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352 pages, Paperback
First published August 5, 2014
'The cops wanted to know if I was Zac's girlfriend, if I was drinking, doing drugs, if I ever worked as a stripper, if I ever kissed Zac before that night.This book made me cry.
What the hell does any of that have to do with what happened?
Do the laws against sexual assault not apply to strippers? To girlfriends? I don't get that. (...) He thinks because I went to the woods, drank alcohol, and dressed the way I dress, I should have expected this to happen. That I actually wanted this to happen.
(...) What the hell, just what the hell was wrong with how I looked...why does he care if I wear eye-black like the football team? It's my face. It's my body. I can dress it up or down however I want. Why is that such a hard concept for guys to accept? All that crap Jax said about dressing to be noticed - being noticed is fine. But being noticed isn't the same as being ridiculed, insulted, ostracised, shamed.
Being noticed isn't an open invitation to guys to do whatever they want to me.'




















"I'm not dunk." To prove it, I gulp down more whiskey.
"Yeah, you are."
"If I were drunk, you'd be on top of me."
He looks too soft, too beautiful to be a killer, but appearances can be deceptive -
they say Ted Bundy looked like Cary Grant.
“Okay, but—”
“There are no buts. There is no reason you can give me that makes that right. Go tell your sisters they asked for it. Tell your sisters why it’s their fault when someone calls them a slut.”
“I wouldn’t let my sisters leave the house dressed like you,” Ian retorts.
“You wouldn’t let them? Are you their master?”