Breathe You (Pieces of Broken Book 2) Page 9

  I lay back in the bed and buried myself under the covers once again, attempting to block out my Angel, once and for all.

  Be there in fifteen.

  JACE’S TEXT RATTLED my phone. I was in no mood for company. After the night I’d had, and the realization that I would never have Blake back again, I was done. The fog clouding my head had never been thicker, and it was suffocating me. I needed a game plan, I knew I did, but I was too feeble to come up with one, and my lack of strength was taking away any care I had to try.

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  The harsh knocking shook my door with force.

  Is he kidding banging like that?

  I twisted the bolts, unlocking them, and tugged at the handle. “What the hell is your—” Sooner than I could get the door fully open, it whacked into me, shoving me backward. Before I could register what was happening, Damon’s large body was over the threshold—pure rage rolling off of him, his fists clenched into tight balls at his sides.

  I gasped. “Wh—what are you doing here?” I choked out, stumbling back in disbelief.

  Am I having a nightmare?

  “What’s the matter, beautiful? Not happy to see me?” he mocked as he kicked the door shut, a vein streaking the side of his neck in a pointed bulge.

  Paralyzed, I couldn’t answer, still in shock that he was standing in my living room. He took my lack of a response as an invitation to come in farther, and I instinctively backed up at his advance.

  He narrowed his gaze. “What did you say to her?” he demanded, the evil in his eyes unmasked—focused and aggressive.

  What is he talking about? Even though Abby had made it seem as though Damon was fine, he had been unraveling last I’d seen him, so I wasn’t sure how mentally stable he was. Memories of him pinning me to my mother’s cushions slammed me from all angles. I cupped my cheek, remembering the harsh slap he’d laid there. Sure, the visible mark was gone, but the sting still lay deep within my flesh. I shook my head, trying to remain focused, the reminiscent stench of old beer curdling my stomach.

  “What did I say to who?” My voice shook with the fear in my gut that he was here to hurt me, my eyes darting around to find any sort of weapon should I need it. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Really, it’s ugly on you,” he accused, raking a hand through his hair with impatience, the threads of his demeanor beginning to unstitch.

  Another step.

  My gaze dropped to his advancing legs and then rode back up to his face, which looked as though it were planning all the ways to dismantle me behind those odious eyes. The farther and farther he came into my apartment, the less hope I had that I would get out of this unscathed.

  My mind whirled, grasping at straws through the panic. The only thing I could think to do was feign indifference. Make him think he was crazy. “Damon, I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’ve barely talked to anyone in my family in months if you haven’t noticed.” My voice was shaky despite my words, my eyes prickling with tears of fear. Where is Jace? Hurry up!

  “She was here,” he spat matter-of-factly. “She told me she came here. And she came home all fucked up. Said you ran out on her, talking about me hurting people and shit. Is she lying?” I flinched as his voice banged off the walls with a roar as his tolerance depleted.

  When he took another step, I recoiled, shrinking into my skin as bile pooled in my mouth.

  Fucking Abby.

  A cool sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

  A lump traveled from the pit of my stomach to the back of my throat. The look in his eye, the feel of him closing in on me, stealing my air . . .

  Seconds felt like hours as different responses ran rampant through my head.

  Yes, she’s lying.

  No, she was never here.

  I said it, but only as a joke.

  Get the fuck out, or I’m going to scream!

  And then a whisper.

  Don’t hurt me.

  “You ungrateful bitch.” The words slithered from his mouth, the disgust in his tone slinging dirt at me. He wasn’t yelling which frightened me more. This was eerier, as though he actually believed I’d disregarded a favor. He was so sick and twisted.

  Another step, closing in my world a bit tighter. My lids fluttered in a dazed fog as I became lightheaded. I retreated, but he didn’t seem to care as he took one step after another.

  Unhurried.

  Deliberate.

  “You fucking promised,” he spoke calmly like he knew what was coming and was just trying to convince himself he was right in his actions. “I told you before we ever did anything that you could never tell because she'd get mad. That she’d never forgive me for not telling her.” He dragged air into his flared nostrils.

  My apartment was small. There wasn’t much more room to go until I would be backed against a wall. Claustrophobia crawled up my throat, its nails a prickling scratchiness. I couldn’t find my words as he moved me farther and farther inside, trapping me. Each step trampling on my hope that this would turn out okay.

  “I forced myself to fuck a prude so I could help you out, and now that you're over it, you want to ruin my life? Act like you didn’t ask for it?” He scoffed. “Did you forget you told me you wanted it, sweetheart? You needed me.” He stabbed an accusing finger at me and then back at himself. “You were so desperate to learn, you practically begged me for it. Pathetic.” He spat out the word.

  I clutched my chest. He was sicker than I thought. Does he actually believe that? Is that why he never stopped? Did he truly think I wanted it? Liked it?

  Bubbles rolled from the pit of my stomach to the base of my throat, threatening to spill out of my mouth. I forced a narrowed, dry swallow. The whole thing was a mind-fuck that I couldn’t wrap my head around.

  Shaking at the prospect of what would surely come once he was in grabbing distance, I glanced around at my belongings. My purple hoodie hung from the peg beside the door, and my schoolbag sat on the chair pulled out from the table in the corner, the sun streaming in from the glass door leading to the balcony. My home.

  My new home.

  This was the one place in my life that wasn’t tainted by him. There weren’t any hauntings trapped inside these walls. I couldn’t allow him to add another one to his collection.

  I sucked in a breath, trying to steady my trembling lip while squaring my shoulders. “Get the fuck out.” My voice was all-but a whisper, but it was laced with an authority I wasn’t sure I possessed. Still, little pieces of me began to float toward my center as a confidence built.

  His eyes trained on mine with a cocky assurance that told me he couldn't care less what I had to say. “I’ll leave when I’m good and ready. You’re gonna get my point. You want to see what forced feels like?” He took a giant stride toward me, clasping my wrist in his huge paw as he tugged me to his chest.

  I yelped, my heart banging against the confines of him caged up against me—my insides raging in fear. The edge of his lip curled in disgust. “Look at you. You’re all skinny and frail now. Even easier to manipulate how I’d like.” He flicked my chin to prove his point with a sneer, and I tossed my head to the side, panting in desperate spurts. Lowering his mouth to my ear, he still managed to keep the hatred in his focus on my eyes. “But probably one terrible fuck.” The last letter clicked from the back of his tongue and nausea rolled through me in waves.

  I buckled down, pretending to be strong when inside I was as brittle as a dried out leaf. “Jace is on the way.” I shook out. “So, unless you’re ready to go very public with our little secret,” I leaned into his ear, mirroring his hateful look through budding tears but not taking my eyes from his, “I suggest you take your hands the fuck off me.” I accentuated the same word, struggling against the quiver in my lips.

  After a long stare-down, my wrist throbbing with a hot, pulsating pain as it lost its blood, Damon threw my arm back at me and retreated, causing me to bow forward in a whoosh. He sized me up with
each of his backward steps, a sneer amongst his cold, icy glare. I rubbed the ache in my wrist, trying to figure out his next move, not trusting that he was really done with me.

  “One of these days, I’m gonna find a way to put that little pussy in his place, too.” He cocked his head in thought. “Although he might enjoy it.” His smile was sickening, laced with a revolting promise.

  Bile rose in my throat, and I knew that if I didn’t get him to leave now, I’d be sick right here on the carpet. “He’s probably outside right now. Why don’t you tell him that yourself?” It was a bold move, but the only thing I could think of to possibly scare him enough to leave.

  “Just remember what I said.” He bore his gaze into mine, attempting to coax me into believing his words. “You wanted every bit of what we did together. Fuck with my relationship, and I really will make you a victim.” He tossed the words at me before curling his hands around my doorknob. “Make it right, Eva. Or I will be back. I think you know that.”

  I jumped as the door slammed behind him, rattling the frames on the wall beside it. My chest filled and hollowed in a hurried rhythm as my lungs sucked in whatever air it could find. Although his presence was gone, his aura still lingered, tainting me with his filth as I dragged it inside. Covering my mouth, I ran at full speed to the bathroom, tripping over my feet to reach the bowl before I lost the contents of my stomach. My knees slammed into the tile as my back heaved.

  “Eva!” Jace’s voice bellowed through my apartment.

  I couldn’t answer as the next wave caused my back to buck. A second later, Jace was at my side, scooping up my hair into his hands. “Are you okay? I just saw Damon in the hallway. Did he hurt you? What the fuck was he doing here?”

  “I’m okay,” I breathed. “Just give me a second.”

  I sat back on my heels as he filled a cup of water and brought it over to me. When everything that Damon had said—everything he could have done—barreled back toward me, the tears began to flow in a never-ending loop. I couldn’t voice what was going on inside, how sick he was.

  Eventually, my tears seemed to wash away my fears, leaving me with a cold kind of numbness. An awareness filtered in as I sat crumbled into my best friend’s arms on the tile floor of the bathroom.

  I was done.

  So done.

  MY TOE DUG into the spout of the bathtub as I twisted and turned it, my eyes stuck in a deranged, mad state. Clutching a wine glass to my chest, I stared at the motion. Back and forth. Back and forth. I pictured things I shouldn’t, imagined things that rotted my insides.

  Ending Damon’s life—his blood splattered amongst the tiles.

  And then my own, trickling down my wrists.

  With a vibrating clank, I set the wine glass on the ledge, my eyes skirting to the razor sitting beside it. My chest filled, sucking in courage. My eyes welled, blurring. My lips parted, trembling. I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the blade, its cool, hard smoothness sending a rocket through my chest.

  A fat tear bubbled. I blinked and felt it roll from my saturated lid, freeing itself to mingle into the water below. Sobs.

  My chest hitched with spasms as I held a shaky hand to the delicate flesh of my upturned palm.

  Sobs.

  Sobs.

  Sobs.

  Not again. Don’t let him take you again.

  I stared at my quivering hand, felt the scratch of the blade as my fingers trembled, heard her voice trying to reach me. What am I doing?

  With a splash, my hand dropped along with my foot, the water spattering on my face and mingling with the tears that now poured. My distraught body gave way, slumping and shaking beneath the water.

  And everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went . . .

  IT’S A FUNNY thing what happens when you’re stuck between never and nowhere. A faint shutting down of sorts. Time drips on, seeming to soak into the linoleum beneath your feet. Motionless. Meaningless. You stare at nothing, nowhere, wondering where you are and how you got there.

  Paint chips. Love morphs and wilts. Crinkles and splits to your existence happen, but you’re impervious to it.

  You don’t remember who you are. Why you are. You just stop.

  Cease.

  The death before the rebirth.

  And then you awaken.

  I needed help.

  My heels scraped along the carpet as I paced, waiting impatiently for my name to be called. I needed the poison out before I didn’t believe it myself anymore. Before I lost the nerve. Something bubbled inside, and I was ready to combust like a boiling pot of tea. I wiped my sweaty palms down the front of my thighs as a middle-aged woman approached on long, sleek legs. A cheerful smile welcomed me from red-painted lips as she stuck out her hand in greeting.

  “Nice to meet you, Eva. I’m Doctor Christianson.”

  I returned her handshake with a feeble slant to my mouth and followed her into the next room. It was cozy, made to look like a worn-in living room. My options were a recliner and a couch. I chose the couch and took the opportunity to peruse my surroundings as she gathered a pad and pen.

  “Chilly today, no?” Her smooth voice pulled me away from her bookshelf and the prestigious degrees on the wall.

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Guess so.” I was trying to appear calm, having just met the doctor, but my knee was bobbing up and down, giving me away.

  A slow smile spread while she analyzed me from the tops of her eyes. She was a pro about it, discreet, but I was a pro at noticing when people were doing it.

  I fidgeted more.

  “So, Eva. Tell me why you’re here.”

  “I was raped.” The statement toppled from my mouth, and I straightened my spine, unbelievably unsure of why the words picked that moment to do so. I stood and began to pace, shaking out my hands at my sides. “Crap, that felt good. I always beat around the bush, y’know.” I took a deep breath and smiled, enjoying the liberation and forgetting I wasn’t alone.

  A glance out the window showed me a busy city below. People going about their business as though I hadn’t just unloaded the heaviest three words I had ever spoken. Movement in the glare of the glass caught my attention, and I turned to find Doctor Christianson analyzing my demeanor, my actions.

  She brushed a stray hair from her forehead, except there wasn’t a highlighted hair out of place. A tell sign that she was just as taken back at my abruptness as I was. She really should pay better attention to her own actions if she didn’t want to show her hand. “Well, that was very brave of—”

  “I’ve never said that before,” I exhaled, not caring what she had to say as the enormity of what I had just admitted crashed all around me. “Not the actual words.” I suddenly felt self-conscious and made my way back to sit on the couch. My hands shook with the weight of my words, and I knotted them into a ball in my lap.

  “Well, that’s quite an accomplishment then. I’m honored you picked me to share it with first.” I could hear the smile in her voice, but I couldn’t look at her. I wouldn't say anything more if I did.

  “I guess. It won’t do any good, but my friend is harassing me to talk to someone. So . . .”

  “Sounds like a good friend,” the educated woman stated.

  “Sorry I blurted that out like that. It’s just I’ve been holding it in for so long. And I’m tired.” My voice lowered, and I wasn’t sure if I was still speaking to her or myself. “I’m so fucking tired.”

  “That was a big step. We can backpedal in a moment, but I’m glad you unburdened yourself of that. It had to be pretty heavy carrying it around all this time.”

  “You have no idea,” I huffed, relief swarming me.

  Doctor Christianson’s smile was adrift, reminiscent, and I wondered briefly if maybe she did know. “So, who’s this friend of yours?”

  “Just Jace, the friend who gave me your card. He’s hard to forget. I’m sure you remember the gorgeous, eccentric gay boy.”

  The doctor cocked her head to the side. “I don’t know anyone li
ke that.”

  “You sure?” I questioned. “He left me your card and badgered me that you were the doctor I should call. Like he’d looked into you and knew you’d be perfect for me.”

  I scrolled through pictures on my phone and brought up one of him and turned it to face her. “Here.”

  The good doctor smiled. “You’re right. I would remember him.” She chuckled and handed me the phone back, then folded her hands in her lap. “But I don’t. I’ve never met him.”

  So strange. I shrugged and played it off like it was no big deal, but something about that didn’t quite sit right with me. What’s that boy hiding now? Brushing that thought aside, I started at the beginning. At the safe stuff. My background and my home life, not really touching on the details of my past. We would have to ease back into that.

  When my hour was up, I exhaled a liberating breath.

  “Not so bad, huh?” Doctor Christianson’s smile was warm. Over the past hour, she had dug into me here-and-there, loosening up as she got to know me a bit. I could tell that if she had more time, she could easily be a little bit of a pit bull and even though I was still very fragile, I couldn’t help but think that might be exactly what I needed.

  “No, not so bad.” I returned her friendliness, genuinely surprised at how easy that was. “I needed that more than I realized.”

  The Basin

  A tub of water

  fissures down the surface

  I hear the noise and know it's coming

  crackly splits as the tub forgets its purpose

  It's been holding the burden for much too long

  fighting the pressure and caging it in

  Staying strong against the windy tides

  not realizing eventually the liquid burden would win

  Millions of drops of water