She shook her head, “Perks of being a cheerleader!” She giggled and helped me out the car. I was unaware that cheerleaders even got perks.

The room was nice, very big. Most importantly, it was clean. Spencer led me into the bathroom. “Take your clothes off.” I felt myself blush as I started to undress, this time not bothering to tell Spencer to turn around. I was sitting on the toilet, flinching each time Spencer touched one of my bruises. The look on her face told me I looked bad. I avoided looking in the mirror. I tried my best to avoid looking at her, but that was more than a little difficult. She was so close to me, leaning over me, her breath on my skin as she washed blood from my face.

“I’m sorry about my father.” I didn’t expect her to apologize. He was protecting her.

I just shrugged, “It’s okay.”

“Your face is going to be swollen tomorrow.” I didn’t say anything. Spencer moved her hand, she was letting her fingers roam over my exposed skin. I was getting goose bumps. Her touch was so gentle. For as long as I could remember, no one had ever been this gentle with me. I let myself enjoy her touch. I was enjoying the moment, but it was soon ruined, ruined when I realized what she was doing.

She was tracing her fingers over my scars. There were so many. I stood up, pushing her away. I went into the bedroom and climbed into the bed. I knew we’d be sharing it since there was no couch in the room. I felt her climb into bed next to me, this time her arms wrapping around me pulling me closer. She whispered against my ear. “You’re beautiful, even with the scars.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I blinked away the tears. This girl was under my skin. I don’t know how it happened, and I definitely didn’t know what love felt like, but these butterflies in my tummy seemed pretty close to that feeling.

I was drifting off to sleep, my eyes heavy. I was about to fall asleep when she spoke again. “Why wouldn’t you let me stay at home?” I knew this moment would come. I didn’t know how I was going to tell her, I definitely didn’t want to, but she had the right to know.

“Spencer…”

“Yes?”

“You know before, when you caught me on the phone?”

“Yes…”

“I was speaking to Aiden, the guy from earlier, in the car.”

“Yes.”

“Spencer…I was trying to find out who hired me to kill you.”

“Yes…” I could feel the fear in her voice, as if she had an idea of what I was going to say

“Spencer,” this was going to be hard.

“Yes?”

“It was your mother.”

There were no more words, only the feeling of her nails digging deep into my skin.