"Shae, please... please pick up." Grey choked on a sob, sounding as if he'd been shot. "Oh my God, I... I'm so sorry. I just saw the news and I... I should have been there. I'm so sorry. Please call me. I love you. I know you'll probably need a place to stay and my door... my door is always open. I'm sorry." Another sob. "I love you."

"End of new messages."

Shae sighed heavily, dropping back onto her bed and shoving the phone aside. Kye had told her they'd figure it out too, and now they were, starting with Grey. Grey, the big brother she'd never had, who'd just found out she'd been being trafficked for nine months. It was obviously killing him, just like she'd known it would.

Part of her wanted to call him back, swear she was okay, but the other part couldn't. She just couldn't look him in the face, talk to him knowing everything she'd done over the past months.

She couldn't.

So what was she gonna do?

She couldn't go with him, and Kye would tell him what she'd said if she went into the group home.

She just couldn't.

So Tom was her only option.

That was absurd.

She couldn't do that to him.

He'd sworn she wasn't doing anything to him.

But how could that be true?

Her phone started buzzing again. She glanced down to see Grey's name lighting up the screen again.

And the overwhelming feeling of utter shame hit her all over again as well. She shoved it off the bed so she couldn't feel it buzzing, but from the floor, she just heard the vibrations instead.

Why did every option end with her being someone's burden?

That was all she was anymore.

She couldn't think like that and she knew it, but it was true.

At least when she'd been with Garrett, she hadn't been anyone's problem.

A sick little piece of her missed it.

Not because every second hadn't been absolute hell... it had. But because she deserved it. She'd deserved all of it.

She remembered the disgusting feeling of Garrett looking at her, touching her, and she craved it, because that was exactly what she was worth.

Her dad's eyes, filled with so much love as he played her "Priceless" for the first time, popped in her head, and she felt sick.

She'd been a completely different person back then.

For the millionth time, she hoped he was too busy looking at Jesus to see her now.

Her phone started buzzing again, after only a few seconds' respite. It was lying facedown on the floor, but she didn't have to be able to see her surrogate big brother's name to know that it was still him.

Tears began leaking from her eyes.

She hated this.

All she wanted was his disgusting hands to be all over her all over again. She needed a reminder of her own worthlessness.

She rolled over to the edge of her bed and reached down into her backpack for her iPod, but her eyes landed on her boots, and more specifically, the pocket knife dully glinting in one of them.

Leaving the iPod, she scooped the little blade up and sat up to examine it, her legs crossed in front of her. She had no idea how she'd kept it from Garrett and Oscar and everyone else who ever would have wanted to take it away from her every single time.

She could still remember how excited she was when her dad gave it to her on her twelfth birthday. It was her very first knife. He always had his on him, was always the one people looked to if they needed a package opened or a string cut off, and she'd felt just like him.

She also remembered the day she'd gotten the news that he'd been killed, being curled up in her closet, the knife pressed against her wrist just enough to hurt without breaking skin. Grey had knocked on her bedroom door, having heard the news and come by to check on her and be there for her, the second before she'd sliced her own wrist open.

When he came in and saw it in her hand, she could still remember the heartbroken look on his face. Even then, he hadn't taken it away from her... he'd already known it was a gift from her father and taking it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Instead, he'd come and sat down next to her and put his arm around her and said so gently, "I don't think he'd want you to use it for that."

She'd sobbed into his shirt for the next hour.

The memory of his unending brotherly love just made her feel even more ashamed.

She didn't deserve it. She'd never deserved it, and she certainly didn't now.

She looked back at the knife in her hand.

She didn't have Garrett to make her feel disgusting. But she had this to make her feel pain.

She flicked the blade open and stared at it in the darkness, moving it to catch the light of the clock on the nightstand at different angles. She touched the cold metal against her skin and pressed, gently enough to avoid breaking skin but hard enough to hurt.

I don't think he'd want you to use it for that.

It didn't matter. He was dead.

She pressed down harder.

The pain stabbed up her arm as hot blood leapt to the surface of the cut.

It felt so good.

It felt so right.

This was who she was, this was what she was worth.

She did it again.

Her phone buzzed with yet another call.

She started to cry again.

She could never face him.

He'd know as soon as he took one look at her. She didn't know how he did it, but he always did, and she had no doubt he'd continue that now.

At least Tom couldn't see through her like she was made of paper.

At least with Tom, she'd have a shot at keeping the bloody salvation she'd just discovered.