Oh yeah? Cassie said. Do you know where she’s been hiding?

My face would give me away; I looked at the padded walls. The cushions were covered with a thousand footprints.

She’s not gonna narc, Cas. Leave her alone. Remember China? That girl you met in the hospital? Sara helped her roll a john.

Cassie shrugged her shoulders as if to say, Big deal.

Amber ran to the door with a ripped page from Seventeen. The page covered the glass pane on the Red Room door. Stay Free, the Tampax ad said, and the girl on the bicycle was dressed entirely in white.

Under the red lights, I waited to feel calm, but I didn’t feel any different.

Amber did it first. She showed me her scars. They started on her wrists and ended on her shoulders. Some of the scars were redder than the light of the room. The older ones were faded, raised lines like slivers of ivory. She took off her bra. There, above the nipple on her small breast, was a star with five points. It was so perfect and red, it might have been engraved in wood; it seemed impossible that the star was actually carved into her skin.

Who did that to you? I was going to ask, but I thought of Heather. Washing the dirt off her white pumps. They wanted to do it so I let them.

I looked away, but there was nowhere to look.

Cassie reached down into her underwear. Something glimmered in the dark V of hair. I looked away, but there was nowhere to look.

The glimmer was a razor blade.

Holding the small razor as if it was silk, Cassie carefully dragged the blade against the inside of her thigh. Blood trickled down. She smeared it across her knee. She didn’t shout. She didn’t scream. She just smiled as if she’d been lovingly touched by the kindest man. Could I do it?

Yeah, I could. I had violent tendencies.

Give me that razor blade, I wanted to say, but the words didn’t come.

Give me that razor blade, Amber said. Cassie passed the blade to her. The blade was pressed between her thumb and forefinger. It might as well have been a joint.

Amber stroked the inside of her thigh, moving her hand closer to her underwear. She didn’t take a big breath. She didn’t close her eyes or anything. She just slashed. Amber slashed, slashing the blade in a long, straight line from the fullest part of her thigh straight to the white cloth of her underwear.

Oh God, she said, and her eyes closed. She let out a soft sigh.

Then I asked what I didn’t want to ask. Why?

It feels really good. It feels like sex, Amber said.

It’s better than sex, Cassie said. It’s better than sex with gross, fat men.

I thought you had violent tendencies, Amber said.