Hey guys, it's me again. Sorry it took so long for a second chapter. Thank you lots HottPinkNailsItsBarbiee for reviewing! I hope you like this chapter. Review pretty please! Thanks!

Melinda's POV

I slammed my hand down on my buzzing cell phone as 'Bottoms Up' started playing. I was too concentrated on what I was drawing to look at the text message. I knew it was Taylor anyway, she'd set the song as her ringtone for when she texted any of us on our cells.

I finished shading the last part of what I was drawing and dropped my pencil, replacing it with my cell phone. My eyes quickly scanned the message. Juliet wanted us to meet her at her dad's hotel-he owned the most beautiful, five star hotel in the state. I clucked my tongue. We only went to the hotel when she was in a very good mood, or a very bad mood. I lifted my eyes to my creamy white ceiling and prayed she was in a good mood. When she was pissed, she was pissed.

If we were staying at the hotel because she was mad about something, it was a freaking nightmare. Juliet would have us cooped up in the room all night, watching horribly gory horror movies while she furiously braided and re-braided our hair, as if she wanted to rip our hair out of our heads. She would rant to us about what made her so upset, and we'd have to be ever so sweet and sympathetic. We wanted to comfort her, of course, but after a while, it just got old. The only upside to these pity parties was the fact that beforehand, she'd go on a crazy shopping spree and buy each of us the cutest new outfits.

However, if she was in a particularly good mood, we'd have the best nights ever. We'd put on our cutest outfits (or Juliet's cutest outfits-she had a closet at the hotel that was literally the size of a whole hotel room, just like her one at home), and then stalk around the hotel, hitting the gourmet restaurants and the under 21 club, which was right inside. Then, Juliet would always get her dad to leave the pools and hot tubs open until past 2 in the morning. Sometimes, she could even get some of the teenage boys who worked there to sneak her a couple six packs of beer. Not that I even drank any. I was sworn off alcohol. I'd never so much as taken a sip, and didn't plan on it. It was a good time though.

I quickly tapped out a reply and pressed send. With a glance at my clock, I realized I only had half an hour to get there. I sent a new text to my mom, who was reading a self-help book in her room, asking her if she could drive me. She quickly sent back a response saying yes.

No matter what kind of mood Juliet was in today, she expected us to look our best whenever we were in public. My eyes scanned my closet, and spotted nothing that interested me. I sighed and made a mental note to ask the girls to go shopping soon as I snuck out of my room and into my older sister's. She was away in Paris for some summer college program, and had even more clothes than me. She'd bought a whole new wardrobe for college, and left behind a whole walk-in-closet full at home. My eyes stopped on a Valentino gathered lace skirt that probably cost more than my whole closet combined and a pink tank top.

Grinning, I grabbed the clothes and walked back to my room to put them on. I quickly threw the outfit on and paired it with a pair of cream colored Kate Spade flats and a silver Tiffany Bracelet my sister gave me years ago. I tilted my chin up, checking my clear, light tan skin. I ran my fingers through my dark brown hair and smiled.

I heard someone open my door just as I was getting on my soft pink lipstick. My hair was suddenly yanked, and my lipstick smeared on my cheek as I let out a scared squeal.

"So you're going out, huh? Didn't think to ask me, huh?" A gruff voice growled in my ear. "Is it a boy?" He pulled harder on my hair.

'No!" I whimpered. "My friends. Juliet and Halley and-"

He pulled again and cut me off. "Disrespect me again, and you'll know what's coming. Now get out of my house."

I whimpered again as he gave me a hard shove, pushing my arm against the edge of my vanity and slicing it in the process. My other hand clamped around the cut. he walked out of my room, a satisfied smirk on his face, and slammed the door behind him.

I took a deep breath, fighting off the tears in my eyes. I eyed the cut, which stretched along the side of my upper arm. It hurt like hell. I stumbled into my bathroom and rinsed off my arm, and the blood trickled down to my hand. I took out a bandage and wrapped it around.

I stared in the mirror. I looked pitiful. My eyes were slightly red and puffing out, my hair was all over the place, my shirt was rumpled, I had lipstick all over my face. It was times like these, when I was staring into the mirror at myself, that I realized how bad a state I was in. I felt empty, like I'd never be happy again. This feeling could last days, weeks, months. My friends thought I was bipolar or depressed or something. Maybe I am.

I wish I could get out. Somehow, I had to get out of this rut I'm in. I wanted all of this crap off my shoulders, to let go and actually be free from all these thoughts for once. I kept finding it harder and harder to laugh. Not fake laugh, really laugh out loud. I want to mean it. I want to feel weightless.

Not right now. I'm too busy to worry about this now. It's meant for some other day, another time, another place.

I rubbed concealer around my eyes, pulled a brush through my hair, straightened out my shirt. I lifted a washcloth to my cheek and cleaned off the lipstick.

One spritz of perfume, a new layer of lipstick, and a 'I'm a perfect girl' smile, and I was running down the stairs for my mom.

I reached into my bag, which was now slung over my arm, and blinked confusedly as I noticed a new text message from a number I didn't recognize. I clicked 'open' and read it.

Melinda, babe! Wassup? I would ask how

your life's going…but, well, I guess we both

know the answer to that. Poor baby, step-

daddy don't love you, huh? God, that is annoying. I

know what would happen if anyone said

anything about your relationship…so let's

just keep this between me and you?

xoxo-A

My heart was pounding, my head swimming with confusion. I dug through my purse to find my lipstick, which I happened to reapply obsessively when I was nervous. Then, I saw it. It was a Polaroid picture, the image still appearing. I took it out and furiously shook it.

"Oh my god." I whispered to myself, a pang in my gut. It was a picture of my step-dad, a fistful of my hair in his hand, while he shoved me.

Someone saw it. Someone saw my secret.

And it could not get out.

Manage me, I'm a mess

Turn a page, I'm a book half unread

I wanna be laughed at, laughed with, just because

I wanna feel weightless, and that should be enough.

Well I'm stuck in this fucking rut

waiting on a secondhand pick me up

And I'm over, getting older

If I could just find the time, I would never let another day go by

I'm over, getting old

I hope you guys liked the chapter! Please review with comments, compliments, advice, criticism, etc. Thanks lots!

Hugs and Kisses!

~Rosie