But as I sat up in bed, sighing contentedly at the sunny day outside my window, my satisfaction was shaken. I’d felt this perfect sense of fulfillment before, after that Halloween party almost three years ago. But I’d thrown it all away. I’d decided it wasn’t worth taking risks for.

Was it any different now? The only reason I’d agreed to do this was to get my car fixed, or at least, that had been the most readily available excuse. And that was what I needed, an excuse, something I could point to and blame. Something I could hold up in front of nay-sayers and say, See? There’s not really anything wrong with me! It was only because…

I shoved back the blankets and got up. I wasn’t going to ruin a perfectly fine day with an existential crisis over a good fuck. I was heading for the bathroom when I noticed the creepy lipstick message had been cleaned off my mirror, a sticky note left in its place.

I’ll buy you a new lipstick.

Manson’s handwriting was sharp and precise, but this note was written much smaller, messier. It had to be Lucas.

I folded the note and set it down beside the aforementioned tube of lipstick. I’d seen a side to Lucas last night I hadn’t known existed, a side of him that crept out after the viciousness had dissipated. He’d looked so out of place, nervous and uncertain. As if being in a normal suburban home was too much.

Maybe it was. No one had ever known much about Lucas’s home life except vague bits and pieces. He’d moved to Wickeston with his dad — a hulk of a man with the same permanent scowl as his son — after his parents separated. They’d lived in the trailer park on the west side of town, keeping to themselves until they had an explosive public brawl at a local diner.

I don’t think Lucas lived with his father after that, but I wasn’t sure. I could only imagine that once you got to the point of fighting your own dad, things probably weren’t going well at home.

I hopped in the shower, taking my time to wash my hair, exfoliate, and shave. When I got out and wiped away the steam from the mirror, I couldn’t help staring at the marks all over my body. Brushing my fingers across my neck, I pressed my skin here and there to feel the subtle pain of the bruises they’d given me.

I liked how they looked, how they felt dirty and beautiful at the same time.