Aspen
I’ve never been afraid of Cam before. I think I know, deep down, that I can trust him—at least, that he won’t do anything to physically hurt me. But he’s getting pretty damn close to scaring me, and I don’t care for it one bit.
I’ve never been sexually assaulted before—at least, I’ve never been raped. I think every girl my age has probably been grabbed or groped against her will at some point—hell, we even had a president who boasted about such things—but beyond that, I’ve managed to steer clear of such violence.
Narrowly, though. And only by being careful. If Cam were anyone else, I’d never let him into my trailer. Not this drunk.
I head straight for my medicine cabin when we step inside and pop a Xanny. I try to limit my intake of this sort of drug, but desperate times call for
