names of Hindu's many gods.

I'm ashamed to admit that I don't know as much about the myths as I should, being half-Hindu. Up until this very moment, I'd never cared about my American father's insistence on my Catholic upbringing. Now, I wish he hadn't forbidden my mother from teaching me anything about her faith. He wouldn't be at all pleased by the bits I've picked from Grams' scattered memory since she's been in the states.

That's when I remember something Grams used to tease me about in high school. I wonder if there's anything about that in here?

Looking at the book again, there's the obvious stuff: the common Hindu gods, their wives and children, but what I'm searching for is something different.

I'm about to shut the book in frustration when an illustration of a naked man and woman embracing catches my eye. It's not their nudity that has me holding my breath. The pair are clearly enraptured by each other, but neither seem to notice that their hands and feet have melded together to form a brilliant, golden flame. The caption beneath the photo says simply: Twin Flames. A shiver runs up my spine. My eyes scan urgently to the definition.

Twin Flames

Often confused with Soul Mates, which are believed to be souls we have met and lived with for many lifetimes as lovers, mothers, fathers, friends and other close people in one's lives. Twin Flames or Twin Rays, however, are believed to be the other half of your soul.

It is thought, by some, that when your soul enters the 'physical world,' it divides in half: one part male, one part female. Each half of the soul can then spend an eternity searching for its other half. Neither half feeling whole until its flame is found.

My blood goes cold. That is what Grams used to tease me about! She always said I was waiting for my Twin. I never really believed her, until now.

Skipping class, I head straight for the library, looking up everything I can about Twin Flames. My internet search brings up 493,000 hits. This may take some time.

After about an hour of sifting through the hits, much of what I find is along the same lines of what my mythology book described. Over half of the sites are advertisements for books on the subject. A few sites are so hokey that I can't lower myself to read them. I finally give up in frustration.

My feet find their way back to the theatre by instinct afterwards, but my head is lost inside a cloud of golden fire.

It's Elizabeth's stare, waiting for me in the hallway when I arrive, that pulls me back to the present.

"Am I late?" I ask.

"No, you're right on time," she says, looping her arm around me. "I have a little bonding game I want to play." She pulls off a dark scarf that's draped around her neck and starts to wrap it around my eyes.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

She laughs. "Come on, don't be a poor sport. Trust me."

Relenting, I let her finish off the tie. I can't see a thing.

"Can you see?" she asks.

"No. Now, why is this stupid thing on me?"

"I'll explain everything inside." She grabs my arm and starts to slowly guide me into the theatre. Or at least, that's where I hope she's leading me.

Naya

Friday night's rehearsal comes before I'm ready. Not knowing what our rehearsal will entail, I opt for movable clothes. Kicking off my jeans, I open my closet and make a face. My options are limited. I have the black sweats I wore for the audition and two pairs of leggings; black and dark blue: all of which will match my face perfectly.

After trying on all three options, I settle on the black leggings and a simple gray T-shirt. This choice feels the most frumpy, and that, I rationalize, is a good thing.

I check my reflection again, thinking that somehow the ugly brownish, yellow trail will have disappeared since I looked at it ten minutes ago. But the bruise just looks back at me; mockingly.

When I poke my head into the black box theatre, I find Mrs. Campbell on the stage floor, stretching her graceful body into pretzels. As I glance around the space, I'm surprised to see that the chairs have been removed from their neat lines and have been scattered around the place like a stampede of wild horses had just run through here. This should be interesting. Swallowing my reservations, I walk quietly into the room, trying not to disturb her.

"Naya!" she beams the moment I set down my bag on one of the wayward chairs.

"Professor Campbell."

"Please, call me Elizabeth while we're working on the show together, alright?" She pulls herself up and walks over to me, her eyes landing on my face. Take a good look. I'm a monster, and you cast me. But she doesn't grimace; she smiles instead.

"I'm glad you're here, and early. I wanted to try an experiment tonight and I wasn't sure how it would work if you both showed up here at the same time. Since you're here first, you get the easy part!" she says smiling at me in that annoying 'I know something you don't know' way.

She takes my hand and leads me carefully around the maze of chairs to the back of the theatre, which normally holds the longest row of chairs. She positions me in a corner so I'm facing the stage. Confusion spreads across my face.

She smiles and places her hands on both of my shoulders. "This is an acting game one of my professors taught me. I have found it works really well for breaking the ice, which is exactly what I think we need here." If she is trying to clarify her intentions with that explanation, she's failing miserably.

"Your job is easy. All you have to do is stand here and be quiet." She gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze. "I'm going out to the hall to catch Etash before he sees where I've put you." That knowing grin spreads across her face again. I groan softly as she weaves in and out of the chairs to the door.

"Ah, ah, ah! No noise," she warns before disappearing from the room. What on earth is she planning? She closes the door loudly behind her and it echoes in the empty room.

With only the dull hum of the lights above, I'm left alone in silence, which starts to make me nervous. Several minutes pass before I hear some quiet argument outside. It could only be Etash and Prof—no, Elizabeth. I can't help but grin when I hear Etash's muffled protests at whatever game she has in store. My grin fades and my body tenses automatically when the stage door opens.

"Naya," Elizabeth's voice comes from out in the hall, "remember not to move or make a sound or this won't work."

After a few seconds, she comes into view. She's dragging Etash by his arm into the theatre. No, strike that. She is guiding him to the stage because she has him blindfolded. Now I'm completely lost.

Once Etash is center stage she lets go of his arm and takes a few cautious steps back.

"Etash, I have rearranged the chairs in the room. The house chairs are now scattered about the entire space. I have positioned Naya somewhere in the room. Your job is to try and find her and not a chair."

She is positively giddy at the brilliance of her idea. "But go slowly. I don't want you to hurt yourself, but do try and 'sense' where she is in the space. When you think you've gotten close, raise your hand. We'll take off the blindfold and see how close—or how far away—you are."

This is not a bonding game; this is stupid. The only objective is to make fun of the hunter, to show how far away he is from his prey.

Elizabeth slides quietly into one of the chairs on the stage. She pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs, as though hiding.

Etash's reluctance at being forced into being the guinea pig in this twisted game is written all over his blindfolded face. After a couple of stubborn moments, he takes a few heavy steps forward, causing him to crash into one of the chairs just in front of him. Something obscene escapes his lips, and I hold back a smile. A few more cautious steps move him toward Elizabeth. She's pleased with his misdirection. I shake my head and let out the tiniest of sighs, furious at her for putting him through this humiliation.

That's when the unexpected happens. Etash stops his once cautious movements in mid-step. Slowly, his blindfolded eyes turn to the exact spot where he would meet my eyes if he could see. He turns away from Elizabeth, tilts his head to the side briefly, inhales, then starts marching in my direction, not hitting a single chair.

"Etash, slow down, you're going to hurt yourself," Elizabeth cautions.

It's true, he isn't being careful at all. He's walking faster than even a sighted person would be among all of these scattered chairs.

Elizabeth is on her feet now, steps behind Etash; her eyes are filled with concern. This was _not_ how the game was supposed to go down.

As he inches closer to me, a throbbing ache marches in time with my heart, spreading the pain out to my rib cage, then to my lungs. The pressure building inside my chest is crushing me, making it almost impossible to breathe. I need air; I need help; I need...him.

If I want this agony to stop, I need to be closer to Etash, not further away.

Ignoring all reason or thought, I find my legs moving towards him as he makes his way to me. I need to rip off his blindfold and look into his dark eyes and soothe him. I need to reach out and touch his hand to let him know he has found me. But just as I am about to reach out to take his hand, his finds mine, and in that instant, the pain is gone, and I am undone. The heat of his touch shoots through my body with a slow, soothing current. His skin on mine feels like a shot of morphine, warm and addictive.

He slowly raises our intertwined hands in the air and whispers. "I found her."

"So you have," Elizabeth gasps from somewhere behind us.

Etash

I yank off the blindfold unable to stand not being able to see her another second. I find her eyes first, they are kind and about to overflow with tears. Then I take in her beautiful face, which is now marked with angry bruises that do, in fact, mirror my scar. My hand reaches up and gently caresses her face, as though willing it to heal with my touch. She doesn't flinch away but instead presses her head lightly against it.

It would be so easy for me to lower my head and press my lips to hers, to purge this craving raging inside me, but then I remember. I remember that I'm only pretending to be her 'love' for the stage. And that is just not going to be enough for me.

With great control, I pry my hand out of hers, trying to ignore the pain that rushes in afterwards.

"I can't do this," I say through gritted teeth. I don't have the strength to merely pretend to be in love with this girl. "Not with her," I whisper to Elizabeth, who stares at me, dumbfounded.

I crash out of the room toppling over chairs as I go. I'm being a jackass, but I'm just so mad at myself and at life for letting me find someone I can't ever hope to have.

Barging into Elizabeth's office, I sink down onto the couch and wait for her to come in. I don't have to wait long because after a few minutes I feel Naya leave, so I expect Elizabeth to come back to her office. But after about five minutes, she hasn't returned so I go and search for her.

I find her still in the theatre, hunched over the table, her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry," I say.

She looks up from the table. "What was that just now? How did you know where she was?"

"I don't know," I confess. "I just...felt her."

Elizabeth pushes up from her desk. "I knew you were right for this part."

"No. No, I'm not. I can't play Romeo."

"Etash..."

"I'm not going to bend on this one, Elizabeth."

"But..."

"No. I can't. Not with her. I just can't. I lose control when I'm that close to her, and I don't trust myself." I hang my head, ashamed. "I'm sorry."

Elizabeth touches my arm. "I had no idea you felt this way about her."

I contemplate denying my feelings, but I'm so weak and vulnerable that I just admit the truth. "Neither did I."

She shakes her head, but then looks back at me, worry setting in. "Does this mean I lose you as my AD too?"

I know I should say yes; make a clean break from her, but the thought of not, at least, being able to see her every day, feels like more than I could bear.

"I'd still like to be your Assistant Director." She sighs in relief. "As long as you understand," I continue, "that I need to keep my distance from her."

"You can position yourself at the back of the house during rehearsals? Could that work?" I nod slowly. She gestures for me to come with her to her office, but I shake my head. My body has suddenly started to shake. Cautiously, I step back several paces. Naya is near.

And sure enough, a moment later, the door opens and she's there.

"I forgot my bag," Naya says, looking at both of us like she'd rather have a root canal than retrieve that damn bag.

"I'm glad you did," Elizabeth says. "I need to talk to you about tomorrow's rehearsal. Would you be free to meet at 4:00 instead of 6:00?"

"Um, sure, I guess. I have Fridays off," Naya replies shifting her weight back and forth on her feet.

"Good." Elizabeth turns her focus to me. "Etash, can you see if Zach, Ben, and Eric can come then too? Anyone else you think we should ask?"

She's talking about Romeo replacements and I don't like any of the names she's mentioned. "What about Thomas?" I suggest. Thomas is gay, which may or may not play a part in my suggestion.

"Thomas? Really...I hadn't thought of him, but you're right, he might be good," she says.

"Good for what?" Naya asks.

Elizabeth lets out a small laugh. "That's right, Naya, you don't know what we're talking about."

She puts her arm over Naya's shoulder, like a mama hen comforting her chick.

"Etash and I just talked." Naya looks at me, and in her eyes, I can see her confusion. "I'm afraid I was a bit selfish," Elizabeth explains. "I didn't respect Etash's wishes to want to direct and sort of forced him into acting. And that was wrong of me. Therefore, Etash will no longer be playing your Romeo."

Naya looks at me, surprisingly crestfallen.

"It's for the best," I say softly, unsure if I'm trying to convince her, or myself.

She just looks at me with an expression I can't understand. Almost hurt.

"Naya, try and understand," I whisper. How do I tell her I simply can't pretend to love her?

Naya

He can't even look at me. He's embarrassed. Embarrassed for me. He stops himself before he can finish what he was going to say: 'Naya, try and understand, I just don't feel that way about you.' Suddenly, I see myself as he must see me; as a pathetic little girl who can't handle the rejection of a boy. My throat feels thick because it's true. I can't take rejection, at least, I realize, not from him.

Before I'm humiliated even further, I nod my head slowly, and back out of the theatre. I break into a run once

I hit the outside, needing to find the safety of my room before my tears have a chance to fall.

As soon as I'm inside, I close and lock the door and lean against it, as if I'm holding it closed from an unwanted intruder.

In the dimness of my room, I still feel terribly uneasy—shaky, panicky. I need my meds. Now. Scrambling, I find my bag and start rifling inside searching for one of the bottles, but I can't seem to find it, which only makes me panic more.

Stars begin dancing across my eyes, and my heart is already sprinting. Shit! It's coming too fast for them to work now. I can already tell that I won't be allowed the easy way out. I won't be fortunate enough to pass simply out until the panic passes. No, tonight I am to be tortured.

The only thing to do now is wait for it to be over. But not here. It's not dark enough here. Not safe enough, yet.

With trembling hands, I open my closet door and close it behind me, and the darkness welcomes me back like an old friend. As though I can't trust the door to stay closed, I hold the handle firmly shut with one hand while the other hand wraps around my chest, trying to control the shaking that's starting to consume me. The shaking will give way to the moaning, which will quickly turn into screams, so I pull down a few shirts from the clothes rack and cram them into my mouth to stifle the impending hysteria. As though waiting for me to be ready, my long caged tears begin to fall.

I cry out for my parents, out of humiliation, out of regret, but most of all, I cry out of wanting. A want so desperately basic and pure, and yet devastatingly unattainable: to be allowed to feel something other than the numbness. I want to remember being loved and to able to give that love back. Curling up into a ball, I let the depression devour me, ravish me, doing absolutely nothing to stand in its way.

Etash

The look in her eyes...the look of absolute panic that swept across her face as she backed out of the theatre has left me terribly unsettled. I've spent the last few hours of the night pacing in my apartment trying to shake a building numbness that is crawling up my spine. But the more I pace, the worse the feeling gets. An overwhelming sense of despair clings to me with every step I take.

As the minutes tick by, everything in my apartment starts to feel painfully bright against the starry night. Even after I turn off all of my lights, a bizarre sensation to find darkness consumes me.

My feet lead me to, of all places, my closet. My hand trembles on the doorknob for a moment before I fling it open. The darkness is strangely inviting. I step into my coat closet and I close the door, shutting out the light. Instantly, I start to tremble in the coolness of the unheated space, but can't seem to will myself to open the door and seek warmth.

Before I even know they are there, tears start rolling down my face. I am crying like a baby, and I have absolutely no idea why.

#  Chapter 7

Naya

Somewhere during the night, between the anger and the anguish, morning arrives.

It's the annoying chirping sound of my dorm phone pulsing obnoxiously against the wall that finally forces my eyelids to open. Still securely confined inside my darkened prison, I moan. How long had I been asleep? I shift my weight slightly, pushing away a dress dangling in my face. My head throbs and my muscles are stiff. My eyes are puffy and swollen and feel as though I have been crying for hours. I probably have.

A phone rings again, but this time, it's my cell. I don't move to answer it, though. It's Seth's ring-tone. He's called countless times during the night. I know I'll have to pay for not picking up, but I just don't have the strength to move right now.

A small beam of light comes in through the space at the bottom of my closet door and hits me square in the eye. There's a boot jamming angrily into my back, and that tiny pressure against my spine brings with it the unnerving reality of last night's episode. And I feel ashamed: ashamed that I'm going through this, again.

And that does it. I'm now pissed at myself for allowing the depression to suck me under. I stand up, ignoring my protesting muscles and open the door, letting the morning sunlight blind me; awaken me. I take a deep sobering breath _. It's okay; you're safe now_. _You're not alone. You have Seth._

His ring tone goes off again. Knowing it's dangerous to put him off any longer, I pick up my cell.

"Hello. I'm fine," I say quickly, trying to put him at ease. My voice is weak and hoarse.

"Where are you?" he demands.

I clear my throat. "I'm in my room."

There's a silence on the end of the line. "Are you alone?" he asks.

"Seth...I..." I'm so focused on trying to explain why I hadn't called, that I don't really hear his question until a moment later. Wait. Did he just ask if I was alone?

"I'm coming over," he says, then the line goes dead.

Okay. I wasn't planning on having to talk to him, or anyone, quite so soon after my breakdown. His dorm is only about three blocks from mine, so that gives me about seven minutes to think about what I'm going to say to him.

I briefly contemplate telling him the truth, but that will show weakness, and Seth hates weakness. Which means I'll have to lie.

I have just enough time to run to the bathroom and wash my tear-streaked face, pull a comb through my hair and brush my teeth before he is pounding on the door. So much for getting out of my p.j.'s.

I only open the door a crack; afraid to look in his eyes, not sure how angry he's going to be. He misinterprets my hesitation to let him in as something else completely.

"Naya? Is someone in there?" His eyes are hot.

My eyes widen with shock.

"What? Seth, no. There's no one here," I reply.

"Then why aren't you opening the door?" He is positively fuming now. He pushes past me before I can get a word out and storms into my very empty room. His bloodshot eyes scan the room, hunting.

"Happy?" I ask through my teeth, put off by his accusation. I assume that no warm bodies in the room will appease him, but it doesn't. He marches over to my messy bed and throws back the covers. Finding it empty, he searches underneath it before he whirls around, glares at me, then heads for my closet.

He catches a tiny shift in my eyes and his fists clench. Pushing me aside he rips open the door and I hold my breath. When he doesn't see anyone standing inside, he hesitates for a second before stepping inside. He then proceeds to tear my closet apart.

The clothes stop flying after a few crazy seconds and then it gets very quiet. The look on Seth's face as he emerges from my closet shakes me. His large chest is heaving in frantic jolts. One of his hands is pinched to the bridge of his nose. He's crying.

Guilt takes over and I rush over to him and lace my arms around him, trying desperately to soothe him. His strong arms wrap around me and hold me tight.

"Naya, when you didn't answer your phone last night, I thought something happened to you." He kisses the top of my head softly and strokes my hair, the way my mother used to as a child. "Then when you answered my call this morning, I thought you'd be in the hospital or something, but you were in your room...I guess my mind jumped to the wrong conclusion. I'm sorry." He pulls my face back to look me in the eyes. "Forgive me," he whispers.

"There's nothing to forgive." I reach up and kiss him softly. "If anything I should be asking you for your forgiveness," I say, pulling gently away from him. Seth grabs my hand before I can break away.

"Where _were_ you?" His eyes are pleading with me.

"Here," I say, simply.

His eyebrows pull together. "Then why didn't you answer your phone? I called your room and your cell, at least, a dozen times!"

Here it was, the moment of truth, and I was going to lie through my teeth.

"I had a tough rehearsal last night and I ended up with a migraine," I whisper, not able to look him in the eye.

"A migraine?" He doesn't sound convinced.

"Yeah, I haven't had one this bad since...the accident. It hit hard and fast. So, I came home, downed some Tylenol PM, turned off all of the lights and my phones. I just needed it dark and quiet." I bite my lip, hoping he'll take the bait.

His eyes lighten a touch. "You don't know how worried I was." He pulls me tight against his arms. The worst of it is over, I think, so I allow myself a small grin.

"I know. And I'm so sorry." He lifts my feet off the ground and kisses the nape of my neck. "Thank you for being so understanding," I say into his chest.

He pushes me back down and looks me in the eye. "Just because I understand, doesn't mean you're forgiven. You should have called me. You should have answered your damn phone! That's why I bought it for you." Seth walks over to my door and locks it, then closes the blinds. "Now take off your shirt," he orders, slipping off his belt.

My eyes glaze over. My body shifts into autopilot. I pull my shirt over my head causing my dark hair to cover my face. The warning crack of his belt sounds so I sink down to my knees and grab the handles of my bureau. Shifting my weight to find my center of gravity, Etash's smile flickers once against my closed eyes, and I gasp.

"I should give you 12 lashes," he whispers, hot against my ear, "one for each call you didn't answer." He straightens up and takes a deep breath. "But since it's a school day, I'll only give you six."

I know I should be scared, but I'm not. I'm just...sad. The first lash comes without his normal warning and I have to hold back a scream that almost escapes. There is just enough time to shove a pair of socks into my mouth and hang on again before the next one comes. By the fourth lash, he's found his rhythm, and so have I. My back has gone numb, along with my mind, so by number six, I don't even flinch.

Etash

When I wake up in the morning I feel completely and utterly drained of all emotion. Like someone has sucked out every ounce of happiness I've ever felt. Opening the closet door, the sun assaults me and I shiver against its warmth.

Stumbling out, I feel my way to the bathroom and take a long hot shower trying to coax the blood back into the muscles of my upper back. Sleeping in the closet must have done a hell of a number on it. I can't believe how raw and sore it feels.

My stomach growls when I limp out of the shower, but as I start to make breakfast, I feel uneasy again. I opt to get out of my apartment and hit the cafeteria for breakfast instead.

Once there, I pour myself an enormous cup of coffee, which is strange, because I don't typically care for it. I load my plate with a bowl of granola and some fruit and make my way to the tables when I hear my name being called from across the cafeteria.

"Yo, Etash! Over here!" It's Seth. He's with Naya, and he's waving me over to their table. I see panic flood into her eyes, but I can't stop my feet from walking over to them.

"Etash, man, thanks for coming over," Seth says.

"Uh, sure. No problem."

Naya's hands jump to her chair, as though she's holding herself down. Seth doesn't appear to notice.

"Have a seat," he says, kicking out a chair with his foot." Not sure what else to do, I sit.

"So, I never got a chance to properly thank you for helping out Naya the other day."

I don't tell him I didn't have a choice in the matter.

"I was happy to help."

Naya eyes are glued to her toast. Her lips form a hard thin line. She is clearly upset by my presence.

"So, Naya tells me you quit the show?" He says with a smirk, forking an entire sausage link into his mouth, clearly pleased. He thinks I left because I was threatened by him.

"He's still the Assistant Director," Naya says, looking up at me for the first time. I'm struck by how pale and ashen her skin looks this morning.

"Really?" Seth mumbles through a mouth full of food probably annoyed that he didn't get rid of me completely. He takes a swig of milk and studies me for a moment before he says, "That's a hell of a scar you got. How did you get it?"

Naya looks up at me wide-eyed, apologetic.

"Accident," I say, taking a sip of the bitter coffee.

Seth nods his head and forks a hunk of pancake in his mouth. "So I heard you guys had a tough rehearsal last night?"

"It was?" I ask, carefully avoiding Naya's eyes, but do notice that she's keeping her back ram-rod straight.

"That's what I hear. So, since you're the Director and all," Seth begins.

"Assistant Director," I clarify.

"My apologies. Assistant Director. Can you do me a favor?" Seth asks.

"I can try," I say, confused by what he would possibly ask from me.

He leans over to me, holding his knife a little too close to my face, and I see a glint in his eyes.

"Take it easy on my girl."

"What?" Naya and I say at the same time.

Seth turns to look at her, and starts rubbing her shoulder and she flinches as though she's in pain, but he doesn't notice, or care, and keeps rubbing. It's all I can do not to rip his arm off.

"You must run some tough rehearsals for a pro like Naya to get so worked up. She came home with a pretty bad migraine last night."

She had a migraine?

"Did you take her to the Nurse?" I demand, surprised by how possessive my voice sounds.

"It was just a headache," Seth says slowly.

"Yeah, a headache right after she lost consciousness and hit her head!" I snap back at him.

"I'm fine," Naya shouts. A small whimper escapes her lips as she stands up. "I need more coffee." She grabs her untouched cup and leaves.

Seth eyes me suspiciously as I watch her walk away. "She pulled a muscle last night in her back, so you take it easy on her tonight. You got that?"

I'm only half listening to him as I watch her go past the coffee machines, ditch her mug and disappear out of the cafeteria.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a class to get to," I say, pushing away.

"Sure," he says as I stand up. His gentle smile turns lethal.

"But if you hurt my girl again, you will be sorry."

Naya

I can't go back to that table. I just can't. If Seth was to even suspect that I was thinking some of the irrational thoughts I was of Etash...well, I don't even want to think about it. The way my back is throbbing now is enough of a warning for me to stay far away from Etash.

I text Seth a message saying that my back hurts and I need to lie down. He'd not only believe that he'd expect it, and probably feel proud. But I can't go back to my room. I need my sanctuary. I need the stage.

Walking into the complex, I keep my eyes on the floor, not wanting to meet the gaze of any of the other students lingering in the hallways. I rush past the black box stages—I can't go there. That place is tainted now. I need a safe place; a place free of pain.

I head straight for the main stage, worrying offhandedly that it might be in use. Opening the double doors to the theatre, I find it dark inside. I close my eyes in relief.

My hand fumbles around the wall until I find the house lights; a warm glow instantly fills the theatre. There is just enough spill from the house lights to illuminate my altar.

Reverently, I make my way down the center aisle and up the side stairs to the stage floor. The lush velvet red curtains are pulled closed leaving only a few feet of stage floor exposed, but I don't care. I'll take what I can get.

Running my fingers along the heavy curtain brings instant relief. My breathing slows, my heart finds its normal rhythm, and all the hairs on my arms are laying flat, just as they're supposed to be. I take a deep, healing breath in. This is my little piece of heaven. No one can hurt me here.

Sinking down to the floor carefully, I rub my hands along the floorboards. I yank my hoodie off, flinching as the fabric brushed against my back. I roll it into a ball and shove it under my head and I lie down carefully on my side. I put one arm over my eyes and bend my knees to my chest, forming a tight protective ball.

Etash

Once I get outside, her scent has grown cold. I debate on heading back to her dorm, but my gut tells me she won't be there, not where he could find her. On a hunch, I head for the theatre. Perhaps the stage is her refuge, just as the dance studio is mine.

The closer I get to the theatre, the more confident I feel. She's in here. Now I just have to find where.

I check the black box first but find it empty. Of course, she's not here. This place would only remind her of me, and she doesn't want to think about me. I try the Main Stage next.

Racing up the stairwell to the theatre, my senses come alive. I can already pick up her lavender lotion.

A trickle of light coming from underneath the doors to the theatre suddenly go out, and I smile. She knows I'm here, and she's trying to hide from me.

I open the door and step inside. The sunlight pours in from behind me into the darkness, but I can't make her out in the shadows.

"Naya, I know you're in here." She doesn't answer me. "I can feel you," I admit.

Still, she doesn't make a sound.

Fine, I'll find you. I move my hand along the wall, searching for the light switch. The house lights come up and my body jumps. She's standing right in front of the light switch.

"Naya," I gasp, instantly consumed by her pull. She opens her eyes, like a frightened child, but I can do nothing to calm her fears.

I close my eyes and will myself to step back from her. When her pull against me lessens, I stop and open my eyes again.

"We need to talk," I say, trying to catch my breath.

"Fine," she whispers. "You stay there; I'm going to walk further away so I can think better."

I nod in agreement. Distance is good.

She walks to the stage, hops up to the lip and sits down, flinching again.

"Okay. Talk," she says.

"You're hurt," I say. Her eyes get wide for a moment, then narrow.

"Yeah, I scraped my back on something in my closet." She's a horrible liar.

"Oh yeah? Your boyfriend said you pulled a muscle." Her head whips up to look at me.

"What do you want?" she hisses. She's covering up for that bastard. My body starts shaking with rage.

Naya

He's not saying anything. He's just standing there looking all God-like, and asking questions I'm not prepared to answer. So I try to change the subject.

"Why did you quit the show?" I demand.

He raises his head and glares at me. A look of complete confusion washes over his face.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"Apparently, I do."

He shifts his weight and brings his hands through his thick, dark curls before answering. "Have you been awake the last few days?" His voice is coated with anger. He stands and turns his back to me, like he is trying to reign himself in. "I can't get near you, Naya," he says almost in a whimper.

"Why?" I can't help wonder aloud, "What's wrong with me?"

Spinning around, he starts barreling down the aisle toward me, stopping only when he gets about two feet away from me. His face crumples in pain. A small moan escapes his lips.

The need from before returns, begging me to go to him. Officially having lost all control of my limbs, my body pushes itself off the stage, propelling me closer to him.

Our bodies inch cautiously toward the other, stopping just shy of embracing. Even though we aren't physically touching, I can still feel the heat of his body rolling off him in waves. It is positively hypnotic, and like nothing I've ever felt before.

His face leans in toward mine so painfully slow that I'm positive I'll pass out in anticipation. Etash brings his lips close to my ear; his cheek nearly brushes mine. The current passing through my limbs is electric. My whole body feels like a live wire.

"This is why I can't be your Romeo," he whispers softly into my ear. His breath is like fire against my neck. It makes my mouth water. "Can't you understand that? You steal away my will to do _anything_ but be close to you."

My entire body is pulsing under my skin at the sound of his voice and my hands begin to tremble. All I have to do is move any part of my body just an inch and I could easily fall into his arms and happily stay there forever.

As though he can sense what I'm thinking, he pulls away from me, and my heart cries out in protest. His eyes are closed as he clenches his teeth together. Then, without warning, he turns and is gone.

At the sound of the door closing, my knees buckle and I hit the floor, further bruising my back, but I don't care. Succumbing to the emptiness that now floods into my chest, I close my eyes. Etash is right. We could not get close to each other. It is far too dangerous, for both of us.

#  Chapter 8

Etash

As I run out of the theatre, my limbs are shaking and my insides ache. Fighting the screaming voices in my head to go back to her, I slip up the stairwell and head for the dance studio, and for the next few hours, I dance. Angry, fast, frustrated dancing that leaves me weak, winded and devoid of all emotion. Just what I was searching for.

After I shower, I put in my hours at the bookstore, reveling in the mind-numbing monotony of stocking shelves. Inhaling a sandwich at the student center, I spread my books across a table and finish up my choreography notes before I have to meet Elizabeth for Romeo recasting.

We've got four guys coming in this afternoon to choose from, but based on their previous audition, I know any one of them will be a poor choice.

A bit before four, Elizabeth and I head over to the black box and find them all, huddled together in a little cluster. I frown. One of them is going to do the job I can't. Gritting my teeth, I take a seat safely in the back as Elizabeth sets herself up at the director's table close to the stage.

Sulking in my darkened corner, my heart starts beating fast with recognition.

"Naya's here," I announce. Elizabeth turns to face an empty hallway. Although she hasn't entered the black box yet, I know she's there, just outside the door. A moment later, the door opens and Naya enters. She's wearing a Red Sox T-shirt over her dark leggings and I shake my head: I'm a Yankees man.

"You're here! Wonderful. Have you met all the guys?" Elizabeth asks Naya, showcasing the men like Vanna White.

"Um, I know Ben, from class, but not the others," she says.

"Well, this is Zach, Eric," Elizabeth says, pointing at each of them, "and this is Tom."

"Thomas," he corrects quietly. I like Thomas.

Elizabeth runs her hands together, anxious to begin.

"Well, now that we know one another, why don't we get started?" They all start moving up to the stage, not sure what to do.

"Okay, Naya, I just want you to go and stand next to each of the men, one at a time. I want to see how the two of you look next to each other before we do anything else," Elizabeth instructs.

Awkwardly, Naya makes her way to Zach, who is closest to her, and stands beside him. Elizabeth walks to the back of the house and takes a seat next to me. She leans in and whispers, "He's so tiny!"

"Yeah, but his bouffant could probably be poofed up, at least, another few inches," I whisper back. She slaps her hand over her mouth, covering her laugh.

The rest of the pairings aren't much better and I can tell Elizabeth isn't happy because her scowl grows deeper with each grouping.

"I'm going to put on some music," Elizabeth tries, "just move about the space as your character and see what happens. Guys, I'm going to call you up one at a time.

Naya, just stay up there and go with the flow." She hits play and soft piano music fills the small space. It's slow and gentle, easy to move to, but Naya remains stiff.

"Relax, Naya," I say, wanting her to feel comfortable.

Her nostrils flare in aggravation, but then, almost as an act of defiance, she relaxes her posture and starts moving beside Zach. Their pairing is not the least bit romantic, but that doesn't stop me from hating that he's so close to her.

"Ben, you're next," Elizabeth says after a few minutes. Zach kisses the back of Naya's hand as he exits. I am not amused.

Big Ben, as I've named him, comes up next. If Zach is too short, Ben is too tall. He absolutely towers over her. He's all arms, legs and acne. No. He would not do, no matter how well he moved. They do an okay waltz around the floor but my teeth clench watching his arms tighten around her waist.

Thankfully, Elizabeth sends Thomas up next, and he is ever the gentleman with her. I pay no attention that he isn't very good on his feet. The fact that he poses no threat to Naya unless she grows a penis is all that really interests me.

Eric is last and my hackles are instantly raised. I don't like this guy. Not his saunter over to her, not his ugly, overpriced Gap sweater, and definitely not his stupid chiseled jaw. I take comfort at Naya's obvious repulsion to the sleazeball. Her entire body is rigid. Surely Elizabeth will see they have no chemistry. I look over and see Elizabeth leaning her hand on her chin, a small smile creeping onto her lips. She can't seriously be considering this guy? Then something shifts in Elizabeth's face which makes me turn my attention back to the stage.

Before I can even blink, Eric has moved behind Naya,and is running his hands down her arms. My fists instinctively ball up in defense, but Naya grabs his hands to stop him. Not getting the hint, he whips her around to face him, pinning her hands firmly against his chest. He leans down and plants a deep kiss on her, and I lose it.

"That's enough!" I shout, standing up so fast it causes my chair to crash to the floor. Eric looks up at me with a twinkle in his eye, mocking his confusion for Elizabeth's sake.

"Let's take five," Elizabeth says firmly, pulling at my arm. I brush her hand away. A smug grin creeps across Eric's face. Dick. Naya wipes her mouth with the back of her hand in disgust, as he hops off the stage. The others leave behind him. Naya follows last, but before she does, she finds me and gives me a small nod of thanks. Once she's gone Elizabeth starts in on me.

"What the hell was that?"

"He was groping her!" I shout back.

"Keep your voice down," she warns. "You are over-reacting. It's an audition, Etash! He was clearly trying something out, taking a risk. I thought it showed guts."

"It was unprofessional," I mutter.

"No, what's unprofessional is you stopping my audition! Let's not forget who the Director is here," she fires back.

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just...couldn't you see her struggling to break free from that creep?"

"No," she says, calming down. "What I saw was your jealousy."

I sigh, hating to admit that she's right. I grab my chair from off the floor and sink into it.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There is nothing wrong with you." Her tone is warm, motherly, which only makes me feel worse. "You're just fighting something you're not meant to fight."

"Meaning?"

"Use it, Etash. Use that energy on the stage. I'm begging you. Be her Romeo."

She still doesn't understand.

"It's not that easy, Elizabeth." She pulls out a chair and sits beside me, waiting. "I'm not in control of myself when I'm that close to her. I can't do that to her," I whisper.

She doesn't say anything because there is nothing to say. She's seen firsthand what Naya does to me. Elizabeth's eyebrows pull together in concentration, trying to problem-solve this mess. The only solution is to stay away from her. Period.

When she slaps her hands against her thighs, I jump a little.

"I think I have a compromise," she says brightly. "I want you to send the guys home until our 6:00 call, and bring Naya in. Would you do that for me?"

"What's your compromise, Elizabeth?"

She stands, lowers her hand down to me and lifts me up as well.

"We'll let her pick her Romeo. That way you'll know that she's chosen someone she'll be comfortable with. And if she's comfortable, you should be too."

A smile spreads across my face. "That just may work." She smiles brightly back at me as I head to the door to get Naya.

Naya

"Have a seat, Naya," Elizabeth instructs me after the others have gone home. Obediently, I grab a chair and sit.

"Naya," she begins, "I have a problem." She folds her hands together neatly. "You see, I have two talented actors who have this inexplicable chemistry, but both of them are refusing to use that to their advantage. So, I relented and tried to cast another Romeo. We all know how well that went."

I let out an involuntary chuckle, which makes her smile.

"So, you see...I'm stuck. And I think you can get me unstuck."

"Me? I don't understand?"

Her eyes narrow, and she leans in closer to me, as though she's about to confide a deep, dark secret.

"I need you to choose your Romeo," she says.

"What?" I look up at Etash who just nods slightly.

"I need you to pick one of the five guys," she continues. "I want you to select the man that you'll feel the most comfortable with. The rationale being that if you pick him, then Etash won't have such an issue with the whole thing and we can all play nicely together."

My brain is racing to keep up, but then something makes me slam on the brakes.

"There were only four guys here tonight, not five," I say softly, already painfully aware of where she is going with this.

"True. The four you saw and Etash."

"No! Elizabeth, you can't do that to her!" Etash hisses from the back of the house.

Elizabeth unfolds her hands and slowly crosses her legs.

"Oh. I'd forgotten you were still here," she says calmly. "You're free to go now too."

He starts to grind his teeth together, knowing he's been outfoxed.

"You don't have to do this, Naya," Etash says to me.

"Goodnight, Etash," Elizabeth smiles firmly.

Etash rips his bag from the back of his chair and storms out of the theatre, slamming the door behind him. I can feel the vibrations from the door reverberate in my chest as I try to find my voice.

"So? Who is it going to be?" she asks, tapping her fingers on her knee.

"I can't..." She can't honestly expect me to make this choice.

"Well, if you won't, then I'll have to pick Eric," she says getting up from her chair and pulling out a cell phone.

"No! Wait. Please, don't. Please, not Eric!" I plead. I can tell she has me where she wants me as a smile creeps onto her face.

"Okay. Eric's out. Who's in, Naya?"

"I know who you want me to choose...and I just can't."

"Why not?" Her face is wrinkled in confusion. "You two have a magical connection with one another, so why can't we use that? That's what we do as actors, Naya. We draw from our own experiences and use it for our characters. I mean, think about it; it was that same pull that drew Romeo and Juliet together."

"And what ultimately led them to their deaths," I mutter.

Elizabeth sighs then walks over to me, kneels down and takes my hand in a motherly sort of fashion. I shrink away automatically in response.

"I'll keep you safe. I won't push too far. Let me try and harness this energy you two have and mold it into the best performance of your life. You owe this to yourself as an actress to try. Come out of your safe zone and take some risks. Isn't that what acting is all about?"

She's right. That _is_ what acting is about: taking risks. But more importantly, I _do_ owe it to myself. I owe it to my parents. After all, it was their death that has paid for the opportunity to come here in the first place.

The quiet voice in my head that has been chanting Etash's name since the day we met won't be contained any longer. My inner voice pushes aside all of my otherwise rational thoughts and makes my lips form the sentence I never thought I'd utter.

"I want Etash."

A smile spreads across Elizabeth's face.

"You won't be sorry," she says patting my hand.

I can only hope she's right.

Etash

After I've stormed out of the theatre and into the night air, I curse to the heavens. I am completely pissed at Elizabeth. Throwing myself on one of the benches, I stew with anger. How could she do this to me?

Although I can't hear what Naya is saying inside to Elizabeth, I already know what the outcome will be. Naya's going to pick me, and I will be helpless to refuse her. I realize I'll never be able to deny her anything ever again.

When she steps outside a few minutes later, I can't bear to look at her.

"Why?" I hear myself ask.

"I don't know," she says, her voice cracking.

Standing up, I focus on a line of trees on the horizon and ask a question I'm not sure I want the answer to.

"Is it not the same for you?"

I hold my breath as I feel her take a step closer to me.

"I don't know what's happening," she says after a moment, "but whatever it is, I can't let it dictate how I'm going to live my life." Another step closer. My resolve to keep my eyes off her weakens with every step she takes.

"I came to this school to act, Etash." She takes another step closer. It's getting harder to breathe. "Too much has been sacrificed for me to be here to just...throw it away."

She's right beside me now, and my muscles are in knots, restraining themselves. She's too close.

"I'm going to take your hand now," she whispers.

My fingers instinctively ball into a fist. No. I can't touch her. I don't trust myself to be able to let her go.

"Etash, if we're going to do this, we have to be able to touch each other."

"I...I don't think I can," I say.

She takes a deep breath. "I know. That's why I'm going to do it."

"Naya," I say, starting to protest. I don't get far because our hands find their own way, unable to contain their combined need any longer. I don't even know how my hand has unclenched itself from the iron grip it was in, but it has, and it's now tucked perfectly inside hers.

I'm overwhelmed with emotion and actually hear myself gasp. Simply holding her hand, I know in my core that she is destined to be with me, and I with her. But I can't articulate it. I can't even speak. I am too consumed with the warm, pulsating current of her hand in mine.

The way they fit together seems only to confirm that this is our destiny, that we were made for each other.

We sit hand in hand, not speaking for what could have been an eternity before I'm finally able to speak.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

She smiles a big, warm smile at me. "I'm right as rain."

Her smile melts my heart, and I laugh lightly. "My Grams says that, although I don't think she has any idea what it means."

More silence.

"So what now?" she asks eventually, stroking the back of my hand so gently with her thumb that I doubt she realizes she's even doing it.

"Now...I guess we go to rehearsal."

And just like that, reality comes crashing down on me. We aren't in some sort of magical world where I'm allowed to touch her whenever I want. We are actors in a play, and nothing more.

Slowly, we get up from the bench and start to release our interlaced hands. The reaction of the withdrawal is immediate and causes us both to flinch.

"Either you need to go ahead of me, or we need to keep holding hands," I say, waiting for her to go ahead of me. But she doesn't. She takes my hand again, and the pain retreats as fast as it came.

"We go in together," she says.

"Together," I repeat, squeezing her hand a little tighter against mine. This girl is going to be the death of me.

When we walk into the black box, Elizabeth is there, talking to a few of the ensemble dancers who have arrived. She turns in time see us enter. Her eyes look down and notice our hands. One of her eyebrows shoots up to the sky in surprise.

"It's just easier this way," I say, brushing by her.

"Whatever works," she says with a huge smile.

To her credit, Elizabeth uses our new-found ease with one another to her advantage. She makes sure that whenever possible Naya and I are touching, but rips our bodies apart when she wants that certain 'longing.' It is both torture and relief mixed together in dance. If we can pull this off, the play will truly be magical.

At the end of the night, Naya and I walk out of the theatre together, finding 'our' bench without words.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," I say, not wanting to let her go.

"No. It wasn't," she confesses. A small smile creeps onto her lips.

I'll have to let her go now. She was only mine for rehearsal and now that it's over, she belongs to someone else.

"On three?" I say, grinning to try and hide the pain.

"One..."

"Two."

"Three," we say together. I slide my hand out of hers and we both grimace. She turns quickly without a word, taking my heart with her.

Naya

My body is shouting at me to turn around and go back to him, but I push my feet hard against his pull. He's not yours, Naya, I hiss at myself with each step I take. He's not yours.

Dutifully, I check in with Seth once I'm home. Thankfully, he seems otherwise occupied by John and the beer run he just made. We say our goodnights and then I collapse into bed, pulling the sheets over my head and cry myself to sleep.

Morning comes all too soon for my liking, but I crawl out of bed, grateful for the weekend. Maybe a few days away from Etash is all I need to pull myself together.

After I down a Pop Tart, I make my obligatory call to Harold and Tina and begrudgingly take care of the 'bill' issue. I tell them about my first week of college, and they feign interest in all of the right places.

Although I would never admit to their faces how much their waning interest in me hurts, I know I'll grant them their wish soon enough. As I hang up, I silently resolve to make my calls to them less and less frequent.

In the shower, I try to wash away some of their rejection, but the hot water feels like shards of glass against my back, which still hasn't healed over enough to take on the assault of the pelting drops for more than a moment at a time. Gingerly, I put my robe on and head back to my room to bury myself in homework.

I have just finished reading a section on how to use a stipple sponge for make-up class when there is a knock on my door. Startled, I jump up from my bed to answer it.

As I pull open the door, I see Seth frowning at me.

"You're not dressed yet?" He scratches the back of his head, then gives me a quick peck on the cheek. I'm surprised by how wrong it feels.

"Just give me a second to throw some clothes on." I shut the door behind him as he walks in and plops down on my bed, causing some of my books to bounce to the floor. He doesn't bother to pick them up.

I walk over to my closet and pull on some jeans and a light blue sweater.

"Okay, I'm ready," I say, slapping an elastic around my hair. "Are we going to lunch? I'm really craving some of the cafeteria's macaroni and cheese."

He walks over to me and yanks the elastic out of my hair; the strands fall over my slightly bruised face. Right. I'm still not presentable yet.

"I'm sorry, but cafeteria food is not on our agenda," Seth says, giving me an evil grin.

"What do you mean?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. He laughs at my dark expression.

"You'll see." He takes my hand and leads me out of my room. Once we get into his car, which he has parked in a handicap spot, we drive for about thirty minutes before Seth pulls into the parking lot of a store I've never been into before. One look at the elegant dresses in the shop's window is a clear indication of why I would never have a need to step inside.

"What is this?" I ask.

"This is a store," he says, making a grand gesture with his hands to the door.

I glare at him. "I know it's a store. Why are we parked in front of it?"

"Because, my beautiful girl, it's our anniversary and I'm taking you to a super fancy restaurant tonight." Crap. It is our anniversary. How did I forget that? "And as much as I love your sexy jeans," he continues, "they just wouldn't do for tonight. So, we're here to get some new duds."

"Seth, my trust fund doesn't really allow for this type of spending..." I begin.

"Relax. You're not spending a dime. This one's on me," he replies. He jumps out of the car and is opening my door before I can protest any further.

Thankfully, we are the only ones in the store, but that doesn't stop me from feeling like the ugly duckling surrounded by swans. The store clerk seems peeved with us until Seth whips out his gold card, then she is all too eager to help.

After trying on what seems like a hundred dresses, we finally agree on the simple beaded, high-backed black dress that will hide my unhealed lash marks. Seth picks out a handsome dark gray suit that hangs perfectly against his broad shoulders. Although he's dashing in the suit, I can't help thinking about tattered jeans and bare feet.

When I head back into the dressing room to try and squirm out of the dress, Seth grabs me by the arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks. "I'm not letting you out of that dress for the rest of the day. Besides, you'll be late for your next appointment." He winks at me and starts leading me to the door.

He drives me to a beauty salon, where three women surround me. After an hour of hairpins and what had to have been three cans of hair spray, and globs of concealer on my bruise, we head to dinner.

The restaurant is dimly lit, but even in the darkness, I can see that the walls are all covered in dark wood and mirrors. The tables have crisp white tablecloths, crystal goblets and more polished silver utensils than one person could ever possibly need for one meal.

I should feel like Cinderella on her way to the ball, but instead, I feel used. Being all glammed up like this is just not me and I can't help but feel sad that after two years together Seth doesn't seem to know this about me.

We're finally seated at a large table in the corner and I feel a bit more relaxed, tucked in discreetly at the back of the room. I pick up the large menu in front of me, intimidated by its elegant font. When I open it, I'm speechless. The entire menu is in French. I lower my menu and glare at Seth.

"It's in French," I hiss.

"Oui," he smiles, bringing his menu back over his eyes.

"I don't speak French, let alone read it!"

"But I do," he says simply.

Aggravated, I close my menu sharply and cross my arms. The waiter comes to take our drink orders. I search the menu frantically for something that looks like it could be iced tea when Seth shocks me.

Casually, he puts down his menu and picks up the wine list and asks for a bottle of wine. I wait for the waiter to laugh or at the very least card him, but all he says is, "Very good, sir."

I watch with my mouth wide open as the waiter walks away.

"What?" Seth asks, innocently.

I lean across the table.

"We're minors," I whisper.

"Not tonight," he smiles.

#  Chapter 9

Etash

The hour-plus drive to Grams' nursing home passes in a daze Saturday morning. The songs on the radio are doing little to erase my thoughts of being allowed to hold Naya's hand last night.

When I get inside, I'm told that Grams is finishing her breakfast and will be ready shortly. To pass the time, I pour myself a cup of coffee in the lobby, surprised by how I'm actually starting to enjoy its bitterness.

Sitting in a cream high-back chair, I flip through their collection of AARP magazines a few times before counting the beige carpet squares that cover the home's floors. The squares, I'm told, are not only cheaper but more practical in a place where 'accidents' are known to occur. I've gotten up to 120 stain-free squares when Nurse Morgan tells me I can see Grams now.

Making my way up the old oak stairwell, I run my hand against the smooth, well-loved banister. Every time I come here, I can't help but think about this banister and how many hands have run up and down it.

The building is an old, renovated farmhouse from the 1800s. The love that has gone into fixing it up after all the years of disrepair is something that never fails to touch my heart. Visiting Grams here has always been like visiting an old friend.

"Anyone home?" I ask, tapping on her door.

"Etash! Come, come," she says, waving me inside. Even though she's in a nursing home with dementia setting in, no one seems to have told her about it. She is fully decked out in traditional Middle Eastern garb, a look she has had since the day she came to live with us from India, never caring in the least how much she stood out in our forced Americanized family. Long, gold earrings dangle delicately from each of her ears, their small diamonds winking hello to me as they dance in the morning sunlight.

"You look beautiful Grams," I say giving her a big bear hug. She's so shriveled with age that I am able to lift her off the floor easily with my embrace. After I've set her down, she gestures to the sitting area that overlooks her gorgeous view of the mountains. Even though it's early October, the trees are still positively bursting with color, making it look like the tips of the trees have been kissed with fire.

We sit in silence, as we have done for years, just soaking in each other's energies. She's having a good day; I can feel it. I'm trying to work out how to bring up Naya when she beats me to it.

"You find her, yes?" She looks at me, takes my hand, waiting for the answer she's already figured out.

Although I try to stop it, a smile creeps across my lips.

"I knew you would!" She pats my hand and beams at me, and my face crumples.

"Grams, she has a boyfriend," I say, confessing my deepest pain. She squeezes my hand and closes her eyes. She is silent so long that I think she may have fallen asleep. But then she takes a deep breath.

"He no right for her." Her eyes open and her smile returns. "She will see. You will help her see."

Shaken by what she clearly thinks was one of her 'visions,' I stand and walk to the window, looking up at the clouds for answers.

"I know he's not right for her and I've only met him a few times." I pause, scared of what I'm about to say. "Grams, I hate this guy. Like, I want to rip-his-head-off hate. Why do I feel like this?"

Grams just smiles at me. "This girl, she is your twin flame. Not his. Of course, there is hate."

"Grams," I sigh, "I'm not sure I believe in any of this...I mean, it's just too out there, you know?" I rest my head on the window frame.

She surprises me by laughing. "Does not matter if you believe, Etash. Your soul found hers. No matter you believe or no."

"What does that even mean?" I'm taken off guard by how angry I sound.

She doesn't seem offended by my outburst in the least. In fact, she almost seems to expect it.

"Etash, come sit."

Reluctantly, I go back and sit next to her.

"Twin Flames are rare things," she says. "Many claim to have found their twin, but it is not so. Only small handful exist," she says cupping her hand for emphasis. "Twins are bound together for all of eternity. Even after death."

I snort. "That's impossible, Grams. They're dead," I sigh. Poor Grams, I think, collapsing into the chair beside her again.

But she continues on, wagging her finger at me. "Not impossible! When Twin souls are ripped apart by death, they will spend their days searching for the other."

"But they're _dead,_ Grams."

"No matter. Their souls enter new bodies!" She says as though that were the most obvious thing in the world.

After a minute, she takes my hand. "You can no control this, Etash. It will control you. You will obtain her. No matter boyfriend." She pats my hand once as if that should be the end of the discussion.

"Grams," I sigh.

"No matter boyfriend!" she repeats with an anger I've never heard before.

She looks at me. Her eyes are tired, and even though she's only been awake for a few hours, I know how life takes a toll on her aged body and I have certainly not helped things by arguing with her.

"I've upset you. I'm sorry."

"She is your destiny, Etash. You can no hide from her." She smiles. "She will only find you if you try."

Naya

I fiddle nervously with my napkin as we wait for our wine to arrive. For as long as I have known Seth, he has never been much of a drinker. At least, he wasn't before he started college; now he seems to be turning it into a nightly ritual. I'm not worried really, just a little...what? Disappointed?

"Don't freak out, Naya; I won't order you anything gross," he grins at me from across the table.

Forcing a smile, I pick up the menu again.

"I don't suppose they have mac and cheese?" I ask.

He frowns at me. "No, probably not."

The waiter appears with our bottle of wine and hands Seth the cork. Taking it, he inhales the bottom of it swiftly and nods. The waiter then pours a small amount of the wine in Seth's glass only. He cradles the glass gently in his hand and swirls it around in his glass a few times, looking at it in the light. Then he places his nose so far into the glass I think for a moment he's trying to drink it through his nostrils, but he stops just short of that and inhales deeply. He closes his eyes before finally taking one small sip, gently swishing the wine in his mouth before he actually swallows it.

I watch his elaborate performance with absolute wonder. After a moment of seemingly deep thought, Seth nods again to the waiter, who promptly fills both of our glasses, deposits the bottle on the table, and leaves.

Seth raises his glass for a toast, but I just stare at him.

"What?" he asks, clearly impressed with himself.

"Do you mind telling me how you know how to do that?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "My dad. They do that at the Country Club all the time."

Oh, yes, the Country Club. I often forget that Seth comes from money, since he so rarely flaunts it, unlike tonight.

His dad and I have only met a handful of times, and I have to admit, the times we did, he scared the hell out of me. He's a large man with a voice like sandpaper. He's also a retired Drill Sergeant who still loved to give orders, particularly to his wife and son. Orders, as far as I had observed, were always followed.

I still remember the first time I met his father last Thanksgiving. Nervous beyond belief, I sat in his father's den waiting for him and Seth to come back from hunting while carrying on 'small talk' with his painfully thin and frail looking mother. She told me that hunting on Thanksgiving morning was a family tradition. The two of them would wake at the crack of dawn and wouldn't return until they had 'made a kill.'

His mother seemed slightly upset by her husband's stubbornness, but it was clear from her demeanor that she had never once spoken up for herself. She rattled on that some years they only brought home a rabbit, or worse, a squirrel, but most years they were able to boast taking down a deer. She confessed quietly that she was in charge of gutting and cleaning whatever kill they brought home.

I can still recall the vacant look in her eyes when she described slicing open a deer that turned out to be pregnant.

"A toast to us, two years together and still going strong," Seth says, pulling me back from his mother's frozen eyes.

He takes a large gulp of his wine. "I got you a little something," he smiles. He reaches into the inside of his coat pocket and pulls out a small black box.

"Seth, you didn't need to get me anything," I gasp, relieved that the size of the box is too long and narrow to hold a ring.

"But I did. That dress is seriously lacking something." He opens the box for me and I hold my breath. Inside is a delicate string of pearls.

"Wow. Are those real?"

Seth laughs at me. "Of course, they're real. Here, let me put them on you."

Getting up from the table he comes behind me and slinks his hands across my shoulders. He lowers his face to the nape of my neck as he fastens the clasp and inhales deeply, just as purposefully as he had with the wine.

"God, you smell good." He brushes his lips on my ear and licks his tongue inside it. I blush crimson at his overt public display of affection.

Mercifully, our waiter arrives forcing Seth to take his

seat. A sly grin is stuck on his face and it makes me shiver.

Two bottles of wine and a brandy later, he pays the bill then ushers me clumsily out to the car. I don't want him behind the wheel, but I know better than to volunteer to drive.

Once in the car, I fasten my seatbelt, close my eyes tight and pray, hoping that God wouldn't be cruel enough to kill me the same way as He killed my parents.

After several nerve-wracking minutes, I know we are safe. I can feel the car heaving against the campus' speed bumps, but I'm still too nervous to open my eyes. A few more bumps and we'd be safely back at my dorm. I'm surprised when the car stops sooner than it should have.

Opening my eyes, I take a quick look out the window, which confirmed we were on campus, but not in my dorm's parking lot. From the looks of it, we're in the upper lot used mostly by commuters, just behind the theatre. It's all but abandoned this late at night.

"Why are we parked here?"

Seth pulls the keys out of the ignition and loosens his tie. A huge grin spreads across his face.

"We're parked here because your stupid dorm won't let me into your room this late. But mostly we're parked here because it's dark and quiet so I can do this." He slides himself over to me, crashing his lips awkwardly onto mine.

His hands move frantically around my neck and down the side of my dress, tugging at the seams hungrily. He pushes my body down further into the seat, crushing me with his weight. I can taste the brandy on his breath as his tongue traces the inside of my mouth. I try to sit up to catch my breath, but his arms worm around me, pinning me in place. He moans quietly between kisses, which are growing more and more urgent.

Pulling his lips off mine, he starts to run his tongue along my neck.

"Seth...," I begin, trying to push him off. Misconstruing my protest as a sigh of passion, he smothers me again with his mouth and pulls his full weight on top of me. Gasping for air, I struggle to break free of his grip against my arms, but he is too strong. I try to speak, but his mouth refuses to leave mine so all that comes out is a garbled moan.

Using every last ounce of strength I have, I push against his chest just enough to roll out from under him, only to fall off the seat.

"Ugh!" I shout as I feel something sharp and metallic scrape painfully against my arm.

"What are you doing down there? Get up here," he slurs.

"Seth, I think we need to slow down. You've had a lot to drink," I blurt out.

He just laughs, pulling me up to the seat again. "Naya, we can't go any slower than you already make me go. You owe me this. Now get up here."

His hand snakes around my waist again yanking me back onto the seat where he immediately starts tugging at the straps around my neck again. The seams burst under the pressure, causing the top of the dress to fall down, exposing my bare chest.

Etash

On the drive back from the nursing home, all I can think about is Naya. I'm desperate for Monday to come so I can see her again.

Not wanting to face the emptiness of my apartment, I decide to head to the theatre instead. The dance studios will be empty at this time of night and there is still a lot of choreography left to work out.

Stopping at the corner store, I pick up some provisions for dinner, planning on spending as much time at the theatre as the campus police will allow.

As expected, the studios are empty. I kick off my shoes, pull my t-shirt off and get out my binder. Each movement will be crucial without any dialog, so the way Elizabeth and I will have them move will need to speak volumes.

I take pages of notes, pleased by the inspiration that the music we've selected is providing me. It's only when my stomach growls that I stop. Turning the music off I check the time. It's already 10:00 pm. Wow. Time flies when you're dancing.

I'm just about to bite into my sub when I hear a banging on the door downstairs. I jog down to open the door and see a figure outside standing in profile, pressed up against the window. At first, I think it must be campus police coming to kick me out, but then my heart stops. It's Naya. She's looking at something outside that's making her positively terrified.

#  Chapter 10

Naya

Please, please let the door be open!

I can hear Seth slamming the car door and cursing my name from a few yards away. Never once have I dared to make him this angry, and I am petrified about what he'll do to me when he gets here.

My fingers lace around the door to the theatre, and I try and heave it open with all my might, but it doesn't budge. Shit!

"Naya!" Seth growls from somewhere deep in the shadows. His voice is literally dripping with fury and he's getting closer. I'm about to run again when I notice a light coming from an upstairs window. I start beating on the door frantically, hoping against hope that whoever is up there will come and let me in before Seth finds me.

"Open the door!" I shout over and over again, my voice growing weaker with each plea. Fear creeps in with each passing second, quickly paralyzing me.

It's too late. I've run out of time. Defeated, I lie back against the door and wait for his wrath. My heart hammers in my chest when I make out Seth's silhouette emerging from the darkness. He stops under a street lamp and the resulting shadow that's cast down upon his face makes him look absolutely terrifying.

"Come here, now," Seth commands. I start to shake. I'll

be punished either way, but maybe if I go to him willingly, he'll show me some mercy. Maybe.

Just as my feet start to inch forward, I feel my body falling backwards. A pair of hands surrounds my arms from behind, pulling me inside the building. The way my skin burns against those hands means it can only be Etash.

He looks at me and I can tell he's confused, but there is not the time to explain.

"Lock the door!" I scream. He hesitates for half a second before he shuts the door. The lock clicks into place, and I breathe a sigh of relief. But even that is stolen away when I see Seth outside marching up to the door. Etash sees him too, and his entire body tenses.

"What's going on?" Etash hisses. He turns to look at me and my disheveled appearance: my shaking hands holding up my ripped dress, my hair falling wildly around my face, and mascara running down my red, tear-streaked cheeks. I know what I must look like, and I can't help but feel ashamed.

"Did he...?" Etash's voice is trembling.

"Let me in!" Seth shouts, banging his fist against the glass of the window so hard that I scream.

"Go away or I'm calling the police!" Etash shouts back, moving his body in front of me.

Seth presses his forehead to the glass and stares Etash down.

"That's my girlfriend in there."

Etash reaches into his back pocket. "And this is my cell phone. And if you don't leave right now, I'm calling the police."

When Seth doesn't move, Etash starts punching numbers on his phone which causes Seth to hit the glass again, nearly shattering it, before he finally stalks off.

"Are you okay?" Etash asks when he's gone.

I nod quickly but start to cry. Without a word, he scoops me up in his arms and cradles me against his bare chest. The warmth of his skin against my cold and shaking limbs is too wonderfully healing to refuse.

He carries me upstairs to one of the ballet studios. By the looks of it, he's been dancing. I don't know why, but the thought of him dancing up here by himself makes me sob even harder. He sinks on the floor with me but doesn't let me go, continuing to hold me in his arms, like a baby, gently wiping away my tears the moment they escape. The longer he cradles me, the harder I cry.

"Am I making this worse?" he whispers in my hair, his voice thick with worry, "Should I let you go?"

"No. Please. Don't let go," I whimper, "not yet." My body has finally stopped shaking, but I don't want to let go of this feeling of safety yet, even if it is only for a moment. He holds me tighter, and I find myself melting against him.

"What did he do to you?" He asks so protectively that it unnerves me. I don't want to risk upsetting him, but one look in his eyes tells me I will never be able to lie to him, ever. There is an odd comfort in that.

"He was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing," I say, automatically defending him.

"Did he hurt you?"

Every day.

"Did he hurt you?" he asks again, this time with more force. I know what he's really asking is if I had been raped.

"No," I hiccup. "This time, I hurt him." And I'll pay for it. Hardening myself to the inevitable, I start to stand up.

"Thanks for letting me in." I hitch up my dress, hoping nothing incriminating on my back is showing. "I guess I'll see you Monday," I say, turning to leave. His arm is around my waist stopping me in my tracks before I can take a step.

"Monday?" he asks, his eyebrows are pulled together tight in confusion.

"In class," I clarify.

"Naya, I'm not letting you go back to your dorm tonight. You have to call the police."

"No. No police," I say firmly.

"Then you're not going back to your dorm," he says just as firm. "Not where he can find you."

"I don't have anywhere else to go." Nowhere but back into Seth's abusive arms.

Etash pulls me back to look me dead in the eye.

"You are not going back to those dorms."

My bottom lip quivers. "I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do. Stay with me."

My eyes open wide with shock, but he's serious. I look back at the dorms, where I know Seth is waiting for me, and decide for once, not to invite the pain. Staying with Etash tonight will only postpone the inevitable, but perhaps after a night of rest, I'll be strong enough to endure what is yet to come.

Etash

She remains silent on the drive back, fiddling with the cuffs of my jacket I've given her to wear. She looks so small and fragile sitting beside me. She's trying to hide her shivering from me, so I try my best not to mention it.

Helping her up the steep flight of stairs to my apartment, I lead her straight toward the couch. When I release her to get a blanket, I'm shocked to find that the withdrawal isn't nearly as painful.

Yanking the quilt from my bed, I tuck it around her gently and sit on the edge of the couch beside her. I'm surprised when she slips her hand in mine.

"Tell me what happened tonight, please," I beg.

"Nothing. And that's the problem." She starts to cry softly again.

"I don't understand."

She gives me a small, sad laugh.

"He's been waiting for me for two years. Two years and still...nothing." She strokes her thumb absently against my hand again.

"I'm not sure I'm following you."

She pulls away from me and hugs her knees instead of me, and her withdrawal stings.

"I'm broken, Etash. I don't work right anymore." Tears trickle down her face.

I don't know what makes me do it, but I grab her wrists and pull her toward me. "You are not broken." I pull her to my chest and whisper in her ear. "Do you hear me? You are not broken."

Tears cascade down her cheeks as she throws her body into my arms where I hold her, rock her, soothe her, until her fragile body finally quiets in my arms.

"Can I get you anything?" I ask, brushing some hair from her face, amazed that she's allowing me to do so without protest.

"No. I'm fine," she sighs. "But we probably should talk now."

I sit up, bringing her up with me. "Naya. I need to know what happened tonight."

"I know," she nods but doesn't speak. She tugs at her torn dress again and sniffs.

"But first I need to get you out of those clothes." She looks up at me with a confused expression.

"Sorry, that came out wrong. Let me see if I can find you something of mine to wear." Her eyes soften and she smiles in agreement.

Rummaging around in my room, I find a gray v-neck and a pair of shorts that have a tie waist and bring them out to her.

"These will be way too big for you, but you should, at least, be more comfortable." She takes the clothes from me and hugs them close to her chest. "The bathroom's over here." I lead her in and show her where things are, and a few minutes later I can hear the shower running.

Even though she's said she doesn't want anything, I brew some tea. My mother always taught me that in times of stress, you make tea.

I'm just putting down a tray on the coffee table when she steps out of the bathroom. I am absolutely floored at how beautiful she looks, even in my big, baggy clothes. Her hair is dripping wet and flung over one side of her shoulder.

"You must be freezing. Here, let's get you back under the blanket," I offer.

Naya

He deserves an explanation. He deserves the truth, but I'm feeling completely scattered at the moment. It's been a long day, and I'm really tired. But he's waiting, so I explain the 'highlights' of the night: the dress, the dinner, the wine and finally, the parking lot. He listens to every word, only stopping me now and again to ask a clarifying question.

"What happened once you were parked?" he asks.

"He started to kiss me, but all I could taste was the booze he'd had." I can still taste it, even now. "When he gets like that, I go numb..."

"Gets like what?"

I exhale deeply. "Intimate." And there it is. All laid out on the table. I am completely vulnerable. Etash starts to pull his hand out of mine.

"Naya, I'm so sorry," he says quickly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." His eyes scrunch up in pain, but I hold onto his hand even more tightly.

"No," I say to clarify. "This is okay. In fact, I like it." I'm surprised by my honesty.

"I like it too."

I smile, then sigh. "But usually, I kind of shut down, you know? Like, wait until it's over." A shiver goes down my spine. I close my eyes, ashamed.

"Until what's over?" He grinds his teeth together. "Has he taken advantage of you?"

I surprise us both by laughing. "No. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing, but no, it's not like that. I'm--" Oh God, I don't believe I'm about to say this, "I'm still a virgin."

Etash

She's a virgin? I was not expecting that. She grabs her tea and takes a sip.

"I know it's hard to believe. But up until recently, Seth had always been really understanding about my decision to wait until marriage."

I almost spit my tea out.

"It's old-fashioned, I know," she says.

"No, no it's not that. I think waiting until marriage is admirable. It's just...I've never needed to make a decision to wait. With this face, I already know I'll end up alone." The words are automatic, and come out before I can stop them.

Naya puts her tea down so fast that some of it sloshes over the edge. She squeezes my hand, hard. "You will not end up alone." My eyes tear up and she places her hands gently on each side of my face. I flinch because she's touching my scar. Her touch doesn't hurt, but I know how my scar feels and I'm embarrassed. But instead of moving her hands away from it, she leans in closer until she's brushing her mouth against it. Her soft lips start to kiss the line of my scar and I can't help it; I start to cry.

No one has ever touched my scar, not even my parents, and here is this girl, kissing it. Her lips trace along my jaw then down to my chin. My heart is racing in my chest, begging to feel her lips against mine. I don't have to wait long, because as soon as I wish it, they are there, caressing mine.

Her kiss is so soft and warm, but at the same time, it lights a fire within me. Hunger burns in my limbs as I return her kiss. Her hands dig into my hair, pulling me closer to her. I moan her name in ecstasy.

Without warning, she straddles my lap. Her legs wrap tight around my back. My hands caress her arms and slide up to her neck. When I feel her breasts press against my chest, I have to warn myself to be careful with her, to go slowly. But she's pushing her body against mine with such fever that holding back is becoming more unlikely by the second. Her tongue slips into my mouth and the taste of her sends me off the deep end. I've got to stop this, now.

Yanking myself free of her, I jump off the couch and try to catch my breath.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

I see the worry in her eyes.

"No, please, _please_ don't be sorry. I was just..." My face is blazing with embarrassment. "I don't trust myself to stop," I finally say.

A seductive grin spreads across her face as she crawls off the couch, comes over to me and runs her hands up my chest.

"Who asked you to stop?" she purrs, but there is something off about her eyes, how they seem to have glazed over. And that causes alarm bells to go off.

Naya

My fingers run up the contours of his chest, without my telling them to. In fact, my whole body feels sort of strange....tingly, but it's not a feeling I usually have when I'm with Etash, and it scares me. My body feels sort of numb. And I start to panic. Oh, please, please don't let this numbness be the only thing I'll ever be allowed to feel whenever I get close to someone!

Desperate, I pull him closer, needing to prove to myself that Etash will be different. I will feel something other than emptiness when I'm with him.

I force my tongue to trace the edge of his earlobe. Something in my head is warning me to stop, but it's so far away, that it doesn't have a chance to register for long. Pulling my eyes back to look at him, I toss my hair back trying to be sexy, but instead I just feel the room spin below me. Etash becomes very blurry, but I push on.

"Don't stop," I hear myself say, shocked by how brazen I am.

Etash frightens me by grabbing my wrists hard, shaking me a little. No, I think. Not you too.

"Naya. Stop." I blink hard to try and pull him back into focus. Why do I feel so loopy right now? I try to pull out of his grasp, but he won't let me.

"Stop, Naya, you're not thinking clearly," he says.

I just shake my head at him. Doesn't he realize that I have to know right now if I am capable of loving someone?

"Please," I beg. "I'll be a good girl." I'm shocked hearing my automatic apologies slip out. "Please," I start sobbing, knowing it's too late, already feeling the sting of his rejection. He releases my hands and I start to cry.

"Please, don't leave me alone," I whisper before an uncontrollable heaviness fills my head.

"Hey, I'm not going to leave you alone. Naya, look at me."

But I can't look at him. I can't even see him anymore. This feels so familiar...my eyes lose focus and everything—the night, my fear, Etash—goes away.

Etash

"Naya?" She's not answering me. Her eyes have closed and she's just gone limp in my arms. Did she just black out again?

Carefully, I carry her over to the couch and press my ear to her chest: she's still breathing, although her heart is beating faster than normal. I pull back one of her eyelids and notice how dilated her pupils are. It's like she's on something. Could she be?

Resting her head on the pillow, I get up and find her book bag, hoping to find something in there that will give me a clue. After I've turned the entire bag upside down, a small bottle rolls to the ground.

It's a small brown prescription bottle. Quickly I scan for the name: benzodiazepine. _What the hell is that?_ Grabbing my laptop, I Google it and find a link on Wikipedia. I click on it, holding my breath. The drug is defined as an anti-anxiety drug. I click on a link and I read that attacks can be caused by post-traumatic stress. Losing both of your parents could certainly do that.

Next I check out the symptoms for anxiety attacks. Some hyperventilate and can black out. Just like at the theatre. It would also explain why she brushed it off. She's probably too embarrassed to talk about it.

A hyperlink within that same page about side effects catches my attention:

"...because of its hypnotic effect, benzodiazepine has been linked with date rape. A date rape drug refers to a drug that can be used to assist in the commission of a sexual assault, such as date rape. Drugs used to facilitate rape may have sedative, hypnotic, dissociative, and/or amnesiac effects, and can be added to a food or drink without the victim's knowledge. The drug takes forty-five minutes to an hour to take effect, giving the perpetrator plenty of time to find a private spot for the attack."

Seth drugged her tonight at dinner. He must have. He probably slipped it into her drink then waited for her to black out. But when she didn't black out by the time he was ready, he was too drunk to have the patience to wait until she did. That son of a bitch! I slam down my laptop, fuming.

I know I should call the police, but I don't have any real proof that he actually did it.

With trembling hands I place the contents of her bag back inside, not wanting her to know I invaded her privacy before I curl up beside her and start to cry. How could someone do this to someone so fragile?

"No one else is ever going to take advantage of you again," I whisper. "I promise."

I rock her back and forth in my arms until I feel her heart return to its normal rhythm. My chest rises and falls, quickly matching hers. I don't mean to, but at some point, the rocking and the sound of her heart beating against mine forces my own eyes to shut and I fall asleep with her tucked safely in my arms.

When the morning sun hits my eyes I wake with a start. After I make sure Naya is still here and alive, that this wasn't all a dream, I sigh in relief.

"Thank you," I whisper to the heavens.

"You're welcome," she replies, stretching in my arms.

"You're up? Did you sleep okay?"

She sits up and runs a hand through her tangled hair. I can't tell if she's in pain, confused, relieved, or all of the above.

"I need coffee," she says in a husky morning voice.

I can't help but smile. "All I have is tea, but I can run to the store."

"No, tea's fine," she says.

Reluctantly, I leave her side to make it. When I come back with the tray, she's sitting on the edge of the couch, holding her head in her hands.

"What is it? Are you okay?" I'm startled by the tinge of hysteria in my voice.

"Headache." She rubs her fingers against her temples for a few moments before she gives me a big warm smile, and I'm mesmerized.

I pour us out each a cup of tea and resign myself to the potential unpleasantness that may lie ahead. I don't want to mention what happened last night. I don't want to upset her further, but I have to know.

"Naya, how much do you remember about last night?"

She lowers her head, embarrassed, and starts rubbing her head again.

"You mean before or after I blacked out?"

Not waiting for my answer, she shrugs off the blanket and goes to look out the window. I contemplate following her, but the way her body is positioned with her back to me, it's clear to me that she needs some distance from the world before she can speak again. So I wait.

#  Chapter 11

Naya

I can't tell him that I remember him rejecting me. I just can't. But he's waiting for an explanation for the blackouts, so by comparison, that's an easy topic.

"When I was thirteen," I tell the window, not brave enough to look at him, "I lost both of my parents in a car accident. Some stupid man fell asleep at the wheel and ruined my life." And I hate him like I've never hated anyone in my life.

Etash just looks at me. I wait for the obligatory 'I'm sorry' to come. When it doesn't, I smile.

"You didn't say 'you're sorry' about my parents' dying."

His expression changes, seemingly mortified that he's made a huge mistake.

"I'm glad you didn't," I assure him. "I hate it when people say that. They have nothing to be sorry about. They didn't kill my parents." I trace my fingers against a hairline fracture in the cool glass. "Besides, saying sorry doesn't help. It doesn't bring them back."

"What happened after they died?" he asks softly.

I pause for a moment, trying to gather my strength. Glancing outside, I see that there is a large blue jay fighting with a small, gray squirrel over some precious bit of food scattered on the ground. The blue jay is twice the size of the squirrel. Poor thing doesn't stand a chance of getting what he wants, and neither do I.

I know Etash is still waiting, so I forget the injustice outside. "I won't bore you with all the gory details, but let's just say, the months after their deaths—the months stuck with the State before I was placed with Harold and Tina, my foster adults—I went... a little crazy."

I hang my head in shame. Etash is so quiet that I can actually hear a drop of water fall into his kitchen sink.

"I think I'd go nuts too if I just lost my parents," he says eventually. "In fact, I think you'd be heartless not to."

I chuckle sadly. How did he know the absolute right thing to say? I wipe the newest tears that have fallen down my cheek and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

"A few weeks after I was placed with Harold and Tina, I was still having the panic attacks, so they brought me to a doctor who stuck me on all kinds of drugs."

Absently, I check back in on my friends outdoors, but they have both vanished along with the food.

"After awhile, though," I continue, "I stopped taking them because I just didn't care anymore. I didn't care that my parents were dead, I didn't care that I was alive, I didn't care about anything."

"What changed?" he asks so gently that I actually feel sorry for him having to listen to me whine. I wipe my face clean and focus hard on the large oak tree outside, trying to center myself.

"How do I say this without sounding lame?" Frowning, I turn and face him. "I found acting. As corny as that sounds, acting was an escape. An escape from everything: from Harold and Tina, from the memories; from the pain. It was a chance to step out of my own life for a moment and be someone else."

A gentle pull forms in my chest, and it makes me realize that I've upset him, that he's hurting right now along with me.

It seems cruel of me to be so far away from him, so I push off from the window and sink back into the couch beside him. His arms are instantly around me, pulling me down onto his chest, as though relieved to be able to do something to comfort me.

"So, you're not taking any medication now?" he asks after a few minutes.

"Well, I hadn't been up until a week or so before college started. I was getting nervous, you know? About measuring up, proving myself, making my parents proud." Another tear falls.

His face is tight, thinking hard about something.

"That night, at the theatre, was that a black out?"

"Yeah," I confess. Damn medicine.

"So, was that the last time you took your medicine?" he asks, really seeming interested in my answer.

"Yes."

His face contorts into an expression of deep pain for a moment before pushing the thought away.

"Come on, let's get you some breakfast," he says, putting on a forced smile.

Just the mention of food makes me feel ravenous, so I wrap the blanket tightly around my body and waddle into the kitchen like a giant burrito and watch as he makes scrambled eggs and toast.

When he puts the plate in front of me I devour everything in sight.

"Not to pressure you," Etash says after we've finished, "but you still haven't told me what happened last night."

I sigh and push away from the table, bring my dishes to the sink. "He had too much to drink," I begin. I turn on the hot water and squirt some soap in. Etash brings his plate over to me and I take it from him with a foamy hand. "When I asked him to stop and he didn't, my knee sort of found his groin."

Etash cringes.

"Yeah, he was pretty pissed about that," I say, cringing for far different reasons.

"What happened then?" He reaches out, touches my shoulder, turning me toward him.

"I ran," I shrug. "He was drunk, that's all." I can't even think about what might have happened had I not gotten out of there when I did. I just can't.

"I know you're not telling me everything, and that's okay. I'll be here whenever you're ready." He lets go of my shoulder and grabs a dish towel and starts to dry my plate. "We've got nothing but time now."

I glance at him sideways, still scrubbing a plate. "How can you be so sure?"

"It doesn't take an expert to see you're scared of him," he says, but I shake my head.

"No, not about that. About us having nothing but time," I ask in all honesty. "How do you know that I won't go back to him?"

His expression changes to one of pain and I instantly regret my words.

"Why don't we finish these up, then we can go for a walk and I'll tell you about my grandma."

"Your grandma?" What does she have to do with anything?

"Yeah. She kind of has a theory about us."

Etash

Before we head out, I try and find her some warmer clothes. What I come up with isn't much better in terms of fit, but they will hold up better to the brisk morning air.

When she comes out of the bathroom, she starts laughing at how ridiculous she thinks she looks, but I think she is positively stunning. She's pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and a few dark strands fall around her face. The thick sweatshirt I gave her, although loose, still manages to show off her petite figure. When she lifts up the sweatshirt casually to show me how big the pants are, I can't help but notice the velvety, ivory skin surrounding her perfectly shaped navel.

We walk through the City Park, not stopping until we come to the duck pond. I sit down on the banking and reach up to take her hand and pull her down beside me.

"My grandma's name is Naimi," I say after a moment. I'm careful to pronounce it properly: Naya-me.

"Naimi?" she repeats, clearly hearing the similarity.

"Yeah, eerie right? It means 'belonging to one.' She's Indian, too. She actually lived in India her whole life until a few years ago, when she needed more care. She lived with us for awhile, but when things got worse, we had to put her in a home." I shift uncomfortably on the grass before continuing. "I got close to her while she was living with us. She didn't speak fluent English at first, but she knew enough to get by.

"Anyway, I was in high school when she first moved in with us, and I was...a bit of a loner, you could say." Naya gently strokes my hand with her thumb again, urging me on. "I remember I used to come home from school every day and just sit with her, hardly ever saying anything. It just felt good to sit beside her, you know?

Comfortable." Like how we are now, I want to say, but I don't want to risk ruining the moment.

"I didn't have a lot of friends back then; the scar kinda saw to that." She frowns at me. "It was a lot worse then," I say. "And there was this girl. Jessica. She was in my math class, and I thought I loved her." Back when I didn't know a thing about love.

"So, one day, I got brave and asked her to the prom." I shake my head, remembering. "She turned me down flat. She didn't need to tell me why she said no. The way her eyes couldn't manage to look me in the eye clued me in pretty quick."

"That must have been awful," she whispers.

"Yeah, I was pretty down that day. But when I went to sit next to Grams that night, she could sense that I was sad, but she told me I didn't need to worry. She said my Twin Flame would come soon enough."

Cat's out of the bag. Let's see how nuts she thinks I am.

"Your Twin Flame?"

I exhale heavily. Here we go.

"Yeah. According to my Grams, when your soul enters the 'physical world,' it splits itself into two pieces: male and female. Supposedly, those two halves then spend the rest of eternity searching for their other half. It can take decades, she claims, sometimes longer, before they are reunited."

"Like some kind of soul mate?"

I exhale again, frustrated. "Um, no, it's actually a lot deeper than that. I'm not explaining it very well."

Slipping my hand out of hers I stand and hurl a rock across the pond.

"It's all a bunch of mumbo-jumbo," I say. "I don't believe any of it. Or didn't," I whisper, hoping she didn't hear that. I grab another stone and toss it into the water.

Across the pond, a patch of angry, dark clouds are pushing themselves against the fading blue sky overhead. I hold out my hand to her, and she takes it willingly. "Let's go. It looks like rain again."

We walk in silence out of the park. Once we're on the sidewalk leading up to my apartment, the questions begin.

"You said she used to live with you, then she got worse?"

I nod. "She was getting delusional. She kept having 'visions' as she called them."

"Visions?"

How to explain this? "She thinks she can see the future," I sigh. "She's on medication now to help control it. Most days she's fine, but others..."

She nods, but I can't make out what she's thinking.

"I never knew my grandparents. You're very lucky to have her."

I nod again. "Yeah, I am. I'm supposed to visit her again soon..."

She stops walking. "But now you can't because you have to babysit me."

I shake my head at her. "What I was going to say, is would you want to come with me?"

"Oh." She blushes. "Um, yeah, I would, actually."

"Great," I beam.

We start walking again but there's a bigger question on my mind; one that I know will have to be asked, but one that I really don't want the wrong answer to.

"Naya, don't take this the wrong way, but what happens now?"

"Now..." She gives a weak smile to the sky. "Now...I guess I go back." She tries to hold back a shiver, but she's not fooling me.

"You don't have to," I say. I swear I see hope flicker in her eyes. "You can stay here."

A look of confusion sets in her face, but then she frowns.

"I have to go back," she finally says, and my heart sinks. "After all, if I'm gonna be staying with you, I'll need to at least get my clothes," she adds, smiling at me, making me feel downright giddy.

I tug playfully against the baggy sweatshirt of mine that she's wearing.

"What? This look doesn't work for you?" I ask. She raises her eyebrows up and rolls her eyes at me. "Well, then it's settled," I say. "You give me your keys and I'll pack you a bag."

"That's a really tempting offer, but you wouldn't know where anything is," she says simply.

We walk for a moment longer.

"How long a stay are we talking?" she asks.

Forever, I want to say, but I'm afraid the truth might scare her off, so I settle for "as long as you want."

"Then I guess I should pack my books too."

As soon as we get back to my apartment, we load into my car and head back to campus. I want her out of that place, now. Driving back to campus, she keeps her hand tucked neatly in mine.

When we get to the dorms, her light-hearted conversation in the car ride over has died off. Her hand slips out of mine and she sinks lower in her seat; like she's afraid of getting caught with me. There is so much more about her relationship with that animal that she hasn't told me yet. I just hope when she does finally tell me, I don't rip his head off.

#  Chapter 12

Naya

My hands tremble as I put the key in the lock. Even though I know it's impossible for Seth to be waiting for me in there, I still can't help but shake the fact that reminders of him will be all over the place.

The first thing I smell when I open the door is his cologne, and my muscles tense from the memories. But he's not here. It's just an empty room. Just as I left it. My bed is still made, my books still scattered about, my p.j.'s on a clump on the floor. Even though this room holds all of my stuff, I can't get over how alien it feels. I don't belong here.

"I don't know what to pack," I say, needing to break the silence.

"Just pack the essentials. If we need to come back again, we will. Do you have a bag?"

"Um, yeah." I walk slowly over to my bed and look underneath it. There's a half-finished beer can in front of the bag. I push it out of the way, which only succeeds in knocking it over, spilling its stale scent under my bed.

"Okay, clothes," I say with more courage than I have. Pulling clothes off hangers as fast as I can to get out of this miserable space, I notice small red dried dots of blood next to my dresser, just a few inches from where Etash is standing.

My blood. From the last lashing. Quickly, I rush out of the closet and toss my bag down, covering the spots. He can't know about this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I'm not sure if I will ever trust anyone enough to tell this secret.

"Done," I say, hoping to sound more convincing than I feel.

"Not so fast," he says, reaching down and picking up my backpack. I hold my breath, waiting. "You haven't packed your books," he says, smiling.

As he goes over to my bed to gather my books, I drag my crumpled up p.j.'s over with the tip of my toe and place the heap over the evidence.

Once he's crammed the last of the books in, I take one last look around the room and decide, right then and there, that I never want to come back.

Etash takes my bag and my hand and walks me to the elevator. As it descends I can feel the tension rolling off of me in waves. I'm free.

When the elevator doors open, my heart leaps into my throat. There, standing in the lobby, talking to a big busted blond girl named Monica, is Seth.

Etash

I push Naya behind me instinctively, and the noise of the shuffle causes Seth to turn around. His entire body tenses as he stares me down, fully taking in my hand clasped inside hers. She tries to pull away from me, but I won't let her go.

"Don't tell me you're with scar face now?" Seth chides. Scar-face. Real original.

"That's not funny," Naya defends with an odd mouse-like voice.

"It wasn't meant to be," he hisses.

"Let's go, Naya," I say quietly in her ear, gently grabbing hold of her arm.

Seth storms over to me and grabs a fist full of my shirt. "Hands off my girl, freak."

"She's not your girl," I spit.

He surprises me by letting me go, but when he does he pushes me hard, which causes me to stumble back onto the floor, a few feet from Naya. Before I'm able to get back on my feet he's got his hands on either side of her face whispering softly to her. I push myself off the floor, anger pulsating in my veins that he's touching her. But when I get closer to them, I can hear what he's saying.

"Baby, please, please forgive me. I was an ass last night. I was just so nervous," he says, kissing the top of her head. "Naya, I wanted to do this the right way last night, but the wine must have gone to my head. I love you. I've loved you since the moment I first saw you. You're the best thing that's happened to me, and I promise to do better if you just give me a chance." Naya starts crying. Please tell me she's not falling for this?

"Naya," he pleads. He gets down on one knee and pulls out a little black box. "I know the timing of this is all wrong, but I want you to marry me." He starts kissing her hand, causing me to fall limply to my knees; an intense feeling of hopelessness washes over me.

Tears are cascading down her cheeks. She's going to say yes to him. She's going to say yes, and my entire world is going to be destroyed. My body starts convulsing watching his hands caress her arms, then up and through her hair.

"Naya," I whimper, too softly for her to hear, but yet, miraculously, she does. Her eyes look up and find mine and it's as though she's been awoken from a spell. She smiles weakly at me, then looks back to Seth.

"I can't..." she squeaks. She pushes back from Seth, who looks up at her, dumbfounded, too stunned by the rejection to react.

Naya runs over to me, takes my hand and starts pulling me out the door. The whole time I'm just looking at her with my mouth agape. She just turned him down.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Positive," she says. "Now, let's go."

"Naya!" Seth bellows, coming back to his senses.

I'm about to turn around to defend her, but she pulls hard against my arm, dragging me forward.

"Let's just go. Now."

She runs out of the dorm and throws herself into my car and pushes the lock down. I follow suit, looking up in time to see Seth storming after me out of the lobby. His chest is heaving in anger. The look he gives me is one of sheer loathing.

"Go," she orders.

"This isn't over, Naya!" he shouts. "I know you love me! This isn't over!"

She starts sobbing, and I peel out of the parking lot, needing to get her as far away from this place, and her past, as possible.

Even after we're off campus grounds, I can't stop looking in the rear-view mirror waiting for a car to come speeding up behind us. I'm careful to check without her noticing.

Pulling into the driveway, I kill the engine.

"Did he follow us?" she asks.

"No."

She nods in understanding but she's shaking.

I help her out of the car and up the stairs. Setting her up on the couch, I grab a blanket and wrap it around her. I even turn the heat up, hoping against hope that it's just the chill in the air making her shake so. She reaches out and pats the couch beside her.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore," I soothe, sitting next to her. "I'm not going to let him lay another finger on you." She pops her head up and gives me an unreadable look. "I know he hits you." She takes a small intake of air, her mouth opens, but no words come out.

"You don't have to hide it anymore, or be embarrassed by it. I'll protect you." I expect her to try and deny it, to continue to hide. But she doesn't.

"It's worse than that," she whispers, so softly that I barely catch it. I reach out for her hand, but she brushes it aside and stands up. She lets out a long controlled breath before she pulls off her sweatshirt leaving her in just her bra. I'm so shocked by what she's doing that I don't see what she's trying to show me.

It's only when she turns her back to me and clutches the shirt in a tight ball covering her front, that I realize what she's doing. She's showing me her back. At first, I don't understand, but when she straightens herself from her hunched position, I see it. Light pink slash marks zigzagging all along her upper back.

I'm on my feet in a second, getting a better look. Under the pink lines are several more white ones. Marks which have had ample time to heal.

"What are these?" I ask, sounding far calmer than I am. She walks away from me and pulls the shirt back over her head before she answers me.

"Belts, mostly. They heal pretty fast and they're always handy."

I kick the coffee table over causing Naya to jump.

"I'm going to kill him!"

"No!" she screams at me, and I'm shocked by the hostility in her voice. "I didn't show you these so you could be all macho and try to be the hero! I'm a big girl, Etash." I stare at her, dumbfounded. "I could have stopped him if I had wanted to. I know how to pick up a phone and call a cop. But I didn't."

My hands are still balled into fists in anger, but I can sense that she's desperate to confess a dark secret that I have to let my anger go. Slowly, I walk in front of her and take her hands.

"Why? Why didn't you call the police?"

Naya

"Because..." I bite my lip, hesitating. How can I make him understand?

"Please," he whispers, and the worry in his voice unglues me. I have to tell him the truth. The truth I've never told a living soul.

"Because when he's hitting me, I can feel something." My voice is trembling. Etash doesn't speak; he's just looking at me horror-struck. "The pain of a belt against my skin is bliss—compared to the numbness I normally feel."

I can see tears welling up in his eyes, and that infuriates me. I don't want him feeling sorry for me.

"I didn't show you this for your pity," I say through my teeth. "I'm showing you these so you'll understand how screwed up I am! You can't hate Seth for this. This is my doing. And I take full ownership of it." Etash's face turns to stone.

"He hit you Naya. He did. You are not taking ownership of that."

He doesn't get it.

"I don't expect you to understand this, but what I'm trying to tell you Etash, is that since I met you, I haven't _wanted_ to feel the pain anymore." He looks up at me, blinking away his tears. "You take the numbness away."

He pulls me into his arms and holds me so close I can hear his heart beating, but then he stiffens.

"When was the last time he hit you?" I tense in his arms.

"The morning after you refused the role of Romeo," I confess, hoping he won't put the pieces together.

"But that was after we met. If I take the pain away..."

"Just because I don't want to feel it anymore, doesn't mean I don't still deserve it," I say, lowering my head.

"Deserve it?" He is downright seething now.

I push him away and walk back over to the couch, and pull my knees into my chest, hugging them as tightly as I can.

"I didn't answer his calls that night...and he worried where I was. When he found me the next morning in my room, I think he thought I was with you." I look up to the ceiling, embarrassed about what I was about to say. "And even though you weren't physically in the room with me, you were," I point to my heart. "In here."

"So?" he spits, pissed.

"So, I took the beating willingly!" I shout back, equally ticked off. "I was thinking about you when I should have been thinking about him!"

Etash starts pacing as though he's trying to problem-solve this mess. But the truth is, there isn't a solution to be had.

"It's not his fault, you know," I say. "His father hit him when he was a kid." I know I'm betraying a secret confidence, but Etash has to understand.

"It's the only way he knows how to show love," I continue. "I don't blame him. And I don't want you to either. If anyone is to blame, it's me."

He glares at me.

"Etash, I've allowed him to do this to me; needed him to, for my own sanity." He gives me that pained look again. "But I don't need him anymore." I take his hand. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"What do you need?" He is desperate for my answer, but I'm too afraid to tell him the truth. Too afraid of his rejection, so I lie.

"Space."

"Space?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I need a little space. To think, you know?"

He nods slowly. "Of course. I'll leave you alone. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

After he closes the door, I quietly slip outside. I need some air.

Etash

Pacing in my room, I hear the outside door click. Is she leaving? I run to my window and see her. She's standing outside, oddly still, staring at headlights approaching in the driveway. Seth is here.

#  Chapter 13

Etash

I take the stairs two at a time and almost crash into Naya who is standing frozen just outside my door, trapped in his glare.

"What are you doing here?" Naya's voice breaks the silence. Seth steps in between her and his headlights, breaking the beam into small fractions.

"I needed to see you." Seth's voice is surprisingly calm. He leans against the hood of his car, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"You shouldn't be here," she says.

He just smirks. "I'm not afraid of him, Naya."

The smug look on his face makes me want to haul off and punch him.

"Leave now or I'll call the police," I threaten, half wanting him to stay so I can.

Naya puts a hand up, urging me to stop.

"What are you doing here?" she says again, sounding braver than I'm sure she feels.

"I came to take you home, where you belong." I may have been imagining it, but I swear I see him finger the edge of his belt. "We're going to head out to my folks in Concord," his voice softens. "Take some time off together; reconnect. Come on baby, come home with me."

She looks at me for a moment before she says, "I am home."

Seth pushes off his car and takes a few strides toward her. "Enough of this shit! Grab your stuff. We're leaving. Now."

"She's not going anywhere with you." I push Naya behind me. I will not let her near that beast again.

Seth looks at Naya with amusement. "Is this guy serious?"

Glancing at her, I can see her actually contemplating going with him. She's going to try and protect me, and I can't let her.

"Leave now, or I'll tell the cops all about your dirty little secret."

That wipes that cocky grin off his face.

"What did you tell him?" he seethes at Naya. The authority behind his tone is crystal clear. He takes a step in her direction making him only a few feet away from her. That's too close for me.

"Enough! Leave. Now!" I yell, not sure how much longer I can be civil.

He ignores me completely and moves closer to her, looking her dead in the eye.

"Have you slept with him?" he spits at her.

Naya shocks me by laughing at him. "Seth, I fail to see how that is any of your business." She's taunting him. And that is not good. In a flash, he's grabbed her hand, hard, and yanks her to him.

"You don't think it's any of my business? Seriously? You are mine, Naya. It matters to me who you sleep with!"

"Get your hands off her," I growl. Seth's eyes turn cold and a cocky grin crawls across his lips.

"Or what? You're gonna make me?" he asks, bemused.

"Seth! Stop it. Please, let me go." He complies by pushing her to the ground.

"See? All you had to do was ask nicely."

"Naya, get inside," I say through my teeth. Seth smiles.

"He sure likes to boss you around, doesn't he?" Seth quips, pushing back his shoulders making him look absolutely enormous.

"I'm not going inside without you," she tells me. Seth lets out an audible growl.

"It's okay," I tell her, not taking my eyes off Seth. "I just want to talk to him for a minute."

Seth just snickers. Naya's eyes are wide, and she's shaking her head. "If you're not back in two minutes, I'm calling the police," she says.

I nod. I won't need that long.

"Lock the door behind you!" I order. She blinks at me looking pale and scared. I already hate myself for making her go through this. I vow to make it up to her by putting this guy in his place. The only problem is, he's easily twice my size. But I'm fast and he smells like he's been drinking, so I'm hopeful.

"This ends now," I say when Naya has gone inside. "You leave right now, and never bother her again, or I'll report your 'discipline techniques' to the authorities." I play my ace now while he's calm enough to consider it.

"What did she tell you? 'Cause I'll guarantee you, it's a lie," he says, trying to call my bluff.

"She didn't have to tell me anything. The marks along her back say enough to get you convicted."

Something dangerous shifts in his expression. "You mean those lashes she begged me for?"

"Shut up," I hiss as bile forms in my throat.

"'Again, Seth," he taunts, "' _Again_. Hit me again. _Harder'_." He takes another step closer to me. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I was man enough to give her _exactly_ what she wanted." He smiles. "And I know what she wants now, and I intend to give it to her."

He tries to brush past me, to get to the apartment, to get to her; but I won't let him. I kick my leg out quickly, causing him to trip and come crashing to the ground.

"You're a dead man," he says getting to his feet. A few more seconds and I know he might be right, so I play my other ace.

"I know about you drugging her," I say. That stops him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, but his body language says otherwise.

My body is screaming at me to punch him now, but I resist. I need him to admit it. "So, you're man enough to hit her but not enough of a man to wait for her to want you? You have to take her when she's unconscious!" I'm hoping this revelation will get him on the defensive, but instead, it just makes him boastful.

"Oh, she was conscious all right." The smirk on his face is revolting. "But, hey, it's not my fault if she doesn't remember how amazingly well we fit together." His words are like knives into my stomach, and he keeps twisting them.

"And you know what? She begged for more then, too."

That does it. I swing—hard, and clock him square in the jaw. He stumbles back a few steps, but recovers quickly and comes at me swinging. I manage to escape almost all of his attempts, but his last right hook hits me right above my left eye, managing to rip apart the delicate flesh around my scar. Blood starts to pour down my face causing me to sink to my knees; the pain blinds me for a moment. He walks over to me slowly before he hauls off and kicks me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. But even through all this pain, all I can think of is Naya. I can't let him get to Naya.

"Everything okay down there?" It's my neighbor, Mrs. Jennings. I glance up at Seth who looks up to the third floor where Mrs. Jennings is leaning out of her window. He looks back to my stairwell leading up to my apartment, then back at me before he decides to bail, peeling out of the driveway, leaving me in a pile of dust and blood.

"You alright?" she says again.

"I will be. Thanks, Mrs. Jennings." More than you know, thank you.

I struggle to my feet, pushing my hand to my head, trying to force the blood back.

"Etash!" I hear Naya shout. She's running down the stairs. Foolishly, I turn my face away from her, somehow thinking I'll be able to hide the blood.

"You're hurt."

"I'll be fine," I say, pushing past her to get up the stairs. I might be able to get into the bathroom and clean up some of the mess before she sees it. But by the time I reach the top of the stairs, I know I won't make it to the bathroom. My head is spinning and I can feel my head swelling beneath my hand. I need to control that, fast.

Barreling into the kitchen, I rip open the freezer door and curse when I don't find any ice. I grab a frozen burrito and slap it on my face, flinching at both the relief and the pain it brings. I kick the freezer door shut with my foot and lean against the counter trying to control a wave of nausea. One look at Naya, though, and all concern for myself disappears. She's as white as a ghost and her eyes are as wide as saucers.

"Did he hurt you?" I ask her, looking along her arms where he grabbed her. She looks at me like I've lost my mind.

"What? No. I'm fine. Etash, you're the one who's hurt! What happened?" She walks over to me and tries to take away my burrito. "Let me see."

"I'm fine." I push her hand away.

"Let. Me. See," she orders. I sigh. When I lower my make-shift ice pack, she gasps.

"It looks worse than it is," I mumble, hoping I'm right. I put the pack back on my face. "Besides, what's one more scar?" I walk over to the couch, and slump down on it, letting the cold numb my nerve endings.

Naya starts rummaging around in the bathroom and comes back out with the few meager supplies I have on hand. A few Band-Aids, a tube of Neosporin and an Ace bandage. She tosses the contents beside me and orders me not to move. I oblige willingly, not sure if I'd be able to move even if she wanted me to. She disappears into the kitchen. A few seconds later I hear the water running.

When she comes back, she's got a towel flung over her shoulder and is carrying a large bowl of water, sloshing it over the edges as she walks.

"Let me get you cleaned up."

Not having the strength to object, I let her.

Naya

It takes about 20 minutes but by the time I am through, his gash has been cleaned and covered. He really should have stitches, but he refuses to go to the hospital, and I wasn't about to make him go. I have my own issues with hospitals, so I won't push the matter. He's right, though, it _will_ leave another scar.

In the back of his freezer, I find a bag of frozen corn that will work better than the burrito. Placing the bag against his head, I wrap the Ace Bandage around the corn and his head several times to hold the pack in place. It's not pretty, but it should keep the swelling down. Looking over my handiwork, I frown. His shirt is covered in blood.

"I should have had you take off your shirt before I wrapped your head up." I sigh. "You'll never get that bloody shirt off now."

"Sure I will," he says, getting up and going into the kitchen. He comes back in with a pair of scissors and holds them out to me.

"Do you mind doing the honors? I can't see very well."

My eyes grow wide. "What? You want me to cut off your shirt?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

I blush but grab the scissors out of his outstretched hand.

"I guess not."

Trying to steady my trembling hands, I reach for the bottom hem of his shirt, reminding myself to be careful and not injure him again. The blades are sharp and slide through the cotton easily. Etash lifts his head and tilts it to the side to allow room for the blades to cut through the collar. With a final snip, the fabric falls slack and hangs loosely against his now nearly-naked chest. He shrugs out of the remains as I struggle to keep my eyes from sneaking too long a look at his lean and muscular body. I'm definitely not allowing my eyes to glance down toward the thin line of dark hair just below his belly button. My cheeks burn when I finally manage to pull my eyes off him. He's smirking at me.

"I can't see very well with this thing on my face, but I'd swear you were blushing," he says.

"You're right," I say, trying to recover. "You can't see very well."

He laughs and shakes his head, and turns to sit. As he does, I sneak another look. This time soaking up his arms; his forearm first, then linger a few more seconds on his lean biceps. There is still a smudge of blood on the left side of his shoulder blade. Picking up the remains of his shirt, I ball it up and stop him before he has a chance to sit down.

"Hold still," I say. "You've still got some blood on you."

I start rubbing at the mark, trying my best not to touch him, afraid of what I might do if I did. Focus on the blood, I chant to myself, focus on the blood. But no matter how hard I rub, the spot won't come off. "I think it might be dried on," I say.

"Where is it?" he asks twisting over his shoulder to see.

"Right here," I say rubbing again, but then stop cold, really seeing the shape of the spot for the first time.

Etash laughs. "Naya, you're trying to rub off my tattoo."

I hear his words but they are far away because I'm unable to move my eyes off his back. His tattoo? It's small, maybe about a half of an inch. It's darker than the rest of his olive skin. The tattoo is of a lick of fire. I have to sit down.

"Naya?"

Without thinking, I start unbuttoning my pants.

"Whoa, Naya, just because you saw me without a shirt, doesn't mean..."

"Look at me," I snap.

Etash

She sounds frantic, so I look, but all I can see is her underwear.

"Um, those are very nice panties," I admit, very nice. Navy blue with a touch of lace along the edge.

She sighs, "No. Here." She points to a spot just above her tailbone.

"Is this another mark that Seth..." but I can't finish the sentence. It's another mark all right, but this one is not one Seth gave her. This one she gave herself. It's a tattoo of her own: and it's identical to the one on my shoulder. Two perfectly identical licks of fire etched into our skin.

"How ..." I mutter. "I had my tattoo custom made as a sort of joke for Grams. How can you have the exact same one?" My voice was now slow and deliberate, accusatory. There was just no way this could all be a coincidence anymore.

"I got it just after I lost my parents. When he asked what I wanted, I sketched this," Naya says, equally as scared. "I never understood why I drew it...until now."

My head starts to throb, too much information is trying to be absorbed and I can't process it.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Naya asks.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I think I just need to lie down for a minute," I say, surprised by how hollow and absent my voice sounds.

Naya

The sound of Etash closing the door to his room floors me. I shouldn't have showed him my tattoo. I've freaked him out. And now he knows what a complete head case I am too. At least, Seth had understood me for what I am. Maybe he's the only one who ever will. Hurt and now painfully alone, I curl up on the couch and cry myself to sleep.

#  Chapter 14

Etash

I hated shutting her out like that, but my head was killing me, and I couldn't think straight. I was hoping that if I could just get some sleep, I would be fine.

But sleep was not to be found easily. Instead, nightmares consume me; pulling all of the pieces of my recent past together in a mesh of pure and utter confusion. Seth's constant presence during the night torments me. He's always there, just out of reach, wielding his belt, hitting her, over and over again.

I try to get to her, but my feet seem glued to the floor. Seth starts laughing at me, then he picks Naya up and throws her at me like she was a piece of trash.

Her body crashes against mine in the dream, and it's such a relief to feel her against me. Her arms wrapping around me feel so real. My fingers trace the sides of her face, and she smiles at me. My hands start to move slowly down her body, over her shoulders, and down her arms. The tips of my fingers touch the rounded edge of her breasts, before continuing to the small of her waist, where they land firmly against her hips.

This dream just got light years better. It's only when I hear her sigh like really make a real noise in my ear, do I realize this is not a dream. I open my eyes and find her on top of me, her mouth covering mine.

"Naya!" I bolt upright, pushing myself away from her and grabbing the sheet to try and cover my obvious arousal.

"Sorry. You were having a nightmare," she whispers.

"No. I was kissing you," I say, panting a bit.

She blushes. "That's not what I meant. What were you dreaming about?"

I hesitate. I'm not sure I can tell her, at least not about the ending of the dream. "You," I finally say.

"Me? What about me?"

I sigh. "About Seth hurting you again." She looks down at the bed.

"You kissed me," I begin, "while I was having a nightmare?"

"Um...yeah," She says, covering her face with her hands, clearly embarrassed. "I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't wake up. I was shaking you and yelling your name but you just kept screaming. I wasn't thinking, I guess."

Her answer is so honest that I can't help but laugh.

"Naya, don't you know you're not supposed to wake up someone who's having a nightmare?"

"Why not?"

"Because, silly, then the nightmare comes...true," my voice becomes thick as I realize what I've said.

"Who sold you that stupid superstition?"

I swallow hard. "My grandma."

Thankfully, she hasn't picked up on my worry, so I change the subject. "You should go back to sleep," I tell her, glancing at the clock. "It's only like 4:00 in the morning."

"You go ahead. I'll be fine." She starts to slide off the bed, and I can tell she's feeling rejected somehow. My hand slips into hers even before her feet have a chance to hit the floor.

"Then stay," I ask, "for me. I'm afraid I'll start dreaming again if you leave, and-" I don't think I can take that again.

She smiles. "I'll stay."

Settling herself safely on top of the sheets, she leans against the pillows while I sink back under the covers. I turn to face her, and winced as the bandage pulls against my scar. I can feel whatever scabbing had occurred has just been disturbed, but I don't care. I need to see her. See her not in pain. I reach out and find her hand. Perhaps out of pity, she takes it. Feeling her safe beside me, I'm able to slip back into sleep, not waking again until morning.

I'm beaming when I find her sound asleep beside me, a small smile spread across her angelic face. As quietly as I can, I turn back the covers and place them over her, brushing a stray hair from her eyes. My God, she is beautiful.

Tiptoeing out to the kitchen, I put on the tea kettle. Now, what to make for breakfast? I'm just pouring pancake batter into the pan when I hear her open my door.

Naya

When I awake it is morning. Etash isn't beside me and I can't help but long for his presence. My head throbs when I stand up, but then I smell the undeniable aroma of heaven. He got me coffee. I hurry out of bed, suddenly desperate to see him.

"Morning, sleepy head," he says. "I'm making pancakes." I'm not prepared for what I see.

He's standing at the stove supervising a frying pan in his bare feet, wearing only his faded blue jeans and a smile. They are my favorite button down jeans he wore during the auditions. The top button is hanging dangerously open showing off the tip of navy blue boxers.

"Amazing," I gasp.

Mercifully, his face is focused on the frying pan so he doesn't see the drool that is sure to be running down my chin.

"The coffee's done if you want some," he says, turning to point with the spatula.

"Coffee. Right. Good. Coffee would be good," I sputter.

After my first blush-removing sip, I turn to face him and realize he's taken off his bandage.

"Hey! Where's your ice pack?"

He shrugs his shoulders and moves a pancake to the plate beside him.

"I don't need it anymore. The bleeding has stopped."

I frown.

"And I made sure to clean it this morning. Satisfied?"

"Not yet," I say under my breath. Putting my cup down, I rub my temples trying to push back a throbbing that is starting.

Etash turns the heat off the stove and comes over to me, tipping my chin up.

"Head hurt?"

"Yeah, a little," I admit.

"Mine too," he smiles. "There's some aspirin in the medicine cabinet over the sink in the bathroom," he says before he goes back to the pancakes.

"Are those chocolate chips in there?" I ask.

"Yup," he replies with a wink.

"Aspirin and chocolate. What more could a girl want?" He chuckles at me as I head for the bathroom.

Once inside I quickly look at myself in the mirror and groan at my monstrous reflection. _Well, you look attractive!_ Trying to fix the night's damage, I run my fingers through my matted hair before giving up in a huff. I settle for a quick splash of cold water and a swig of his mouthwash to ward off my rank morning breath, before opening the cabinet to retrieve the pills.

"How many pancakes do you want?" Etash's voice sings from the kitchen.

"Um. Two?"

"I'll give you four. You won't be able to stop once you start," he yells back.

I down the aspirin and walk back to the kitchen, surprised by what I see when I get there.

"Breakfast is served, fair Juliet." Etash is standing by his small kitchen table, which he has managed to set while I was in the bathroom. A cup of coffee and orange juice sit at each setting, along with an enormous stack of chocolate chip pancakes in the center of the table.

"Jam or syrup?" he asks, pulling out a chair for me. And right there, in the doorway of his bathroom, I feel a wave of doom wash over me. The image of him being all domestic like should have made me smile and feel safe. But it doesn't. Instead, it makes me realize just how bizarre this whole experience has been. Not two weeks ago, I was a simple college student, and now I am stuck in the middle of something I can't even comprehend. Being with Etash has felt like living in some sort of protective bubble of happiness. And I know in the depths of my soul—that this feeling can't last forever.

Etash

"We're almost there," I say, turning off the highway. I'm nervous as hell for Naya to meet Grams, but seeing her tattoo has spooked me, and I need Grams to calm me down.

"This doesn't look like a nursing home," she says when we pull into the parking lot.

"Yeah, this one is pretty cool. Only eight women live here. They each have their own bedroom that actually looks like a bedroom and not a hospital room, there's a common room with a fireplace and a real kitchen where they all eat together as a family. You know, like at a real dining table."

"Wow. That sounds wonderful."

"It is." I get out of the car and walk around to get Naya's door, offering my hand as I do. She seems reluctant to take it, but after a moment, she does.

"Come on," I say, pulling her towards the front door.

When we get inside I can see her taking in the beauty of the home, and smile. She places her hand on the worn banister and I swear she's wondering about past hands gliding along this railing as I always do.

"Is there an elevator here? I mean, they can't all make it up these stairs, can they?"

I nod behind me. "Behind the stairwell. But most of the residents who live upstairs won't use it. Those in wheelchairs and walkers live on the first floor. There are only four women up here, and they're all tough old broads. They refuse to use the elevator, even if they're tired." Stubborn fools.

"The nurses have the area on the third floor for offices and stuff. I've only been up there once. That's the only part of this house that does look like a hospital."

We reach the second floor and my heart speeds up. I am unbelievably anxious for Grams to meet Naya.

"She's right over here."

Upstairs, the four dark wood doors encircling the stairwell greet us. Both Martha's and Helen's doors are closed, as usual. They are both in their late eighties and spend most of their time behind closed doors. It's a relief to see Grams' door open, but I wonder grimly, how many more years it will stay open. I hesitate in the hallway.

"Um, I should probably check to see if she's okay for company today."

"Sure, no problem. I'll wait here," Naya says, going toward the window.

"I'll just be a minute." Reluctantly, I release her hand. My hand feels cold after, so I tuck it into my pocket and peek inside. "Grams? You awake?"

"Etash! You came. I knew you'd come," her small voice replies. I go in and close the door behind me.

She's starting to get up from her chair, and I rush over to her side.

"Sit, Grams, don't get up."

"You bring her to me, yes?" Her eyes are twinkling.

I smile. "Yes, she's right outside. I just wanted to make sure you were okay for visitors today."

Grams shakes her head at me. "Etash, how often you think I get to meet a Twin Flame? Okay or no, I will no miss the chance to meet her." She brushes her fingers along my face. "Bring her to me!"

Naya

As I wait, I glance out the window which overlooks a large, lush backyard filled with flowers and a small vegetable patch. There is a resident outside pruning a rose bush while a younger woman is kneeling down beside her laying fresh mulch.

"You here to see Naimi?" a voice says from behind me. Startled, I spin around.

"Oh dear, I didn't mean to frighten you, hon," the woman says. "I'm Grace. I live next door to Naimi." She looks to be in her early eighties, tall and frail looking. Her thin gray hair is styled perfectly, and she's wearing a string of delicate pearls around her neck. "You one of her grand-kids?" she asks.

"Um, no. I'm...a friend of her grandson, Etash."

She smiles. "A friend, huh? That's not what we called them in my day." I blush a deep red.

"We attend the same college," I say as if that simple fact would explain our friendship as nothing more than platonic.

"Well, I'm glad Etash has found a 'friend.' I was starting to get worried."

"Worried?" I ask.

Her expression changes as though she has been caught telling more than she should. "It's just... after his accident, you know, his scar and all. We all thought he'd be doomed to be alone forever." I open my mouth to speak, but no words come. Grace moves closer to the window and looks out.

"Course, Naimi knew different. She knew he'd find you. That'll teach me for doubting her. She's always right. She has a gift, that one."

I look at her, perplexed, but she just continues to stare out the window.

"Naya," Etash's voice calls from behind me. "She's okay for company. Hello, Grace." He waves politely to Grace.

"Morning, Etash. Good to see you," she coos back, then she turns back to me, gives me a quick wink before she slips down the stairs.

Quickly, I make my way over to Etash, who holds out his hand again for me. "Ready?" he asks.

Nodding slowly, we walk inside.

The room is large and open. Sunlight pours in from two enormous bay windows. There is a small bed covered with an ivory bedspread off to one side and a small sitting area next to a fireplace. His grandmother is seated in a pale green wing-back chair and is dressed in a light blue silk dress. She stands as we get closer.

Her small frame surprises me, but there is no mistaking her for Etash's relation. He has her exact same coloring and the same delicate oval shape of her eyes. She smiles kindly at me and offers me a seat across from her.

"Naya! It is wonderful to finally meet you!" I bite my lip, strangely embarrassed.

Etash

"This is her, Etash. It is her!" Naya looks at me nervously.

She leans in and touches Naya's knee gently. "I knew you would come into his life." She sits back into her chair, grinning smugly at me.

"Grams..." I say, rolling my eyes, "don't start in with that, okay?"

A look of shock fills Grams' face. She cocks her head and sits up a little straighter.

"Do not tell me that you still do not believe, Etash? After all, I have told you? After everything that happened to you?" She is getting upset and that is not good for her blood pressure.

"You know, Grams, maybe this wasn't a good idea," I say, taking Naya's hand and pulling her up from her chair. But Grams ignores me and looks at Naya.

"You two are destined for each other." She pulls Naya back down into the seat. I start to intervene, but Naya waves a hand at me signaling that she's okay.

"Your paths are forever connected," Grams says with an authoritative nod. "It should have happened years ago, of course, but your flame was not strong enough yet. It is strong now. I feel it." My hand tightens on Naya's.

"What do you mean before?" Naya starts to ask.

"Grams," I begin, but before I can get a word out, Grams' hands clasps Naya's. She turns her palm up and bends her head down to inspect it.

"Grams, stop."

"Um, what is she doing?" Naya asks me, trying unsuccessfully, to yank her hand away.

I sigh, embarrassed. "She's trying to read your palm. Grams, come on, don't make me call a nurse," I warn.

But she doesn't let go of Naya. She is deep in concentration, no longer able to hear me or my idle threats. All at once her face goes pale and fills with fear.

"Stay away from the ice man," she says urgently, shaking Naya.

Naya looks at me, not sure what to do.

"Okay, Grams, let her go now." I move behind Grams to pull her away from Naya, but she's fighting hard against me. She's stronger than she looks.

"The ice man will smother both your flames!" Grams is frantic now.

"Grams?" I give her a shake, but she stays frozen. "Nurse!"

I manage to get her back into her chair and grab the emergency cord. Two nurses come running in through the door a moment later and take over for me. Right away they tell me her blood pressure is through the roof.

"I'm so sorry about that. This was clearly not a good idea," I tell Naya after we've been on the road for awhile. She hasn't spoken a word since we've left and her silence is killing me.

Naya

I know I probably should be thinking about his grandmother and her 'vision', but I'm not. Although her intense stare did frighten me a bit, Etash warned me that she was delusional and I'm old enough not to believe in people being able to read palms.

All I can think about right now is last night. About how I was kissing him, and more importantly, how he put an end to it. That's twice now he's pushed me away when I kissed him. Twice. And then it hits me, like a swift kick to the gut. He doesn't feel the same way. But it's not like he can just kick me out. He's too much of a gentleman to send me back to Seth, so he's forced to keep me around. Forced to put up with my unwanted advances.

It's painfully obvious now. I feel like such a fool.

Etash

Just when I'm about to go crazy from her silence, she finally speaks.

"I'll leave as soon as we get back," Naya says. Her bottom lip quivers a touch. That's it! This ends now.

Like an ass, I slam on the brakes and pull over to the side of the road, ignoring the blaring horns passing me by. When the car stops, I rip off my seat belt and storm over to her side, yanking her door open as well.

"Get out!" I order. She does so, slowly, and I slam the door behind her. "Look at me!" I yell over the sound of cars flying past us.

When she does, her eyes are sad and determined. I'm not going to lose her because of what Grams said. I just won't. I have to make her understand.

I trace my fingers along her face and she gasps but doesn't pull away. Taking her chin in my hand as tenderly as I can muster, I have only one thought: you're mine. It's such a dark and primitive thought, that I am disgusted with myself for thinking it, but I can't help myself. My entire body is claiming her as my own.

"Why? Why do you want to leave? It's because of what Grams said, right?" I meet her eyes, searching.

"No, it's not her, okay? Look, I can't talk about this here! Can we please just go back?" She looks timidly over her shoulder to the highway.

Etash! You idiot! Of course, she's freaking out. You've got her standing out on a busy highway, just like the one where her parents were killed.

She slinks away from me and sinks back into the car. I feel like a complete jackass.

I don't dare say another word the entire ride back and it's maddening. I have no idea what she is thinking. She's rigid and determined.

When we finally pull into the driveway, she jumps out of the car and races up the stairs. She's running away from me.

She tries to step inside, but her attempt is thwarted when she finds the door locked. As I approach her, she pushes herself as far away from me as my tiny entrance allows. My arm brushes against hers and she shudders.

I walk in ahead of her. A moment later she comes in and starts to immediately pack up her things. My stomach turns. _I'm going to lose her._

#  Chapter 15

Naya

When I go to leave, he tries to stop me by shutting the door. I clench my teeth and square my shoulders. You have to be strong, Naya.

"Please move out of the way. I'd like to leave now."

"I don't understand," he asks. "What did I do?"

"Etash, this is embarrassing enough without having to spell it out for you." I move my book bag up my shoulder, not able to even look at him. A second later, the bag has been ripped off my shoulders.

"Damn it, Naya! You're not leaving!"

He is pissed.

"Don't listen to my grandmother! I told you she was delusional. She doesn't know what she's talking about!" He slams his fist against the door frame, causing it to shake.

"This isn't your grandma," I sigh.

"Then what is it? What did I do?"

He's not going to make this easy. I turn my back to him. I can't look in his eyes when I say this.

"I so can't believe you're making me say this, but apparently you enjoy being cruel." My shoulders slump. "I get that you're not...into me. But it's just too hard to be near you knowing that what I feel is one-sided." I exhale a quick, shaky breath and try to steady myself. "So, if it's all right with you, I'd like to leave now." Bracing myself, I turn to face him. I expect to see pity on his face. But instead, I find fury.

"No. No, it's not all right with me. You are not leaving me again. Ever. Do you understand me?" He grabs my shoulders and shakes me a little.

"No. I don't understand," I whisper.

"You're wrong, Naya," he says through clenched teeth. "I am very much into you. Probably too much, and I am not letting you go."

His eyes burn into mine, putting me into a trance that I never want to come out from.

"But, when I kissed you before...you didn't—you just stopped—that night, you pushed me away. I know rejection when I see it." And he had rejected me; twice. But Etash's expression is grim.

"The only reason I didn't kiss you back that night was because I knew I would have been taking advantage of you. I mean, after all, you were only kissing me to wake me from a dream. To kiss you back would have been assuming a hell of a lot on my part."

I'm really confused now.

"Then you...wanted to kiss me?"

"Not only wanted to but want to; every minute of every day. I don't think you understand, Naya. You consume my thoughts, my dreams. You are everything to me."

His eyes close for a moment before he pulls me into his arms, holding onto me tightly, as though he's afraid of what might happen when he lets go. He really doesn't want me to leave. How could I have been so wrong about this?

Etash

I pull back from her, taking her chin in my hand. Everything about this moment is ripe for our first real kiss. Just one kiss and I can convince her that she is loved. Can be loved by someone who will never hurt her the way that monster has.

But of course, at that moment, the phone rings. Pissed beyond belief, I rip the phone off the wall.

"Someone better be dying," I snap, but then stop short. "Mom? Mom, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" I listen to my mother's words as she explains, but they don't seem to register.

"Etash? What is it? What happened?" Naya asks.

"Grams just had a heart attack."

Focusing hard, I listen to what my mother tells me. She's still alive but in ICU.

"I'm on my way," I tell her, hanging up the phone. Naya takes my hand and the gesture brings tears to my eyes. "I have to go back and see her," I whimper.

"Of course, you do. I'm coming with you."

She pulls me into her arms and holds me. I want to stay here with her forever, but I can't. I need to see Grams.

Naya convinces me to let her drive back, and she's right, I'm in no condition to drive. She keeps the radio on low on some top-forty station and the soft music makes my lids heavy. I don't mean to doze off, but before I know it, she's waking me up, asking for directions to the hospital.

When we pull into the garage, I spot my parents' red Blazer a few cars down. "My folks are still here."

"Etash, please don't take this the wrong way," she says, shifting the car into park, "but, I really think I should stay in the car."

"What? No. I'm not leaving you here."

She turns to look at me. "This is a time for family."

I start to protest, but she holds up a finger to stop me.

"I don't want to risk upsetting her again," she flashes me her sad eyes. She thinks this is her fault.

"Naya," I begin.

"I'm not going anywhere," she pats my leg. "I'll be right here when you get back. I promise. You need to be with your family now."

I am so conflicted I don't know what I should do.

"Go to her. I'll be fine." Her eyes are sincere, kind. Reluctantly, I leave her side and go check on Grams.

Naya

Watching him enter the hospital I am overcome with emotion. I simply cannot believe how wrong I had been. He does feel the way I do, and I am both stunned and giddy at the same time.

I reach into the back seat for my bag, glad that I had enough foresight to bring a few books with me to read. Picking out my drama lit book, I thumb the pages to find where I had left off with Antigone. But every time I start to read, Etash's face flashes in my mind and causes me to blush. So I give up trying to read and instead lower the car seat and settle myself down in it. Sleep takes me almost immediately.

The sound of my phone wakes me. Instinctively, I reach for it and answer before I realize whose call I've just taken.

"What do you want, Seth?"

"You know what I want, baby. I want you to come home." The all too familiar plea resonates in his voice.

"It's too late. I'm with Etash now. Don't call me again."

Quickly, before I can change my mind, I hang up and turn my phone off and cram it down into the bottom of my bag.

When I hang up, I spot Etash coming out of the hospital. One look at his face and I can tell something has happened—something bad.

"What is it? What happened?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. He tries to look away, but I place my hand on his face to pull his eyes back to me.

"Etash? Your grandma is she...?" I can't say the words.

Etash

"Walk with me," I say, pulling her out of the car. I don't know where I'm taking her, but I've got to get her out of this dark, cold garage. I need to be someplace warm with her, somewhere in the sun.

She follows me silently, worry creasing her brow. Once outside of the garage, I find a small outdoor sitting area beside the hospital, dragging her along with me until I find a bench.

"How is your grandmother?" she begs, only sitting after I do.

"She's recovering, but..." That's not what's on my mind.

"But what? Etash, what aren't you telling me?"

"She seems to be okay right now. She's awake, but she's incoherent."

"Well, that's to be expected, isn't it?" she asks.

I take a deep breath before continuing. "Naya, she keeps saying a name. One name, over and over again."

She cocks her head to the side, trying to follow me.

"Whose?" she asks finally.

Swallowing hard. "Seth's. She keeps saying Seth's name." Her face goes white.

"You told her about him?" she asks me.

"I mentioned you had a boyfriend, but I never said his name. Not once."

"Well then, how did she...?" She looks up at me with big worried eyes.

Grams' earlier warning suddenly screams inside my head: 'Beware the Ice Man.' Now she's chanting Seth's name. Seth, who as fate would have it, has icy blue eyes. I pull her into my arms, shielding her from the worry in my eyes.

"Promise me, Naya," I say into her hair, "Promise me you won't see Seth again."

"I won't," she whispers. I hold her so tightly that I'm afraid I might be hurting her.

"Come on. Let's go home. There isn't anything more we can do tonight."

I don't like that she's out in the open. It feels too vulnerable somehow. Like he's watching her. I need her someplace where I can protect her and lock the doors behind us.

And that's exactly what I do the minute I get her inside the apartment. I make tea even though I know neither of us wants it. It's a reflex. I will the water to boil faster, while I pull out mugs and plop two herbal tea bags in the cups, give the cream a quick sniff, and bring the tray out to the living room.

But Naya will not be having any tea tonight. While I was busy in the kitchen she has managed to curl herself up into a tight ball on my couch.

"She sleeps," I say softly. Sitting beside her, I sip my tea and watch her. Seeing her there safe and sound calms me down tremendously.

After about an hour, I triple check the locks, then carefully scoop her up in my arms and carry her into my bed. She makes only the smallest of cooing sounds as I settle her under the covers. I want nothing more than to slide in beside her, just to be able to hold her, but I don't. Instead, I grab a pillow from the couch and lie down on the floor beside her, not even bothering with a blanket. I'm content to just lie beside her. Before I know it, I too, am fast asleep.

When I awake a few hours later, I am surprisingly warm. Lifting my lids in the darkness, I can see my comforter wrapped around me. Sitting up, I look over and see the bed is empty. Instantly, my heart starts racing. I fling off the covers and I am about to start screaming her name when I almost trip over her curled-up body on the floor beside me.

"Naya," I whisper, feeling my heart pounding in my ears, "you are going to be the death of me." She doesn't answer because, thankfully, she is still asleep. Getting back down on the floor, I can't help but drape my arm around her waist and pull myself close to her, smelling her hair as it falls against my face. She sighs and pulls my hand around her tighter, still deep in sleep. Content, I close my eyes and join her.

I have never wanted to hurt an inanimate object so much in my life, as I want to hurt my alarm in the morning. The sound alone is justification for its death, but the fact that it has one, woken Naya, and two, forced me out of her arms in order to shut the damn thing off is ample cause for its destruction. Cursing profanities as I go, I hear Naya giggle softly, and I am instantly calmed. I yank the cord out from the wall and walk back to her, hesitant about what happens now.

Naya

He is positively stunning standing above me in just his pajama bottoms, feet bare, his hair tousled.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Eight." He scratches the back of his head.

I sigh. The weekend is over. It's time to go back to school. School. It seems like such a trivial thing now in light of everything that has happened this weekend.

"Guess we'd better get ready for class then," I say, getting up, trying to stretch out my muscles which are stiff from sleeping on the floor.

He stands there for a moment, cocking his head to the side and smiling. He comes over to me and wraps his arms around my waist. His touch is electric.

"We don't have to go back yet. We can take some time off."

It has been a non-stop roller coaster ride, but I can't skip out on my obligations. That just isn't me.

"No. I'm not going to run away from my problems anymore," I say, determined to believe my own words. "I'm not going to sit here and hide from him. He needs to know that I've moved on, and the only way to do that is for me to actually move on."

"I don't want you anywhere near him," he rebuts.

I am comforted that he wants to protect me, but I can't live cooped up forever.

"He's not in any of my classes, so there's no need to worry." I walk over to my bag and start pulling out some clothes.

"But he'll be on the campus, Naya."

"True, but neither one of us can do anything about that," I sigh. Etash's face crumples with worry. "He just needs time to cool off, that's all." He doesn't look convinced. "We were together for two years; it's going to take him some time to get used to the idea that we're not together anymore."

It's going to take time for both of us. Seth is all I've ever known, and being away from him is almost as scary as going back to him.

"Does that mean you're with me now?" Etash whispers.

"If you'll have me," I whisper back, embarrassed by how utterly tacky I sound. He doesn't seem to notice, however, because a slow smile spreads across his face.

"I've been waiting for you all my life," he says, making me go weak in the knees. We both reach out for the other. His hands cradle my face gingerly and I surrender myself to him willingly. Our lips find each other easily and I melt against him. His touch brings intoxicating licks of fire up my spine. I bury my hands in his hair, pulling him closer, hungry for more. His hands leave my face and trail down the small of my back.

In all my life I have never been kissed like this; have never experienced this feeling of wanting nothing more than to be totally consumed by another person. He moans softly in my ear before he pulls gently away from me.

Etash

Her eyes are still closed as I pull away from her, and I feel comforted that she doesn't want the feeling to end either. But I have to be the strong one. I have to cool off. Now.

"We'll be late for class," I manage to struggle out.

"Right," she says with a loud sigh. "I'll make us some tea."

"Tea would be good," I say, scratching my head. Tea and a nice ice-cold shower.

When we walk into our acting class we get a few stares, but these are the type of stares I don't mind getting. Her hand never leaves mine except for when she has to go into the changing rooms.

When she comes back out, she's talking quietly with Kari. She has a small knowing grin on her lips which can only mean Naya's been filling her in about some gossip-worthy events of our whirlwind weekend.

After class, we are forced to go our separate ways; she has to go to Drama Lit and I have to go to work. Our parting kiss is soft and gentle and causes her to blush. Kari finally has to drag her away from me and I watch her disappear from view as she slips into the building. I'm comforted that Kari is with her. Kari will keep her safe.

As I turn to head for the bookstore, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach brews, like I'm being watched. I glance around but don't see anything out of place; people are scurrying to and from classes, getting into their cars in the student parking lot—nothing that should cause alarm, but there is something in the air that sends a chill through my bones.

The bookstore is still crowded when I clock in and probably will be for the next few weeks as people add and drop classes. The soft hum of shoppers is oddly comforting; it helps drown out my paranoid thoughts.

My shift lasts an hour longer than Naya's class, so we agree to meet up at the library. I've only been away from her for three hours, but even so, my heart is aching to see her.

I find her instantly. She's sitting in one of the big comfy chairs, reading. I'm only a few steps into the library when she looks up at me, and I know she has sensed my arrival. The smile that spreads across her lips makes my heart do flip-flops. _What have I done to deserve her?_

"Hey," she says biting her lip playfully.

"Hey yourself," I say, and even though I know public displays of affection are frowned upon, I can't stop myself from pulling her into my arms and greeting her properly.

Someone clears her throat behind me.

"Hi." It's Kari. I hadn't even noticed her sitting next to Naya. Talk about tunnel vision.

"Oh, hi. I didn't see you there," I confess, pushing Naya back to a respectable distance.

Kari's got a smirk on her face. "Naya invited me to have dinner with you guys, but perhaps I should bail...give you guys some time alone," she chides smugly.

"We would love time with you more," I lie.

Kari laughs and grabs her book bag, and as a group, we head to the cafeteria before tonight's rehearsal. I'm not entirely comfortable going to the cafeteria because I'm afraid we'll run into Seth, and the last thing I want to do is upset Naya, but she doesn't seemed bothered at all about the possibility, and is, in fact, grinning ear to ear. Once we get to the cafeteria, I find out why.

"Mmm, mac and cheese...my favorite," Naya swoons. She and Kari rush over and hand over their plates. I shake my head.

"It's just mac and cheese," I say.

Kari looks at me, horrified.

"You have obviously never tasted this mac and cheese," she says.

Afraid I'll get pummeled if I don't order it, I get the mac and cheese, and I'm happy to say, I'm not disappointed. It really is that good.

We linger over coffee, laughing at each other's jokes and reservations about the play, and that's when I see him hovering in the corner of the room, just standing there, watching us. He makes no move to come to our table, he just stands there, observing. And for some reason, that is far creepier than a confrontation.

"We should go," I say, a bit too abruptly to go unnoticed. I force a smile.

"Why? We still have a half an hour?" Naya says, searching my eyes for something I don't want her to see.

"True, but there is a new move I want to show Elizabeth, and I haven't taught it to you yet," I say, improvising.

"You two go ahead, I want to finish my coffee," Kari says, taking a sip, and grinning at Naya wickedly.

Naya

I can tell Etash is hiding something from me. He's rushing me to the theatre and keeps looking over his shoulder, pretending to be casual about it. But he doesn't fool me. I can only assume he saw Seth in the cafeteria and is trying to be protective.

Unfortunately, seeing Seth is going to be an inevitability. We attend the same school for crying out loud—we're bound to bump into each other. He can't honestly think he's going to shield me from seeing Seth for the next four years. But one look at his grim face tells me that, yes, he does mean to do just that.

"You can't protect me from him forever," I say, squeezing his hand. His face grows hard.

"Yes, I can."

I want to believe him, but deep down, I know I haven't seen the last of my ex yet.

#  Chapter 16

Naya

Whatever Etash has been doing to keep Seth at bay, it seems to be working. It's been almost three weeks now and I have yet to run into Seth once. I've almost begun to think he may have dropped out of school, except I still see his car in the parking lot every now and again and wonder if he's just decided to be big about this and move on with his life. I honestly hope so, because even though he was abusive to me, it doesn't mean that I don't think he deserves to feel loved because I do. I truly believe that there is someone out there that can fix him the way Etash has fixed me. He just needs to have the patience to wait for her.

As each day passes without incident, Etash and I grow closer and closer. We've taken to sleeping in the same bed since one of us would always end up on the floor next to the other at some point in the night anyway. He has never once pressured me about sex, and I know he never will. He has taught me what it feels like to be respected and that oddly, makes me want him even more.

The best part of these last few weeks has been our rehearsals. Each day Etash and I find yet another nuance that brings out more about our characters and ourselves. When we dance, it's as though I don't have to think at all; I just let my body respond to his pull and the result is magic.

As Elizabeth predicted, the audience will be floored. She has been beside herself with glee, constantly raving to others about what a brilliant casting job she has done.

Everything is going along so smoothly that I almost forget about Seth altogether, almost. He does still manage to invade my dreams, appearing as some sort of threatening force in one way or another. I don't tell Etash about them, however because it would only upset him. The nightmares are my burdens to bear, not his.

"So," Kari says coyly at a break during rehearsal, "how are things going with you and lover boy?" She gives me a sly grin, which causes me to blush.

"Things are going great," I tell her honestly.

She bumps her shoulder against me and leans in close. "How is he?"

"How is he, what?"

"You know. How is he in bed?" She takes a swig of her soda.

"I honestly wouldn't know," I say, my cheeks burning.

"Come on, you can't tell me that you two haven't been banging each other. It's all over your faces for crying out loud!"

I shush her. "For your information, I'm still a virgin," I confess with a level of superiority. Kari almost blows soda out her nose.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

She's laughing pretty hard but stops once she sees how dead-pan I am.

"Shut up! Are you serious?" She's looking at me wide-eyed now.

I cross my arms over my chest. "I don't know why that is so hard to believe"

"It's not that, it's just... you two are so intimate together, I just assumed. And then you went with the other guy for so long, I just..." She stops herself.

"Assumed I had slept with him too?" I'm glaring at her now.

"Well, yeah. But I guess that's only because Seth never seemed like the type of guy who was willing to wait around if you know what I mean. I mean he's already shacked up with that Monica girl from your Stage Craft class."

My jaw drops.

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew?" Kari says, touching my arm. I don't know why this news upsets me, but it does. I suppose it hurts knowing how quickly you can be replaced.

Just then, Daphne, our Stage Manager, taps me on the shoulder.

"Hey, Naya. This was posted on the call board for you." She hands me a small folded slip of paper that has my name on it.

"Thanks," I say.

Unfolding the note, I recognize the handwriting at once. It's from Seth.

Etash

Naya is very quiet on the ride back to the apartment. I've tried several times to make her laugh, but she's just staring out the window, watching the rain fall on the glass. She's thinking hard about something, but I can tell she doesn't plan on telling me about it. And that infuriates me.

It's not until I get her inside that I dare say anything. She's hunched over the kitchen table attempting to study and I sit down beside her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I ask.

"Hmm?" she says, pretending she doesn't hear me. I close her book shut, forcing her to pay attention to me.

"What's going on? You've been quiet all afternoon." My brow wrinkles in concern.

She looks at me for a moment, her face twists into a knot, and the next thing I know she crawls across the table and starts to rip my shirt off, kissing my chest and running her hands through my hair like a woman possessed. No, not possessed—drugged.

It takes all my strength, but I push her off me. "No! Naya! Not like this!" I yell.

But my warning doesn't stop her. She comes back at me, thrusting her soft tongue inside my mouth. Her body feels so good wrapped around mine that it's all I can do to restrain myself. I grab her wrists and push her back against the wall, holding her hands above her head.

"No," I say again, struggling to catch my breath. "Not while you're drugged." The passion drains out of her eyes in an instant.

"I'm not—how did you know?" she whispers, tears starting to stream down her face. My heart breaks. I release her hands, pulling her into my chest where she continues to sob.

"The way you were acting, it was just like last time."

"Last time?"

I exhale deeply. "It's not the first time you've done this to me."

Her eyes grow wide. She's embarrassed.

"How many times have I done this?"

I shift uncomfortably. "With me, only twice. I don't know how many times you've done it with Seth." I just about spit his name.

She stands up and starts shaking her head. "I've never done this with Seth. I told you. I'm a virgin."

No, you're not.

She needs to know the truth.

"Naya, the night Seth and I got into a fight, he kind of told me what he'd been doing to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"He told me about how he used to drug you, to get you to have sex with him."

Her face goes from confusion to disbelief.

"You mean he...?" she can't finish the thought, and neither can I, so instead I just pull her close to me.

Naya

Even though my head is spinning from the drugs, I'm still conscious enough to realize how stupid I've been. How absolutely gullible, naive and foolish I have been to think that Seth would have ever respected my wishes to wait until I was ready for sex. Why should he have to wait for something he had already claimed as his?

"You need to press charges against him," Etash says. I can hear the hate in his voice. He wants me to agree with him, to feel so outraged by what Seth has done to me that I will want to make him pay. But I just shake my head.

"If I press charges against him, this won't be over. This whole nightmare will continue to drag on."

I get up and walk over to the window and stare out at the setting sun. I don't want to think about Seth ever again. "Pressing charges means I'll be forced to see him again, to think about him. And I don't want that. I don't ever want to think about him or all of the miserable things he's done to me ever again." I turn and look at Etash who is looking at me hopelessly. "Is that being too selfish?"

He comes over to me and holds me tightly, holding back tears as he breathes in my hair. "You just need time to think about this. To think about how he could do this to someone else."

I wonder instantly about his new girlfriend, Monica.

"But until you're ready," he says, "I'll support you."

A few tears trickle down my check.

"That's something I haven't had in a really long time. Support. Thank you."

His lips press against mine and I absorb all of his healing energy, molding my body against his. The strength of his arms holds me together—keeps me from slipping under the weight the drugs are forcing on me. I know that soon I will have to sleep the wooziness off, but right now I can't pull myself away from his touch. His lips linger on mine for a moment longer before he pulls away.

"Why? Why did you take your meds today?" The hurt behind his eyes kills me. It's as if he blames himself for me having to take them. It would be cruel not to tell him.

"Because," I begin, "something happened today which I thought might trigger a panic attack if I didn't take them." He goes rigid in my arms.

"What happened?"

I push past him to get my book bag and produce the note Seth had left for me. When I place it in his hand, the room starts to lose focus. Damn it! I sit down on the couch before I fall. Sleep is coming now whether I want it to or not, but before my eyes give out on me, I'm able to make out Etash's face as he unfolds the note. He is not happy.

Etash

There are only three words on the scrap of paper she hands me. _I'm watching you._ It's not signed, but we both know who it's from. I look back at Naya, who has now fallen asleep, and I curse. _That's it!_ I'm calling the police. He's crossed a line.

An hour later I slam down the phone having got absolutely nowhere with local or campus police. They each are requiring Naya to come and make a statement before they can take any action and I know that she won't do that, yet. Fine. If she won't do something, I will.

Being as quiet as I can, I grab Naya's cell phone and go to her contact list. Seth is still listed. I punch the numbers quickly, shaking with anger.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Naya! Baby, I knew you'd come to your senses." His smugness is nauseating.

"She's not your baby," I hiss.

The line is silent for a moment.

"Where is she?" he demands.

"She's safe. She's with me."

He laughs quietly on the other end. "For now."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I spit. He had better not be threatening her or I will kill him.

"It means that she'll come back to me," he says, bored with me. "This isn't the first time she's tried to leave me, you know. But you know what? She always comes back, begging me for forgiveness." The taunting of his voice is sickening.

"She'll never come back to you again. She's mine now." I can't believe how possessive I'm being but I won't have him talking like that about her.

He starts laughing. "Oh, she'll come back, you can bet your life on it."

The line goes dead in my ear. I'm so furious that I slam her phone to the floor, causing it to shatter into pieces.

For the rest of the night, I stand vigil by her side, monitoring her breath and keeping her warm. But I've also dimmed the lights, locked all the windows and dead-bolted the door. I have a baseball bat at my feet and I'm itching to hit something with it.

When another hour passes with no change in her breathing, I resign myself to the fact that she's going to be out for the rest of the night. Scooping her up gently in my arms, I carry her to my bed. I slip off her shoes, then pull the blankets up, tucking them neatly under her chin.

After rechecking the locks and grabbing the bat, I crawl in beside her and spoon myself around her warm body, needing to feel her next to me. When my heart slows its rhythm to beat in time with hers, I close my eyes and drift off as well.

Naya

The next morning, and into the following days, I can tell that there is something on Etash's mind, which I can only hope is just Seth's stupid note and not how crazy I acted while on my pills. I don't tell him I flushed the rest of my prescription down the toilet the minute I woke up. I will not allow myself to be out of control with him ever again. I don't want Etash ever to think any affection I show him is not of my own free will. I would have flushed the remainder of my second bottle, but I can't seem to find it in any of my bags. I must have left it back at the dorms, so it's as good as gone now anyway. I'm never going back there.

I'm surprised that he doesn't start a discussion about what's bothering him, but I don't volunteer to start the conversation either, hoping that the whole thing will just go away. After all, Seth was probably just blowing off steam when he wrote that note, or drunk, which is the most realistic scenario. Since the arrival of his note, however, I can't help but feel on edge. Like how I swear I see him peeking in from a window outside the theatre watching our rehearsals, or how I think I catch him watching me in the parking lot as I get into Etash's car. But it's all ridiculous; my mind playing tricks on me. I know he's not really there. This whole thing is just a head game he's trying to play with me, and it infuriates me to no end that it's working.

Even though he won't talk about the note, Etash is certainly acting on it. He hardly ever lets me out of his sight lately. If he's not able personally to 'watch' me, then he makes sure Kari or another trusted friend is with me at all times. It's starting to wear on my nerves. But I can't say anything because if I do, it will force me to fess up about my own worries about Seth, and that would just make the babysitting even worse. As it is, I've had to plead with him not to drop his shifts at the bookstore. He only agreed to keep them if I came with him. Which is both asinine and brilliant. It makes the perfect excuse for me to get most of my homework done, but I do miss the freedom of where and when I am allowed to study.

As each day goes by without further incident, I grow more and more comfortable in my own skin, and any worries I have during the day are erased the moment I'm with Etash.

We spend each night together in the same bed, just holding each other. It's an entirely foreign feeling for me to want more from Etash's touch after so many years of feeling nothingness.

Every night I try to get a little more intimacy from him, but like clockwork, he pulls away, mumbling something under his breath about my trying to kill him. No matter how many times I tell him that I want to be intimate, he won't budge on the matter.

That doesn't keep me from trying, though. Every night. And tonight is no exception.

After he turns off the light before bed, I make a bold move in the darkness and remove my nightshirt, leaving me bare-chested. Try and resist this!

I slink back under the covers and resume my normal position of lying on my side with my back to him. He lifts up the covers on his side of the bed, spoons up against me. When wraps his arm around my waist, he freezes.

"Something wrong?" I say, in a sing-song voice.

He doesn't answer me, but grunts, digging his fingers into my side, as though he doesn't trust them to move from this spot. So I help him out. I place my hand on his for a moment, until his fingers relax against mine, then, like lightning, I yank his hand up to cup my breast. He gasps and tries to pull his hand away, but I hold it there firmly.

"Please," I beg. "Just touch me."

He buries his face into my hair, and there is such pain in his words, I almost cry. "I can't. I don't trust myself to stop."

"I don't want you to stop," I reply, rolling over pressing his lips against mine. He moans as my tongue caresses his. Slowly his hand finds its way back to my breast and he cradles it so tenderly that I cry out in pleasure. The heat of his fingers as they trace my nipple makes me beg for more.

But then, so fast I don't have time to stop him, he yanks himself free and rolls himself off the bed with a loud grunt; he grabs a pillow off the bed to hide his lower half, then heads for the door, turning over his shoulder before he goes.

"I'll just be in the shower," he says and then leaves me alone and extremely frustrated.

After a restless night, I wake up to find the pillow beside me empty, save for a note on it. My heart quickens. 'Happy Opening Night. You're going to knock them dead.'

Opening Night. Has it really been four weeks since we met? I smile and clutch the note to my chest and then smell coffee. I leap out of bed to give him a big hug, but frown when I hear the shower on.

All right. Coffee first. After I take a big swig, I turn on the tea kettle for Etash and smile. This is going to be a good day.

Etash

When I get out of the shower, I hear the tea kettle screaming. I smile. Naya's up and she's making me tea. I wait for the sound of it to die down, but when it doesn't, I get scared. Why isn't she turning off the kettle?

Fear creeps into my veins. Seth. I rush out of the shower, stopping only to grab a towel and wrap it around my waist before I fling open the door. I'm not prepared for what I see.

Naya

While the tea water is boiling, I go into the living room with my coffee and smile. Everything feels so right. His Grams is back at the nursing home, Seth hasn't called me again, and our show opens tonight. All of our hard work is going to finally pay off.

As I walk into the room I go over to his giant floor-to-ceiling bookcase. The shelves are crammed tight with classic novels, books of poetry and textbooks. There is even a pile started on the floor. There are picture frames and a few random knick-knacks sitting scattered along the few empty areas of the shelves.

A small blue frame catches my eye. It's Etash sitting on a rock overlooking a lake. So, he's outdoorsy too? Go figure. Then I notice a larger family photo perched on one of the higher shelves. Setting my cup down, I reach for the photo. I have to stand on my tiptoes to get it. A thin layer of dust is on the picture, which I wipe off with my thumb. When the dust is gone, I can see that it's a picture of Etash when he was 10 or 11, maybe. He's grinning like the Cheshire cat, holding a fish just caught. I take a small intake of air when I notice that he didn't have his scar yet. A small pain throbs in the pit of my stomach, mourning for the little boy with the once perfect face. I frown. He still is perfect. Turning my attention to the woman in the photo, I notice that she's a dead ringer for Etash, right down to his glowing skin. This must be his mom. Suddenly, I can't wait to meet this woman, to assure her that I will take good care of the son she so clearly loves.

I glance next at his father, standing taller than the others. The father doesn't look anything like Etash: pale skin, blond hair, and big, white teeth. I recall Etash mentioning that his father was American, so the fact that he's white shouldn't shock me, but somehow it does.

There is still a bit of dust covering his father, and I want to see what traits Etash picked up from him. After a quick scrub, I focus in on the dad. Huh. He looks a little like the man who... I rub more of the dust away. No. Not a little alike. I swallow hard. He looks a lot like him. Small beads of sweat start forming at my temples. It couldn't be? Could it? The photo slips out of my hands and shatters at my feet.

Etash

"Naya!" I yell, coming out of the bathroom. She's standing transfixed staring at the bookcase, completely oblivious to the sound of the screaming tea kettle. I rush past her to turn off the water. When I turn back to look at her, she has gone completely white.

"How did you get your scar?" she asks slowly.

My scar? My eyes travel down to her feet where her eyes are focused and see the shattered frame. A picture of my family: of my dad. Oh no. She recognized him.

"Please, Naya. I wanted to tell you. From the moment I first realized it was you, but, I just couldn't, I didn't know how."

She isn't looking at me, just staring at the picture.

"You were in the car with him, weren't you? The car that killed my parents. That's how you got your scar?" her voice is so distant.

"Yes," I moan.

She shakes her head at me slowly. "No. Your last names aren't the same." She doesn't want to believe it.

"I had my name legally changed when I was eighteen to my mom's maiden name. I did it to piss my dad off, not to lie to you."

"But lie you did."

I pull my hands through my hair.

"Yes, I did. But that isn't even the worst of it." My knees give out and I slide down the wall next to the bookcase. I cradle my head in my hands. I'm going to lose her.

"What's the worst of it?" she asks after an eternity of silence.

"I caused it. My father didn't kill them. I did."

She just starts shaking her head slowly, unable to believe it.

"I've wanted to tell you for so long now," I whimper. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

"I don't understand. How?" she sputters.

"I didn't know for sure until that first day when you said your name in acting class. But then, that was crazy, right? It couldn't be you! I mean, what would the odds be of you showing up in my class? It was impossible."

I'm talking so fast that I'm not sure she's catching it all, but I can't manage to slow down. It's pouring out of me like lava, each word more damning than the last.

"I tried to ignore you, tried to keep my distance, but then your pull on me... That damn pull. It started freaking me out. It was like you knew I was responsible for their deaths, and you were punishing me, but I couldn't figure out how you were doing it. It took some time for me to realize you were feeling this thing too. But you didn't seem to know who I was, which only made being near you so much more complicated."

She doesn't say anything, but her bottom lip quivers.

"And the guilt! The guilt was crushing me, Naya. The guilt I felt, I still feel every time I look at you, knowing what I've done to you!"

Her eyes gloss over.

"Tell me what happened," she says, not once looking up at me.

"I was thirteen. We were coming home from a camping trip and I remember it was raining really hard, like really hard. I knew my father couldn't possibly see where he was going. I'd never seen it rain like that before."

"I remember," she whispers.

I have to make her understand.

"I was scared out of my mind, I just wanted him to pull over and wait it out. He told me it was too dangerous to do that—that no one would be able to see our blinkers in the downpour. He tried to make me feel better by saying we were just a few minutes away from the exit. That's when I started to feel..." I don't know how to explain this to her.

"Feel what," she says, her eyes have finally come up off the floor. She's desperate for the truth.

"I could never describe the feeling to my parents or anyone, and have never felt it again, until the day I met you. The feeling I had that night, it was like a rope had been tied around my waist and was pulling me. I can only assume now that it was pulling me toward you."

A tear slips down her face.

"That pull was so strong that I..." here it comes. "I tried to jump out of the car."

"You what?"

"I know, I know, it was crazy. But, it was like I was under a spell or something. I just undid my seatbelt without even thinking about it. I opened the car door while we were still driving—I even had one of my legs out of the door. I should have been terrified, but somehow I was more afraid about what would happen if I didn't get out of that car and find whatever was pulling me."

She wipes the tear off her cheek.

"You were going to jump out of a moving car, in a downpour, on the highway?" she asks.

I rub the palms of my hands over my eyes, struggling to make her believe.

"To be fair, I don't really think I had a choice in the matter. Like I said, I felt... possessed. When my mom saw what I was doing, she started screaming which, of course, made my dad swerve and... well, you know the rest."

Naya

Yes, I did know the rest. Their car plowed across the grassy median and head-on into our sedan, taking my parents' life with it.

"That's the night I got my scar," he says in the wake of the silence his confession has made.

"They never told me there was a kid in the other car," I whisper, but then, who, besides the fireman who rescued me, was around to tell me anything about that night? Would I have even listened if someone had? The ghost of a girl I was that night flew across my mind. No. That girl would not have registered anything except 'your parents are dead.'

I scramble to my feet not sure what I am going to do but know I need to get out of here.

"I can't be here right now," I blurt out, grabbing his car keys and running to the door as fast as my legs will carry me. I don't feel my body as I slide the key in the ignition. I'm barely conscious as I pull out onto the highway. I don't know where I'm going, but I know there is one person who has some answers. Grams.

#  Chapter 17

Etash

What have I done? What have I done? The chant rings in my ears as she slams the door and slips away from me and I go limp.

Naya

It's almost ten when I pull into the parking lot at the mall. I'm a wreck. My eyes are swollen and red and my face is streaked with tears. Wiping my face with the back of my shirt, I walk into the mall and find the nearest pay phone.

Plunking in a handful of change, I dial information and have them connect me to Naimi's nursing home. I'm on my last few quarters before I'm finally connected to her.

"He told you, yes?" she asks, as though she knows what has just happened.

"He told me that he killed my parents by jumping out of a car!" For some reason, I seemed to be blaming her for Etash's actions.

Naimi breathed patiently into the phone. "You are right to be angry that your parents are gone. It is tragic to have them taken away from you so young."

Without meaning to, I start to weep.

"You are right to be sad," she continues as I brush a tear away. "But you are no right to blame your twin flame."

I sighed. "He doesn't believe in any of that."

She laughed. "He was always the stubborn one."

I twirled the cord on the phone as the phone demanded more money. Dropping in my last two coins, I ask her what I've been wanting to ask all along.

"Do you believe my parents were meant to die that night?"

"You wear the mark, do you not? The flame, yes," she asks.

"How did you..."

"It is the same as his, no?"

"Yes, but..."

"You are twin flames. It was not my Etash that killed your parents that day. It was fate bringing you together. Did they have to die in order for you two to meet? That only God can answer for you."

I wanted to believe her. But to do that meant that I had to also accept the existence of Twin Flames, something I wasn't sure I was ready to do.

"No matter you believe or not," her sage voice crackled over the line, reading my silence perfectly. "If you leave him, he will only find you again. If not in this life, then in the next. Like it or no, you two are bound together for all eternity."

As she spoke the words, my heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, I knew she was right. We would be together, always. Fate had kept pulling us back, time and time again.

"Go to him," she whispered. "He is waiting."

Without even saying goodbye, I hung up and flew out of the mall, desperate to get back home.

Etash

All I can think about is Naya. And Seth. Had I inadvertently done the unthinkable and sent her back into the arms of her abuser? Was I the bigger monster? Deep down, I knew I was. I shouldn't have lied to her. I should have told her the minute I realized who she was, but then, I just would have lost her sooner. Is it really better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all? Is the pain I'm feeling better than living in ignorance that she even existed?

Images of Naya knocking on Seth's door plagued me. Made me literally sick to my stomach.

Unable to stop myself, I opened my computer and found his page on Facebook to see if he'd made any telling posts. There was nothing but his smiling face next to Naya's. He hadn't even bothered to change his profile picture. His status still said they were together. He had no plans of letting her go. Clicking onto his info page, I found he'd listed his cell phone. Before I could stop myself, my fingers started dialing the numbers. I held my breath as I waited for him to pick up. Nothing. After a dozen rings and no voice mail, I hung up. Please, Naya, please don't go back to him.

That's when I sank into my couch and began to cry. I was lost. Helpless without her beside me. What was I going to do now? The unanswered questions swimming in my heart only made me sob harder.

Naya

When I open the door to his apartment I am breathless and hungry to see him. As our eyes finally meet, I can see he's been crying.

Quickly, he stands up from the couch and opens his mouth to speak. I hold a finger up to stop him.

"It wasn't your fault. I don't blame you."

His eyes well up in relief.

"But..."

"It wasn't your fault," I repeat, closing the gap between us. With each step, I'm pulled harder toward him.

"We are meant to be together. Forever."

Before he can say another word, my lips are on his and our fates are sealed.

Passion rages inside of me as I taste his lips. My body begs to be released in this kiss, in this moment. Hungry hands greedily find their way to the nape of his neck and I pull him closer. His chest presses firmly against mine as my fingers willingly bury themselves in his thick brown locks and I sigh in relief.

Etash wraps his arms firmly around my waist and closes what little gap there had been between our hips. His touch burns my skin and I want more of him; need more. His hands slowly but fiercely run up my back, sending hot shivers down my spine.

"Please," I whisper.

Immediately understanding what I want, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me into the bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot.

#  Chapter 18

Etash

Never in my life have I felt so loved, so cherished, as I do right now with her in my arms.

"Marry me," I whisper in her hair. She laughs quietly against my arm.

"That's kind of a moot point now, isn't it?" Lifting her head up, she kisses me softly on the lips. I want desperately to take her again, but I resist. I need an answer first.

"I'm serious," I say, pulling her eyes to mine. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. "Naya, I want you to marry me. I know we've only known each other for a month, but the way I feel when I'm with you...We belong together. I'm more sure of us than I've ever been about anything."

She doesn't speak, she just starts to trace her fingers across my chest.

"I realize I haven't said this yet, but I love you, and I want you to be my wife."

She lifts her head up and props her head on her hand.

"Why haven't you?" she asks, "Said that you love me?"

It's such a painfully honest question that I struggle with giving her my answer.

"I guess cause it's a cliché? People use it so often that it kind of lost its meaning."

She gives me a sad smile.

"I disagree. I don't think people say it enough."

She is absolutely right. Far too few people have told her that she is loved.

"I love you, Naya. I love you," I chant, over and over again, pausing to kiss a part of her body after each time. Her nose, her chin, the top of her lush breasts, and finally, her perfect lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she says in my ear. "And yes, I'll marry you." Pulling her on top of me, I roll her over and ravish my fiancée, showing her my sincere appreciation.

The rest of the day, Naya and I spend cuddled together in bed, either reading, watching the news, or just being; and it is nothing short of heaven.

At four o'clock, we both begrudgingly start to get ready to go to the theatre to prepare for Opening Night.

When we walk into the makeup room a few hours later, it is all abuzz with excitement. The cast is giving each other flowers or hand-made 'break a leg' cards.

Naya gets swept up in a gaggle of girls as they go into the changing rooms to get dressed. As I set my bag down at my usual make-up chair, I see a nice tall cup of tea with my name written across the side. I check the label on the tea bag; it's chai. Thank you, Elizabeth. I grab the cup, which is still warm and take a nice long sip. Perfection. How Naya can prefer coffee to this, I'll never know.

I duck into the men's changing area and get my sweats on to warm up. When I come out I still hear the girls giggling in the changing rooms, so I go to the door and knock and instantly the chatter stops.

"Naya, I'm going upstairs to stretch."

"Okay," she says, "I'll be up soon." The hushed voices start up again.

Taking another long sip of my tea, I head up the stairs to the studios. There are a few other actors stretching out

as well in the first studio but I brush past them and head to the smallest studio. It's harder to get to since it's around the corner and up a small flight of stairs.

Of course, it's empty. No one will bother me here. Except for Naya and Kari, people still keep their distance from me, which suits me just fine.

As I start my warm-ups, I notice how stiff my body feels. You worked yourself a little too hard earlier, I think, smiling. Stretching, I notice it's more than just my stiff muscles, the tips of my fingertips are cold too. Fall is definitely here.

I down the rest of my tea in one shot hoping that will warm my body up a bit. I lift my leg onto the balance bar and bend over to touch my toes, and am surprised that this basic, routine movement causes me to almost fall on my ass. I must be stiffer than I thought. Playing it safe, I decide to start with some floor stretches instead.

After a bit, I can hear the other actors leaving, going downstairs to get into make-up. I know I should go down too, but I'm not nearly warmed up enough. When I try to push myself up to stand, I can't. My limbs suddenly feel very heavy. That's when I hear a voice chuckling from behind me.

"Did you enjoy your tea?" Seth asks coldly, walking into the studio.

My tea?

"You..." I start to speak, but can't finish my thought.

"I did warn you that I was watching you," he says in a sweet, sickening voice. "Noticing small things, like the type of tea you drink. Even your habits, like coming here, to this place, far away from everyone else, for instance." I can make out what he's saying, but only barely. I'm starting to lose consciousness.

"Stay...away... from... her."

"Or what? You're gonna stop me?" He starts laughing, a wild reckless laugh, then kneels down to look me in the eye and scratches his chin.

"No, I don't think I will stay away from her. Sorry." He stands up and checks the door, to make sure no one is coming. "As for you, we can't have you just lying around here where someone might stumble in on you. That would definitely put a kink in my plans. But, fortunately for you, I know of a nice little janitor's closet I can lock you in where no one will find you for quite a long time."

I use all of my strength to try and move from where I sit, but nothing happens. The last thing I register is his fist coming fast at my face before everything goes black.

Naya

Kari laughs at how ridiculous I look as she helps me into my light pink leotard. I start to laugh along with her when my smile fades. My blood has just gone cold.

Something is wrong. I don't know what, or how I know it, but my stomach just hit the floor, and all I can think about is Etash. I rush out of the dressing room, frantically scanning the makeup stations for him. He's not at any of them.

"Does anyone know where Etash is?" I ask loudly.

"I think he's still upstairs warming up," Thomas says. "Are you okay?"

"I will be once I find him," I say, heading upstairs.

When I reach the top, all the studios are dark, even the one he likes to hide in. Where is he?

"If you want to see him again, you'll come with me." A voice says from the shadow of Etash's studio. Seth.

"Where is he?" I ask firmly.

He comes out of the corner holding his finger to his lips.

"Shh, you don't want to ruin the surprise." He saunters over to me and pulls me into his arms and I stiffen. "Mmm. I've missed this," he says into my hair. I try to squirm out of his arms, but he just squeezes me harder.

"Now, you're going to come with me, without making a fuss." I look up at him, horror-stricken. "Unless you don't want to see him again." He steps away from me, then holds out his hand. He has Etash. I have no choice; I have to go with him.

"There's a good girl." Satisfied, he pulls me out of the theatre, and into his car waiting just outside.

My body is trembling with fear and from the cold as Seth throws his coat over me, but I push it back at him.

"Fine. Freeze to death," he snickers.

"Where are you taking me?" I hiss, once he's started down the highway. He doesn't look at me, just keeps staring straight ahead, but his nostrils flare.

"Home." Home? What is he talking about? It's only when we turn onto the highway that I know where he's taking me. We're going to his folks, just like he wanted.

When he pulls into their drive, I'm relieved. His parents will be able to talk some sense into him. But when we pull into the garage, it's empty. They're not here.

"My parents are in Florida for two weeks, in case you're wondering." He stops the car and kills the engine. "Get out."

He grabs my arm and leads me into the house, opens the door and tells me to sit on the couch. He disappears into the attached kitchen where he can easily keep a watchful eye on me. I scan the room quickly looking for any evidence of Etash before Seth comes back in with a butcher knife and a roll of duck tape. Seeing the knife, my heart starts to race.

He rips off a large strip of the tape with the knife then orders me to hold out my hands, and proceeds to bind them together.

"Get up." He pulls me off the couch and drags me over to the stairwell, rips off another length of tape and anchors me to the banister.

"Now stay," he smiles. Although I can't see him, I can hear the all-too-familiar sound of his belt coming off. I'm going to be punished, hard.

The first slash comes before I'm ready for it, and the pain drops me to my knees. I scream out in agony, and he laughs.

"Scream all you want. No one will hear you out here." And I know he's right. The closest thing to his house is the hospital and that's, at least, a mile away. I try to steel myself into silence because I know he's getting off on my pain. I bite down on my lip as the belt comes down again, and this time, I don't scream.

"Playing hard to get are you? Well, let's see how you like this." The next lash brings a new kind of pain. He has flipped the belt and is now using the belt buckle end down, and the pain of the hard, cold metal against my back unleashes a primitive wail of agony from my lips.

"That's more like it," he chuckles.

Before I can catch my breath, he hits me again and I feel my costume start to rip apart, along with some skin. He strikes again. Warm blood starts to trickle down my back and I wonder frantically if he can do this to me, someone he claims to love, what has he done to Etash.

"Where is he," I manage to wail in between beatings.

Another lash, harder this time. More skin peels off.

"Not here," he says.

He throws the belt down at my feet, then goes upstairs, satisfied for the moment. My body hangs limp off the banister. I don't have the strength even to try to pull myself free of the tape.

When he comes down the stairs again he's carrying two duffel bags and a bottle of vodka. He throws the bags by the door then rummages around in one of them producing a bottle of pills. Even though I can't read the label, I know that it's my missing prescription bottle.

He tips my head back and pours the contents of the bottle of pills into my mouth. How many were there? I try to shove them out with my tongue but he grabs my jaw and holds it open. With his other hand he grabs the vodka, and with his teeth unscrews the cap.

"Drink," he orders, then tips the liquid down my throat. Choking and gagging, I feel some of the pills slip down my throat. He only stops drowning me with the vodka when he's seen I've taken them.

"Now, we wait," he says, putting his feet up.

"Wait for what?" I cough.

"For you to lose consciousness," he smiles. "Can't have you knowing where we're going, now can I?"

"What are you talking about?" If I was scared before, I'm absolutely petrified now.

Something in his face shifts. He gets up from the couch and cradles my tear-streaked face. "Naya," he whispers, "do you not have any idea how much I love you? How far I will go to protect you from him?" He kisses the top of my head, and I can do nothing to stop him. "I know he's got you brainwashed into thinking you love him. But I know you better than anyone else in the world. I know what you need. And what you need right now is time alone with me."

He has lost his mind.

"You're kidnapping me!"

His eyes turn hard. "I'm protecting you. And our love." He pulls me to him and kisses me. I try to resist, but he's so strong, and I am so weak. My body is shutting down; giving up. He pulls away and is purring with delight at the lack of fight in me.

"Guess this cocktail works faster than the first one. Need to make a note of that."

I struggle to get out two words: "What cocktail?"

Giving me a knowing smile he says, "Normally, I only give you one of your magic pills. It takes you about an hour before you black out and we can have some fun."

Asshole.

"But this time," he continues, "I gave you a double dose and added some of my mom's opiates, just for good measure. And look, it's working already!" He's beaming at his discovery, but I'm terrified. Terrified by what he's going to do to me once I've blacked out. Terrified of where he's taking me. But mostly terrified that I'll never see Etash again.

Etash

When I wake up, it's dark and my face is killing me. I can feel that my mouth, wrists, and ankles have been bound together with duct tape and I curse.

"Naya!" I mumble through the tape. No one will ever hear me. Seeing a small crack of light, I inch my way toward the door, knocking down a mop as I squirm. With my bound feet, I start pounding against the door, hoping against hope, that someone will find me.

#  Chapter 19

Etash

With each second that ticks by I grow more and more desperate. In the darkness, I search for anything I can use to cut this damn tape off. There's nothing on the floor, but maybe on a shelf. I push against the door and worm my body upright. Feeling along the wall with my hands bound behind my back I find a light switch. For a moment, I'm blinded by the overhead light. Instantly, I try the door. But it won't budge. There is something blocking it from the outside.

I need to get this tape off. Turning around, I assess my options. There's an assortment of hammers and screwdrivers, and as luck would have it, some wire cutters. Since my hands are behind my back, it takes an eternity to work the dull blades through the tape. Once I'm free I rip the tape from my face and feet.

Pushing with all my might against the door, I manage to open it a bit to see what's blocking my escape. A soda machine. He moved a soda machine in front of the janitor's closet.

Well, at least, I know what I'm up against now. It takes a few running charges, but eventually I'm able to move the door open enough to squeeze, though.

The hallway is dark, but I recognize where I am. I'm still in the theatre, in the basement.

Scrambling up the stairs I run back to the theatre, but it's deserted. How long was I in there?

Spinning around in the hall, I notice Elizabeth's light is still on. When I barge in, she's on the phone.

"Never mind, he's here." She hangs up. "Etash, where have you been? You missed the show!"

She's about to read me the riot act, but then her face takes me in. "Oh my God! What happened to you?"

I don't answer her. "Where's Naya," I pant. She looks at me, confused.

"She's not with you?"

A guttural scream escapes me and I sink to my knees.

"Call the police," I yell. "He's taken her."

"Who?"

"Naya! Her ex-boyfriend. He kidnapped her!" She hesitates for a minute until she sees the look on my face.

"Where did he take her?" she asks, picking up the phone again. There is only one place I can think of. The place he'd wanted to take her the night he showed up at my apartment. 'Home.' I push Elizabeth aside and start hammering away on her keyboard. I log back onto Facebook click on Seth's profile page. He still uses his folks' address. Got ya.

"Send them here," I say, tossing the phone at her. "He's holding her there." I can feel it. Without looking back, I run out the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Elizabeth yells after me.

"I'm going to find her!"

Shaking, I run to my car, trying desperately to steady my hands enough to turn the key. I'm coming, Naya. I'm coming.

Naya

Still heavily sedated, I open my eyes, but I can't feel a thing. Even breathing seems to be a struggle.

"You don't look so hot," Seth chuckles. He gets off the couch and looks in my eyes. "Guess it's okay to lay you down now. You're not going anywhere."

He pulls the knife out and saws away at the tape until I collapse to the floor. I thump to the ground, limp, but I don't feel anything.

"Let's get you cleaned up. Can't have you bleeding all over my parents' house." He starts removing my leotard and I'm utterly defenseless to stop him. He must pick up on my fear because he strokes my face. "Don't worry, love. I'm just going to get you changed up so we can leave."

He props me up on the coffee table then leaves again, coming back a few minutes later with dressings for my back. He takes great care cleaning my wounds, as though his mending me will somehow make up for it all.

When he's satisfied with his repair job, he gets out a Florida State sweatshirt of his and pulls it over me. He then pulls some sweat pants over my legs.

"There. You're perfect." He kisses my cheek, and my head falls backward...I'm unable to lift it back up. With my neck exposed, he starts kissing it, slowly pulling himself on top of me. He starts moaning in my ear. I beg for unconsciousness to take over.

"Get off of her!" Etash shouts from somewhere behind Seth.

Seth's lips are still against my ear but I feel them curve slowly into a smile. He pulls back and looks at me before his eyes go dead.

Summoning all the strength I have, I squeak out one word: "Run!"

Etash

The sight of her in his arms makes my stomach lurch. But the image of her, once he's climbed off her, is devastating. Her face is covered in tears and her body is limp. He's drugged her.

As Seth stands up I notice a belt on the floor, stained red with her blood; I lose it. An ancient rage consumes me and I charge him. Although I'm only half his size I'm able to knock him to the floor with the speed of my attack and I start wailing on him. Punch after punch, cursing profanities and spitting venom.

Eventually, his brute strength manages to knock me off him, his right hook just missing my nose. As I dodge his next punch, I knock over a small table lamp. It comes crashing to the floor, and it gives me an idea.

Swiftly, I jump over the shattered glass, then retrieve the base of the lamp and come at him swinging. He manages to duck down and miss my first attempt, but I clobber him with the second swing, crashing it firmly against his skull.

I watch with satisfaction as he sinks to the ground. I stand over him breathing heavily, more than ready to hit him again, but he doesn't move.

Naya whimpers softly behind me and I drop the lamp and rush to her side. Grabbing her hand, I notice her fingers are cold. Pressing my ear to her chest, I can make out a heartbeat, but it's dangerously weak.

"Naya, can you hear me?" Her eyes open a crack and when she sees me, she smiles. "What did he do to you?"

"...drugged... so weak." She is struggling to get the words out.

"Shh, it's okay, the police are on their way; just hang on." I brush some hair away from her ashen face.

"I'm... sorry," she croaks.

I take both of her hands in mine. "No, don't be sorry. I'm here. You're safe now." She shakes her head, and licks her lips, needing to say more, so I lower myself to her again.

"I'm sorry... you'll have to... find me again." For a second, I'm confused, but when I look in her eyes, I know what she means. She doesn't think she's going to make it.

"Naya. Stay strong. Help is coming. Do you hear me?" But she shakes her head weakly.

"Promise... me," she gasps. "Promise me you'll find me again." Tears streak down her face. She squeezes my hand lightly, needing an answer.

"I promise," I say, "but I won't have to look hard. You're not going anywhere. I'm going to be right beside you." She gives me a weak smile, then grimaces with pain.

"I... love... you"

"I love you too," I moan, and lean in to kiss her, hoping my touch can be healing for her again. But when my lips touch hers, I feel it. I actually feel her soul slip out of her body.

"No! Naya! Damn it, you open your eyes! You are not leaving me!"

There is a small frozen smile on her face which makes her look so peaceful that it hurts to look at her. I bend over and press my lips to hers again, unable to believe she's gone, and as I do, I feel something sharp sink into my back, hot and acidic. I turn my head enough to see Seth holding a butcher knife, which is now lodged deeply into my back.

"Burn in hell, asshole," he says.

Blood pours out of me, running down my back, dripping down my legs.

I hear sirens blaring in the distance, but I know it's too late for me. Seth hears them too. He looks down at me, scared. There is a small satisfaction that, at last, he will pay.

His eyes gloss over as he walks to a gun cabinet in the corner. Like a robot, he smashes in the glass with his fist and pulls out a rifle. He's going to finish me off, and I can't help but feel grateful. At least, then I'll be with Naya.

But he denies my request, and instead points the barrel at his own head and pulls the trigger before I can open my mouth to stop him. He crumples to the floor as pieces of his head rain down around him.

I start to close my eyes against the whooshing sound filling my head. This is it; I'm going to die, too.

A flicker of light forces my eyes open in the few seconds I have left, and I am awed. Hovering just over Naya's body is the most brilliant flame dancing over her in shades of gold and amber. It begins swirling in the air, where it gets overshadowed by a brighter, hotter light. I find myself needing to see where this other light is coming from.

But as I turn my head, I discover that I am the source of the fire. I look at my own body and find an identical set of flames rising above my own broken body.

Even in the moments before my death, I know that these are our souls, finally joined and dancing together, and the most wonderful sense of relief floods over me. A smile creeps across my face. I will find you again, Naya. I promise. Then I closed my eyes for the last time.

#  Epilogue

The gentle beeps from the monitors fill the hospital hallway with a hypnotic rhythm indicating the steady heart rate of the hospital's three newest patients.

A tall, lanky woman in her late forties approaches the nurses' station, obviously coming to gossip about the evening's events.

"Brenda! Did you hear the news?"

Of course, Brenda had heard. It was all everyone could talk about. Not wanting to deflate Marilyn's balloon, Brenda plays dumb.

"No, what happened?"

Marilyn's eyes grew bright with anticipation at being the first to tell someone the story. "Well, you remember the Weavers out on Tucker Road?"

"Sure."

"Turns out that the parents were off in Florida on a vacation, when their son, Seth, you know the one, big beefy guy, not bad on the eyes? Well, he kidnaps his girlfriend, brings her to his folks' house, drugs her causing her to OD, then this other boy, who I'm guessing must have been the girlfriend's lover, he gets stabbed in the back, like literally. One guess who did that, right? Then the cute one up and shoots himself in the head!"

Marilyn is practically panting from the amount of exertion she put into the story. "I can't believe you haven't heard this, Brenda. The entire hospital is in a tizzy about this!"

Brenda smiles politely. "I'm sorry, Marilyn, I guess I've got a lot on my mind right now. In case you didn't notice, we've had a busy night here, too."

Walking over to the door nearest her, she pushes it open with her bottom. Tormented cries instantly fill the room.

"Have you been crying all night honey?" Brenda asks, walking among the other empty bassinets to get to the infant who is wailing. "Hush now, Jada, there's no need to cry. Your mama's gonna be just fine. She'll be out of surgery soon and then your papa will come down to see you."

She hugs the small child in her arms and tries to soothe the infant who had been whisked away from her mother just moments after birth in a hurried attempt to save the young woman's life.

"Hush now," she whispers again, "you're not alone. I'm here now."

She continues to try and calm the screaming child without success.

"Hush now, or you'll wake up the whole town," she teases gently.

Just then, another RN, Julie, walks into the nursery carrying Tobias, born just a few hours ago. Tobias is screaming almost as loudly as Jada.

"It's not easy being a baby, is it?" Julie jokes. As Julie inches around Brenda to put Tobias down, both babies instantly stop crying and small, gentle coos escape the babies' lips.

"Well, I guess you just were waiting for Tobias to show up, huh?" Brenda chuckles.

Julie laughs too, but then moves away from Brenda and places Tobias in his bassinet. The moment she sets him down, the cries of misery begin erupting again from each of the babies.

"Now don't that just beat all?" Brenda exclaimed. "Let's try something."

Shifting Jada in her hands, Brenda places Jada next to Tobias in his bassinet. All at once both of the infants' cries stop.

Brenda stands over them, amazed. Her lips curve into a smile watching the two lovebirds, astonished that even though each child has its limbs swaddled snugly inside its hospital blankets, they each manage to turn their tiny bodies toward the other.

"Looks like they fancy each other," Brenda sighs.

"Looks like," Julie agrees. "But wait till she gets a look at the little one in Room 111."

Brenda nods. "True. That boy has got the most amazing blue eyes. He's going to be quite the lady-killer when he grows up."

Brenda crosses her arms and shakes her head in awe of the two infants who lie side by side, drinking each other in.

# The End

### Or is it just the beginning?

Continue the journey...Keep reading for a look at book two
Wait! Before you go...can I ask a favor? If you liked this book can you leave a quick review? Even a simple sentence like 'I enjoyed this book' helps the books visibility. Like it or not, people judge a book by how many reviews it has, so one of the best ways to help an indie is to leave a review. Thank you!

# OTHER WORKS BY

# DANIELLE BANNISTER

### Available Now

The Twin Flames Trilogy:

Pulled, Pulled Back, and Pulled Back Again

Enigma

Netherworld

The ABC's of Dee

Short Shorts

Doppelganger

### Coming Soon

Must Love Coffee

The Lurker Within: A Havenwood Falls Novella

Hollow Earth: The Hallowed Realms Book 2

BIO

D anielle Bannister lives with my two children in Midcoast Maine where I try my best to avoid the sun and all the nature trying to devour me. I've written several novels that explore love and loss in unique ways. When I'm not writing I can be found in front of my kindle or binge watching Netflix while sipping my coffee with copious amounts of peppermint mocha creamer.

#  Sneak peek of Book Two

PULLED BACK: A Flame Reborn

Friday, October 2011

Brenda's body ached. She'd been scrambling around the nursery wing for the last twelve hours. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open.

In the early morning light at Webster General Hospital, the steady rhythm of three newborn heart monitors filled the quiet halls.

Brenda found herself struggling with the injustices of life. While she had been busy helping the docs with three different mothers who all decided to go into labor at once, on the floor below her, three of the local college kids were dying. From what Brenda heard, it had been brutal. A jealous boyfriend killed his girlfriend and her lover and then killed himself. Brenda didn't know all the details but heard one of the friend's of the deceased talking to a reporter about the tragedy. Three children were taken from this world while three more were getting the chance to start fresh. It was all part of the irony of life.

As she gazed at two of her new charges, she felt ready to drift off to sleep right along with them. That's when she heard her name being shouted from down the hall.

"Brenda!"

Even without looking up, she knew to whom the glottal-fried voice belonged to Marilyn. Marilyn was a scrawny, white woman who had teeth too big for her mouth and a nose ready to stick into any place it didn't belong.

"You off?" Marilyn asked, leaning against the counter as Brenda pulled on her sweater.

"Yup. Been a wild night with these two," Brenda replied, gesturing toward the glass wall behind her that held Jada and Tobias: her two lovebirds.

Marilyn craned her neck to look at the infants.

"I thought you had three of them. What did you do? Lose one?"

Brenda frowned. Hawk (of all things to name a child) had yet to join Jada and Tobias in the nursery. That suited Brenda just fine. There was something she just couldn't put her finger on behind that boy's pale blue eyes. They made her shiver whenever she caught a glimpse of them.

Ignoring Marilyn, Brenda focused her gaze on baby Jada and said a silent prayer for her mama who was upstairs in the O.R. after hemorrhaging during the delivery. Although the odds were grim, Brenda still prayed her hardest. A girl needs her mama. Without one, a woman grows up not feeling whole.

It gave Brenda great comfort to know that, for now, baby Jada had little Tobias to keep her company. Her heart swelled when she looked at the two of them. They were both swaddled and snug in their blankets, their tiny faces pressed close to the thin layer of plastic that kept them apart. Oh, how Brenda wanted to remove that single barrier and allow them to snuggle up to each other as they so clearly wanted to do, but she couldn't. There were policies that forced her hands into submission.

At least, those two weren't crying anymore. Brenda only wished she had figured out why they had been so upset sooner. She might not have suffered from a headache she got as a result of their unhappiness.

After all, who would have ever guessed what would have stopped their cries? The very idea was ridiculous.

When Brenda had first placed them in the nursery, she thought she'd give the two of them a little distance, thinking they might wake each other up. So, she put Tobias on one end of the nursery and Jada on the other. That had been a big mistake. There was an all out riot by those infants with screams of agony so powerful and inconsolable that it had actually scared Brenda. Nothing in her 20-year arsenal of pediatric nursing seemed to calm those babies down until, quite by accident, another nurse came in to help. She had merely picked up Tobias and walked over to Brenda, who was trying her best to hush Jada when both babies suddenly stopped crying and started cooing.

She still couldn't believe it. What those two babies wanted, even more than the milk in their bottles was each other. They just wanted to be close to one another. It was, by far, the strangest thing, she had ever witnessed.

Brenda worried what the parents might think when they would have to be separated the next day. They'd probably claim those babies were just colicky when really they would just be longing for the other.

Brenda chuckled to herself. She'd been reading too many romance novels.

Reluctantly, she turned her attention back to Marilyn whose eyes were pinched closed in disgust as she peered into the nursery.

"Not much to that runt, is there?"

"Tobias," Brenda corrected firmly. "And he ain't no runt. He's perfect just the way God made him."

Marilyn scoffed. "I give that boy a year."

Heat bubbled inside of Brenda, filling her cheeks. A protective rage she didn't realize she even possessed washed over her. Her fists clenched as she tried to contain herself.

"No one wants the runt of a litter," Marilyn continued, oblivious to Brenda's fuming. "That's probably why his folks are putting him up for adoption."

All the fire drained out of Brenda and was replaced with shock. "What?"

Marilyn shrugged her shoulders without compassion. "I heard the dad talking on the phone to someone about it."

So, that's why no one had been knocking down the nursery door to see Tobias. They didn't plan on getting attached. Tears crept into the corners of her eyes.

"Things aren't looking good for that girl's mama, either." Marilyn pointed her cotton candy pink nail toward Jada. "I just had to bring a crash cart into her room. The dad's an absolute mess."

It's times like this that Brenda hated her job. She knew better than to get attached to those who come here, and yet, she found herself doing it every day, more so today than ever before. Angry at the injustice of it all, Brenda turned away from Marilyn and pushed her way into the nursery. The click of the door closing behind her echoed into the hollows of her heart.

Tears blurred Brenda's vision, but she found her way over to Tobias and Jada, gently pressing a hand on each of their precious little bodies. They were still cooing at each other, blissfully unaware of how much their happy little lives would change.

