Nate looked incredible. So into his music. So painfully vulnerable and attractive as he yelled up there on the stage, all the emotion in the world coming out through his voice. Ada was always shocked at how he sang—how much pent-up rage seemed to come out through his words. He never showed that kind of serious feeling around her or anyone else. Just when he sang. Or shouted. Whatever it was called.

She was sitting to the side of the low platform that served as the band's stage. The bar was filled with an eighteen-and-older crowd, and Ada was one of a few people who were underage, all of whom were friends of the band members. They hadn't had to pay cover, either. Of course, Ada didn't really know who all of the band's friends were. She just recognized several of the faces as people who'd been at other concerts or parties in the past. Nate never really introduced her to people. She'd briefly met his friends in the band—the drummer, the bass player, the keyboardist, the lead guitar—but she'd never talked to any of them for more than ten or so minutes at a time. It was like, Nate always came to drag her attention away. He'd never wanted her to get to know anyone else. She'd always figured he just kind of wanted her to himself, but now she was wondering if it wasn't because he'd been a little embarrassed of her.

The bar was smoky. People were drinking, but the underage people had a permanent marker X swabbed onto their hands when they entered, so there was no chance for Ada to get something alcoholic. Not that she really cared. She'd never been that interested in mind-altering substances until she'd needed the pills from Dr. Alder to get her brain off Zach. Even the few occasions when she'd done pot had only been because Nate had told her to. She'd never suggested the stuff. She thought it stunk, anyway. So drinking wasn't on her mind. She was just trying to get over the flying sensation in the pit of her stomach. The wonderful yet anxious feeling she had being back here, where she'd been with Nate so many times, where she'd sat, just like she was now, watching him play and feeling an almost snobbish sort of pride at the fact that she was dating the hot, intense lead singer of the band.

Jess was off somewhere. She'd disappeared pretty quickly when they'd gotten there. After the odd car-ride conversation, the two girls hadn't said much to one another. And they'd gotten to The Cat's Meow about fifteen minutes late. The band had already started their set, and even though Nate had been really into what he was doing, he'd managed to shoot Ada a somewhat-nasty look when she'd sat down. Or maybe she'd just imagined that . . .

Nate's band played punk rock music with a bit of an industrial sound to it, mostly offered by the keyboardist. Ada liked it all right. She hadn't been too into that kind of music until she'd met Nate. Zach had been more into it than she was. Then he'd gotten into some real heavy alternative. Lots more yelling and swearing, although you couldn't really tell what was being said because they were so loud.

There she went thinking about Zach. NO! She had no brain space left for him anymore. He was out of her mind. Out! She'd have to take more medicine when she got home.

The set seemed like it was over before it got started. Soon, the band left the stage amidst the typical cheers and applause and went to pack up their instruments. It was nearing ten-thirty. She'd have just enough time to talk for a few minutes and then Jess could drive her home.

Winding through the people, Ada made her way toward the room behind the stage, which was where musicians and whoever else was performing could have space to organize themselves. The guys were back there, along with a few friends, including Jess, who appeared to be having some heated conversation with Nate as he helped pack the amps onto a cart. When he saw Ada standing there, he immediately stopped arguing, kind of shoved Jess aside, and came toward the door.

He put one arm up against the wall, above Ada's shoulder, and stood looking darkly at her. "Did you like the set?"

She was nervous just having him so close to her. She could practically feel his breath on her face. "Yeah," was all she could manage.

For about a minute, he just stood staring at her, a light smile creeping onto his face. Then, he said, "Come on. I'll take you home," and moved to turn away.

"Um . . ." Ada grabbed his arm before he could walk back into the room. "No . . . Nate. I think Jess should take me home. She lives closer to me than you do, anyway. So it's best if she drives me. Right Jess? You'll take me home?" She said the last words loud enough for Jess to hear.

Jess turned, looked blankly at Ada for a few seconds, moved her eyes to Nate as if passing some secret on to him, then sort of shook her head and went to talk to the bass player.

"See?" Nate said. "I'll drive you home."

As he left to continue moving junk around, Ada felt her stomach sink. This was not a good idea, she knew. Not a good idea at all. But there was nothing she could do about it.

They drove in complete darkness, complete silence, for the first several minutes. Nate was quiet for reasons Ada couldn't know, and she was silent because of the fear growing in her. She should've insisted Jess take her home. Or called a cab. But Nate had been so convincing in the few words he'd spoken. She hadn't wanted to anger him by refusing. She'd gone all that way to see him. Maybe he'd realize how much she'd put herself on the line to come be with him again and really, actually, just take her home. It seemed like that might be just what he intended to do, until Ada noticed that they'd veered off the highway at the wrong exit. An exit she knew led through the wooded area behind her subdivision and into a neighborhood far past hers. Her heart beat fast; still, the silence remained. She didn't know what to say.

"Thanks for coming out, tonight," said Nate suddenly, his voice cutting the quiet dark like a blade.

Ada wasn't sure what to make of his words. Or his tone. She hadn't sensed any emotion in it, negative or positive. And she didn't dare look at him. So she said nothing.

He was a little irritated—she could tell by the way he said his next string of words. "I don't know what you expected."

"I didn't expect anything," she replied, finding her voice though still unable to turn toward him. "I just came to hear the music. Because you asked me to. I don't expect or want anything from you." Hesitating, she added, "And thanks for the ride home," hoping that he was just taking some shortcut she didn't know about.

His short, mocking laugh told her he definitely had no intention of taking her home. "Shut up. You know, first of all, that I'm not heading toward your house. And second, you know you want everything from me. Maybe you don't expect it, but you damn right want it."

"I do not," she hurriedly answered, knowing that she wasn't sounding half as confident as she wanted to.

"Right. That's why you came tonight, even though you've been saying it's over. That's why you took the ride, when you know you shouldn't have. You can't let go of me, Ada. Admit it."

She burned inside. He was right. And it was killing her.

"In fact, what you don't seem to understand is that I've already let go of you. I don't give a shit about you anymore. All I care about is the way you treated me. Like I was the one who could be forgotten."

He'd pulled off to the side of the road. There were trees left and right, heavy, thick trees that were black lumps in the darkness. Moonlight had reached only their tops and down into the few spots where a tree had died. The road was two-lane, and it was empty. They were on the shoulder. All alone in a midnight world. Ada's mind was racing. She had no idea what Nate intended to do. Kill her? No. Even he wasn't so awful. But there was no telling what he had in mind. She'd wandered like a stupid animal into this trap—like an animal that knew the cage was going to snap shut but couldn't resist testing it.

Nate turned the car off, looked at her. His strong, beautiful features were etched in pale blue moonlight. His dark eyes met hers. Drilled holes into her skull. "Now you're a mess because of me."

She was disgusted with his grin as much as she was intrigued by it. Quietly, opening a soft part of her heart, she replied, "I know I'm screwed up, now. But don't flatter yourself; it isn't because of you."

The smirk left his face. Smoldering anger replaced it. Shoving the driver-side door open, Nate stepped out of the car and slammed his door, hard. He rounded the front of the car; Ada sat inside, riveted in terror, unable to make a move. Within seconds he had jerked her door open, grabbed onto her arm tight, and yanked her out of the car. She blurted out things she didn't even understand. Begging him to stop, asking him what he was doing—the exact words, she didn't know. It didn't matter, because he wasn't listening as he dragged her off the pavement and down into the woods. Their feet crunched into the leaves that had been left over from the fall. They both stumbled more than once in the darkness. Nate kept a firm grip on her upper arm. She tried to twist it out of his hold, but it was no use. He was too strong, and now he was being driven by some sort of anger or rage that she couldn't stop. She had no idea how he knew where he was going. Maybe he didn't know. It was practically black there. The moonlight glinted off damp leaves or branches every few feet, and there was a sort of deep, deep blue that surrounded them and turned into absolute blackness on all sides. All Ada knew was her inability to see properly, the pain in her arm, the sobs that were beginning to come from her, and the incredible panic in her stomach.

It seemed they'd been going on for ages before Nate suddenly stopped, pulled Ada forward, and shoved her against a tree. He held her arms so she couldn't move them and got right up close to her. Pressed his entire body against hers, hard, as if he was afraid she'd try and run off. He was panting from the run, and his heavy breaths mingled with hers as their chests heaved from the exertion.

Ada couldn't quite see his face. She saw the lightness of his skin and the dark stripes across his forehead and nose which had to be his black, longish hair. His eyes were like holes. His nose not visible. His mouth another open hole. He was saying nothing, and she could hardly concentrate with the pain of being crushed against the tree.

At length, Nate spoke, and his words seemed laced with poison. "Nobody walks out on me. Nobody."

Then, to Ada's absolute shock, he closed the inches of space between their faces and kissed her. His lips moved against hers perfectly. He didn't smush into her like she would've expected him to, at that point. The world felt as if it was melting. The sensation of his mouth touching hers, his probing tongue, crashed into the terror still in her and the pain in her back and arms. The blackness and frigid air around them. The eerie quiet of the woods and the emotional charge of the situation. It was amazing and horrible at the same time. She had no willpower to turn away from it. And in the back of her mind, she regretted how much she was loving his kiss. It seemed the best ever had. Nate's hands weren't moving from her arms, but they squeezed harder, and in the midst of kissing him, Ada gasped in pain and moved her shoulders. He responded by pressing against her more, and she felt her heart quicken. Did he plan on suffocating her? No—he backed up a little to kiss her neck, and then, as Ada was trying half-heartedly to figure out how to tell him to stop, she felt a sharp sting on her throat and realized he was biting her. Hard.

A half-sob, half-scream came out of her. She didn't know where it came from, but it shattered the strange quiet that'd closed in around them. "Stop it!" she cried. Now trying to shove him off. Now desperate to get him away from her. With every bit of energy she possessed, Ada pushed him just far enough away to make him stop.

As he lifted his head, Ada saw the evil grin on his face. His eyes now seemed filled with moonlight. He was laughing, and his laugh made her fear resurface twice as ferocious as it'd been.

Through his laughter, Nate hissed, "I never wanted you, anyway." He let go. Stepped back. Raised his arm.

Before Ada could move, the back of Nate's hand hit her face so hard it knocked her over. She fell to the ground, seeing stars she knew were impossible to see in such darkness, and then the pain came. With it, she blacked out.