Prologue

PROLOGUE

Pulling into the driveway of the Solar house, Blake Robinson got out of his truck and slammed the door shut. He made his way up to the front door. "Nate?" Blake called as he reached the entrance and found the door unlocked. He went in and hurried up the stairs to his best friend’s room. There wasn’t any sign of him. The house was quiet, and Blake wasn’t certain if anyone was even home. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair; his dark eyes shown with confusion. As he passed by the bathroom on his way back downstairs, he noticed a slight glow coming from the crack between the closed door and the flooring. The light was on. Curious, he knocked.

"Nate?" Blake called again, his fist lingering on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again. "Nathan, you in there?" When nobody answered, he tried the knob. It was locked. Worried, he jiggled the doorknob, hoping it would give and open for him. It did not. "Is anybody in there?" he asked again. That’s when he heard something clatter loudly to the linoleum floor. Desperate, he yelled again, uneasiness creeping into his voice. "Mr. Solar? Natalie? Nat? Is that you?"

A groan greeted his question, and Blake went for the knob again, begging it to turn. It still refused to give in. Grunting in frustration, he dug in the back pocket of his jeans and unearthed his wallet. He pulled out the first card he came to—his driver's license—and slid it into the crack between the door and its frame. Working the plastic, it wasn’t long before he heard the lock click back. He shoved the card back into his pocket and pushed the door open to reveal a sight he'd never in a million years dream he'd ever see. Natalie lay collapsed on the bathroom floor, her arms stained with blood. A razor lay next to her.

"Nat!" Blake rushed to her side. He knelt beside her and shook her unconscious form gently to wake her up. "Nat! Natalie," he said, the backs of his fingers passing across the flawlessness of her pale face. A moment later, her eyes fluttered open. She looked relieved at first, but then realization struck her and her gaze turned fearful. She sat up quickly, trying to move back away from him without standing up. It was only the weakness in her arms that forced her to stop. The pain bordered on unbearable. "Here," he said. He helped her to move back so that she could rest against the wall.

Without another word, Blake got to his feet. He took a wash cloth from the cabinet behind him and ran it under warm water in the sink, soaking it through. After wringing it out, he returned to her, crouching down with one knee resting on the floor. He took her right arm in his lap and turned it wrist-up, where most of the blood was. Gently, he began wiping it off, revealing little cuts one by one all in a row down her arm and running horizontally to her wrist.

"How did you do this?" Blake asked, not so sure now that it was an accident. Pausing in his work, he looked up into her face and met her murky green eyes. The gold-rimmed irises were filled with pain and anguish and quickly averted their gaze to the floor a few inches from his knee. His line of vision followed hers and came to a stop on the razor. He reached for it, turning it over in his hands so he could read the label. It was an Exacto knife, the kind used for odd jobs around the house. He wiped the blood off the blade and saw it already coloring with age. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No," Natalie said almost instantly. It was the first word she’d spoken to him since he’d found her. Blake looked up at her, the alarm apparent on his face. Natalie cursed inwardly. How could she have been so stupid as to let someone find her like this, especially Blake, of all people?

"Why not?" Blake asked. He tossed the razor in the sink and returned his attention to her other arm. Nat didn’t answer, and he finished wiping her clean of her own blood. He noticed that she had also slit her palms. "You need to change your clothes," he said when he’d finished. Her old plain white t-shirt was almost completely soaked through on the front with blood. He stood and offered his hand to her. Natalie gazed up at him towering over her before taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. Her face contorted with pain at the contact, and she swayed a little with dizziness from the sudden action. Gaining her balance, she immediately grabbed the knife from the sink and headed to her room across the hall. Blake followed her, grabbing a towel on his way out.

"I don't know why you're here, Blake, but I can take care of this on my own. I'm a big girl, you know," Natalie said, more than a hint of icy sarcasm in her tone. She was taking her anger at herself out on him. She felt horrible about it, but she wasn’t going to take it back now. She slid the razor back in place in the last drawer of her jewelry box and shut the compartment. Then, not caring about his presence in the least, Nat turned her back on Blake and shifted so she could pull her shirt off. Her cuts opened up again at the movement and blood ran in thin trails down her arms. She dropped the bottom of her shirt and took the towel Blake held out for her. She pressed it against her left arm, trying to stem the blood flow.

"I was looking for Nate. Why don't you want to go to the hospital?" Blake asked her. He was so close behind her that she could feel the heat from his body on her back. She moved a step away from him, the fronts of her legs hitting the side of her bed.

"Because I would have to explain this," Natalie answered. She tossed the towel on the bed and held up her arms in display. Blake counted at least ten cuts on each arm. "And I really don't have the time to be talking to a shrink every day of the week." He didn’t reply, just sighed in agreement, or annoyance. She didn’t know which one. "Nate's at the library," she muttered. She rounded back on him suddenly, her piercing green gaze meeting his eyes. "I don’t understand why you’re still here. I told you to leave."

"I want to help you. You can't afford to be left alone right now. Something could happen." Blake’s brown eyes questioned her. There was something vital she wasn’t saying.

Natalie snorted in laughter, clearly amused at his candor. "Like what?"

Blake shrugged. "I don't know. At least let me stay until your dad gets home." What looked like fear crept into Natalie's eyes suddenly. It vanished in less than a second, and he wasn’t completely sure if it really happened or if he had imagined it.

"Alright. You can stay," Natalie said, giving in. She turned back around without another word, her back to him again and her knees against the bed, and moved to take her shirt off. Blake’s hands on her arms stopped her. She could feel his chest against her back, and his touch was gentle, careful where it fell. He didn’t want to hurt her. She forced herself not to tense up. This was her brother’s best friend. Sure, he was her friend as well, but they hadn’t really been close since they were kids. It wasn’t long after her mom died that they began drifting apart.

"Let me help," Blake said softly, and immediately felt Natalie relax against him. It was something about his voice, the reassurance and tenderness in it. It brought her back to that time long ago when she had no care in the world; when she was young, innocent, and naïve.

Without really knowing why, Nat submitted to Blake’s actions, feeling completely comfortable with him as he worked with her to pull off her blood-soaked shirt. This left her in a short white tank top, her shorts low enough that new bruises were easily visible on her hips and lower back. He didn’t think anything of it. It was when he also took off the tank top, leaving her upper body clad in only a bra, that he realized something was definitely wrong.

"Oh, God," Blake muttered to himself. His fingers traced Natalie’s skin, and she felt her body warm in response to his touch. Two swollen scratches ran vertically down the length of her back. He lightly touched the wound and felt her flinch at the contact. He moved her hair over her left shoulder, the back of his hand stroking the bruising skin of her right one. It looked like somebody had grabbed her there and maybe thrown her against a wall or a door.

Moving around her, his hand ran down the outside of her arm and then down her side where her skin was taking on a greenish tinge. He moved from one hip, across her stomach, to her other hip and up her other side. What looked like an older bruise had formed on her left rib cage. After lightly skimming that, his fingers made their way up her arm, pushed her hair back, and moved across her shoulder to lift her chin. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and he took her face in his hands, wiping them away tenderly. The action was reflexive. "Who did this to you?" he asked.

Natalie looked up into Blake’s warm gaze. She wanted to cry even more with the compassion and anguish she saw there. His features displayed his concern for her. It made her feel safe; he made her feel safe without even trying. "Please don't leave when Dad gets home," she whispered, shaking her head. "Please don't." She broke, burying her face in his chest and allowing herself to sob openly. It had been a long time since she’d cried, close to six years. Not long after turning ten, she’d realized that the more she cried, the more she got beaten, so she’d stopped crying altogether.

Blake wrapped his arms around Nat, holding her as her body shook. He smoothed her dark hair away from her face and rocked her gently back and forth. The more she pressed herself against him, the tighter his hold on her became.

Finally, Natalie gained back her control and ceased crying. Blake kept rocking her even after she had stopped, whispering soothing things in her ear. After a minute or so, she pulled away and wiped her eyes with her fingers. Her tears had saturated his shirt. She laughed sadly, casting her eyes away from him in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Natalie whispered.

"Hey," Blake said in a soft voice. He turned her face toward him with his hand. "It's okay." He searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and kissing her forehead. "I'll be right back." She nodded silently as he moved away from her, closing her door and heading back into the bathroom across the hall. Once inside, he took his shirt off, and then searched the medicine cabinet above the sink for something she could wrap around her hands. He found some gauze and two long strips of cloth. He took both materials and headed back into her room. Shutting the door behind him, he locked it and tossed his shirt on the nearby dresser. "Here." He beckoned to her, settling down on the bed. She was in another t-shirt and different shorts. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Her eyes were dry, her face still a little red from crying. She hesitated, unsure of herself and what he wanted. He beckoned to her again, and she moved close enough so that he could pull her down into his lap. With her back against his chest, he bandaged her hands, tying the cloth together on the outside.

Natalie turned in his arms after he finished. She laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and felt his hold on her tighten ever so slightly. Her forehead rested against his neck; his heartbeat pounded in her ear. She was becoming more and more comfortable with him. She found him amazingly easy to trust, both with her and her secrets.

"How come I never knew about this?" Blake asked. He stared at the door across the room, unmoving and wondering.

"Because I never told you?" It came out as more of a question than a statement.

"But, I can't believe Nate never mentioned anything."

"Nate doesn't know," Natalie said a little more harshly than she originally intended. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, apologizing for the outburst with her gaze. He nodded in understanding, and she continued. "He only hits me and never when anybody else, especially Nate, is around."

"Why haven't you ever told him?" Blake asked her.

"He threatened me. He told me he’d kill me if I ever told anyone, and he never breaks his promises." Natalie paused and looked away. "It's also why I don't fight back. He abuses me, calls me names. Afterward, he usually heads over to his favorite bar and gets completely wasted. It gives me time to do this." She traced a cut on her left arm lightly with a finger.

Blake laid a hand over hers, stopping her actions. She looked back up at him. "How long has this been going on?"

"Ever since Mom died," Natalie said, hiding the pain of the memory.

Eleven years. This whole thing had been going on for eleven years, and Blake had never known, never even guessed it. Natalie and Nathan had lost their mother when they were six. When did he start beating her? A week after? A month? A year? How could he, a good friend of hers, not have seen it? How could Nathan not see it? He lived with them for Christ's sake. How was this possible? He searched Natalie's murky green eyes. She was stronger emotionally and physically than she ever let on, than even he was. He did not understand how she could do it—live with this abuse day after day and not tell anyone. His expression must have shown his train of thought because he felt her tense up suddenly, her eyes growing fearful. She made an attempt to move away from him, but he pulled her back.

"Don't tell," Natalie whispered to him. "Please."

Blake gently cupped the back of her head with both hands and touched their foreheads together. "I won't. I promise. Not yet." She relaxed against him again, sighing in relief. Her eyes studied his face, and she watched his gaze drop to her mouth for a moment before moving back up to connect with her own.

Even as her eyes shut automatically and his lips met hers, Natalie knew it was wrong. It was so wrong. This was her brother’s best friend. It went against everything Nate and Natalie believed when it came to the two of them. She didn’t want Nate with any of her friends, so why should Nate allow her any of his? Natalie knew Nate wouldn’t like it when he found out, if he found out. But, she just didn’t understand how something so wrong could feel so horribly right.

Actually, this wouldn’t be the first time they’d kissed. The first time had been when they were six. It was a couple months after Natalie’s mom died, and Blake had found her crying on her front steps. Even at six, he had known how to comfort her. He had been the one to initiate the kiss that time too. Afterwards, they had smiled shyly at each other, and he had put his arm around her.

Since that night though, they had drifted farther and farther apart. It was mostly because Natalie was pushing him away. She knew that. She hadn’t wanted him or anyone else to know the truth.

Natalie forced the memory from her thoughts and focused on Blake. His kiss was short but soft and slow with a technique she knew he had taken careful time to perfect. His mouth still lingered on hers even after he broke it off. All doubt had been erased from her mind. It felt right to her, and that was all that mattered. Smiling, she reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and resumed lip-lock with him. His hands fell away from her almost instantly, moving to caress the small of her back instead.

Natalie pulled away from him a couple minutes later. Their foreheads stayed touching, and a smile continued to show on her face. "Thank you," she whispered. He responded with a grin of his own and brought her mouth back to his in another kiss.

Not a minute passed before they both heard the front door open and slam shut. Loud uneven footsteps thundered across the living room floor and pounded up the stairs. They passed by Natalie's bedroom and into the room at the other end of the hall, the door banging shut behind them.

Natalie pulled away fully this time, her smile fading and her eyes growing dim. She glanced over at her door. "It's him," she said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

Blake kissed the side of her head. He knew. "You okay?"

Natalie nodded in answer. "Yeah." She looked back at him, her eyes tired and pain-filled. She sighed and leaned into him. "Can you just hold me?" Laying her head back on his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him, giving her the answer.