“Fuck, those are great legs.” That’s what he said.

When you meet a new guy, the hardest part can be making a bridge. A connection. Still, most times ‘connection’ doesn’t mean he grabs your legs and pulls. But you have to give a guy a break when you’re upside down in a snow drift - even when you’re wearing a skirt. And if he’s cute, and the first thing he knows about you is the colour of your underwear, what’s a girl got to lose? In Sam’s case it was her clothes, and as far as she was concerned it couldn’t happen soon enough.

On her eighteenth birthday, it did. And it was great. Until he killed her mom. Until she told him to go to hell – and sent herself too.

But bridges are patient. One way or another you always have to cross. The only choice you get is which way - and now it’s time.