• T W E N T Y • F O U R •

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This is your trigger warning. Nothing is detailed or anything like that, but if rape is a sensitive topic for you, I would recommend caution when reading this chapter.

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"The skies are crying with me."

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"Why are you crying?" I ask, coming near to Seraphina.

She bolts upright and frantically swipes at her tears, but only manages to smear them worse.

"Why do you care?" She hisses. "Gonna make fun of me? Hold this over me?"

Her icy blue eyes shine with anger and pure terror. They hold a haunted look that I know all too well.

I force myself to remain calm.

"No. What the hell happened to you?"

"Why? You think you can help me?"

I shoot back, "Well, I don't see anyone else trying to help you."

"You wanna know so bad?! Fine!" Seraphina snarls. "I'll tell you! Tell about the way that my boyfriend fucking rapes me and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it!"

Her outburst gives away as she bursts into a fresh bout of tears. I am stunned, not expecting that. I mean, I was more expecting her problem to be a broken nail or something. But, then again, I knew that it wouldn't be that simple. She has that look in her eyes.

"Who?" I demand in a voice devoid of any emotion.

Rape is no joke. I will fucking kill whoever thought they could do this to someone and get away with it.

"Y-You believe me?" Seraphina says, her eyes darting to mine.

They are filled with hope and fear.

"Are you telling the truth?" I ask her sharply.

"Of course!" She exclaims. "But most people don't believe me when it happens. They say I'm just a slut. That I asked for it. I didn't want it."

My blood boils. 'When it happens.' This isn't the first time. And no one took the time to even try and figure out the truth.

"Seraphina, give me his name. Now," I tell her harshly. "I'm going to kill the fucking dick who did this."

Seraphina sniffles and shakes her head, only causing my fury to grow.

"I don't want him to get in trouble. I just want to be safe. I want to get away from him. He won't let me even leave his sorry ass."

"And no one bothers to help you?!" I burst out, furious.

"No," Seraphina spits. "They said that if I was really being raped, I would do all that I could to stop it. That I wouldn't dress like this. Well, guess what. I tried that. Wearing baggy sweatpants and a loose turtleneck. It didn't do a thing except make me only more ashamed of myself. He still just ripped them off. My clothes are shit, I know that. But, really, showing off skin, getting guys to lust over me, it's really the only way I can feel good about myself."

Her nose is wrinkled in disgust as she stares at herself in the mirror.

"I fucking hate myself."

I look at her in silence, unsure of what to do.

"Why did you even bother with trying to help me?" She asks bitterly, her pale eyes glaring at me, but there is no heat or anger behind her glare.

I shrug and answer honestly, "I don't know, I certainly don't like you."

"That's true," Seraphina agrees with a dry laugh.

"But I don't hate you either," I continue. "My conscience decided to kick in for whatever reason. I stayed, though, because I recognize the look in your eyes."

"What look?" Seraphina questions as she rinses the makeup off her face.

"Haunted. Scared. That look people get when they're all fucked up inside but trying to keep it in," I tell her flatly.

"How do you know?"

"Because I've worn it before," I admit before quickly warning, "But don't ask any more questions if you like your tongue attached."

She opens her mouth and promptly closes it.

"Now, come on," I tell Seraphina. "We're getting out of here. You're coming with me."

"Where?" Seraphina asks, startled.

I glare at her.

"That was a question, but I'll let it slide. This time. And only because I'm so generous."

Seraphina cracks a grin, the first real smile I've ever seen from her. I pull out my phone and call Gage, knowing that it would take too long to text him with my flip phone.

"Hey, I won't be coming," I say lightly. "You meet them there."

"Are you okay?" Gage asks sharply. "Do you need me to come in?"

"I'm fine," I assure him, grinning. "And I'm currently in the bathroom, so I'm not sure that'd be a good idea."

"Alright," Gage agrees. "I'll head to the cabin. You sure you don't need anything."

"Positive. See you later," I tell him before hanging up and stuffing my phone back in my backpack.

Pulling my backpack on, I lead the way out of the school building, a still trembling Seraphina following me.

"Put this on," I tell Seraphina with a sigh as I toss her a large sweatshirt.

"Why?" Seraphina asks as she slips her arms in.

"Do you know nothing but questions?!" I roar before returning to perfectly calm. "Because where we are going, that outfit would just get you raped again. It's true that your outfit shouldn't affect that at all, but it does, unfortunately. Of course, I would just kill anyone who tried to get that close, but I don't feel like killing someone today."

"You've killed before?!" Seraphina squeaks.

I level her with a ferocious glare. Her questions are beginning to piss me off. Majorly.

"I'm certainly changing my opinion about murder..." I mutter, glancing at Seraphina out of the corner of my eye.

I have to fight the corners of my lips to stay down as Seraphina pales dramatically and clamps her mouth shut.

We continue walking in silence until Seraphina breaks it, exclaiming, "You live here?!"

"Got a problem with that?" I challenge, her words rubbing me the wrong way.

"No, it's just... Not many people can survive living here without being in a gang," Seraphina explains before paling further and squeaking, "You're not in a gang, right?"

A smile playing on my lips, I hum slightly and ignore the question.

"Wait! Rage! Answer the question!" Seraphina yells, her eyes wide.

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Seraphina's POV

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I stare into my eyes in the mirror. They're the only thing I like about myself. Icy blue eyes. Cold like my shattered heart. Cheesy, I know, but that's how I feel, okay?

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I allow my eyes to drift over the rest of me. The clothes that cover hardly anything. I mean, the scraps of fabric. My smooth skin screams from everywhere the cloth doesn't cover and I feel the sudden urge to smash the mirror. To scream. To do something. I want to cry, but I can't bring myself to cry. I don't even have the energy for that.

I need to change something.

I can't keep living like this.

Opening the door to the bathroom, I trudge back out to the teeny tiny living room where Rage is screaming obscenities at a book.

"Goddammit! Quit going back to that fucking loser!" She screams. "He cheats on you and you forgive him like that?!"

"Uhh, Rage? You do realize the book can't hear you, right?"

"DID I ASK YOU FOR YOUR FUCKING OPINION?! No, I didn't! So shut up!" Rage roars, making me jump and a shiver of fear run down my spine.

"I-I need your help," I squeak, trying to get my nerves under control and compose myself.

Rage has been shockingly nice to me so far, but I feel like one wrong move and she'll kill me. I think she may have anger issues.

"With what?" Rage asked apprehensively, raising an eyebrow.

"Fixing myself," I mutter. "I need to stop being like this."

"About fucking time," Rage snorts with a roll of her yellow eyes. "I thought for sure my speech would've done the trick."

I roll my own eyes at that. Rage sat me down and talked me through what we are going to do to fix this. I'm not the biggest fan of staying at this tiny house in the most ghetto neighborhood in the city, but my boyfriend would never look for me here. I still haven't told Rage who he is, much to her annoyance. But I don't want him to die, or even pay for what he's done. I just want to be free. To be on my own. To never have to face him again.

Wringing my hands, I wait nervously as Rage leaps up from the couch and heads into a different room. She returns quickly with a bundle of clothes.

"Put these on," She orders, tossing them to me.

I manage to catch them and see that she gave me a pair of gray jeans and a yellow shirt. I'll admit, I'm a bit surprised that she has a bright yellow shirt. She normally wears white, black, and grey. Yellow isn't my favorite color, but I do love bright colors. I give Rage a grateful smile and she nods back.

Taking the clothes into the bathroom, I quickly change, avoiding looking at the mirror.

"Now what?" I ask, reentering the living room.

Honestly, this whole shitty house is so small, I'm surprised anyone can live here. I don't know how Rage and her parents fit in here at all.

"You stop asking questions and follow me into the garage," Rage snaps, shooting me a glare.

My cheeks burn. I don't mean to ask so many questions, really. I just want to know what's going on, and I have no clue what's going on.

As I am following Rage into the garage, I can't help but feel nervous. Like this was all a trick to lure me into the garage where Rage is going to lock me up and spend the next ten years torturing me to death.

Shaking my head, I realize the two flaws in that theory. One, if she wanted to hurt or kill me, she's had plenty of opportunities already. Second, Rage hates me too much to want to spend ten years with me, even if she does get to torture me.

I follow Rage into a single car garage that is full of workout equipment and three different kinds of punching bags. One that you see in the movies where they punch it all quick, one that standing upright and is about as tall as I am, and a heavy looking one that is hanging from the ceiling. I've never used a punching bag before, but now that I see them, I kind of want to try it.

I head toward the punching bags, glancing at Rage who is impassively staring back. Shivering slightly at the creepy girl, I make a fist and punch at the standing punching bag.

"Again," Rage says from where she is standing.

I hit it a few more times and wince, backing up and looking at my hands. The knuckles are already slightly red from the rough canvas of the bag and my wrist hurts slightly.

"Do it like this," Rage instructs shortly, stepping up to the bag.

I back up to give her space and she begins. She moves quickly, her fists slamming into the bag and make it swing back with each hit, but I have a feeling she is holding back so she can show how to do it. Carefully, I watch her stance and the way her arms move. Her right foot is behind the left foot and she always has at least one fist raised. Rage swivels her hips and throws her body into her punches except for the lighter ones that I'm pretty sure are called jabs. On those ones, she still swivels, but she doesn't throw her all into them. She is constantly bouncing on her feet and moving in a beautiful dance of precision and power.

"Got it?" Rage asks, moving away, somehow not out of breath at all. "Now, try it again. Oh, and put these on."

She hands me two long rolls of red fabric, but I merely stare at them in confusion. But I don't ask her what to do with them or what they are for. After all, I wouldn't want to ask another question. I shudder at the thought of making her angry. Now that I have seen just how impressive her skills are, I'm even more against the idea of making Rage rage.

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So, some news on the sequel, Conspire. It will be about a new lead character. The Elements of Rage will connect with Conspire, but you don't have to read Conspire if you don't like sequels and you don't have to have read The Elements of Rage to read Conspire. Then *fingers crossed* there will be a third book to tie them together and wrap it all up.

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Q: What is your favorite tense and perspective to read from generally?

A: I prefer to read present tense and first point of view, but I like to write all of them. Also, I just saw this ad for writing help and the first "tip" was to "NEVER, EVER write in present tense! Readers actually hate this!" Is that true? Cuz I happen to love present tense both to read and write.