Page 85 of Unbroken

Suddenly, every breath I took felt like I was breathing through a straw, only pulling in just enough air to keep me alive but not enough to keep me from feeling faint. My legs almost gave out, and I caught myself on the edge of the kitchen counter. Tato was suddenly by my side, nudging against my thighs and looking up at me like he knew something was wrong.

“Who?” was all I could think to ask, and the word was barely audible. My voice cracked, and I could feel my heart colliding with my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest.

Understanding my one-word question without any other context, Detective Wilcrest said, “We aren’t sure.”

And that was when I stopped listening. Better yet, I could no longer hear him. I dropped my phone, and I didn’t care where it landed. There was a ringing in my ears, and the edge of my vision was going hazy and black. I gritted my teeth and braced my hand against my chest.

No, I thought.No, no, no.

This wasn’t happening. None of it. I’d made it this far, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t…I shook my head and fought the urge to collapse onto the floor. I wouldn’t let the panic win; I couldn’t lethimwin. I didn’t even know who he was anymore, but the control he had over me, I wouldn’t let it happen again.

Panic and fear welled up inside me, but beneath it was bitter frustration and indignation. I tried to home in on the latter. The anger that made my skin heat and my heart thump a furious rhythm was so much easier to grasp. The panic only managed to slip through my fingers. It was intangible and unreal and wholly unhelpful.

So, I focused on those emotions and grabbed my phone from where it had fallen.

On unsteady legs, I strode into my bedroom and stood in the doorway, blinking a few times before I walked into my closet. I didn’t worry about turning on the light, instead using the sunlight streaming in from the sliding glass doors on the opposite side of the room.

I stared blankly at my dresser. Glancing between the drawers, I couldn’t remember which one held the clothes I was trying to find. I couldn’t remember what clothes I was trying to locate either. I couldn’t remember how to move my hands or open said drawer once I found it.

My phone vibrating in my hand pulled me from the vicious thought cycle. I looked at it, and my mom’s name scrolled across the screen for the first time since I left their house so many months ago.

I knew it was a bad idea when I did it, but I answered anyway. I put the phone to my ear. No words came out of my mouth. I couldn’t force them even if I wanted to. I’d lost control of my tongue and forgotten how to constrict the muscles of my throat to make the proper sounds.

“Blakely?” my mom’s voice asked sharply into my ear. She said my name again, and when I still didn’t answer, she sighed. “At least grunt or something so I know you’re listening.”

I tried to clear my throat, but the sound that fell from my lips sounded more like an animal in pain.

“Great, okay,” my mom said, happy enough with my lack ofresponse. “I just wanted to make sure you heard from Detective Wilcrest about the update on your case. I would just like to say for the record that I told them when they arrested Nick Hammond that I knew he wasn’t the mastermind—he’s an idiot and doesn’t have the ability to solve a basic math problem, let alone stage a cross-state kidnapping.”

The words flooded out of her mouth at a speed that was hard for me to comprehend in my state. “Anyway, your dad and I think you should come back here. I’m sure you’re already on the verge of losing it, and we can’t have that right now. This is a big year for me, so why don’t you come back homebeforeyou have another…episode.”

Episode. I’d tried to block that from my memory. It wasn’t a mental health crisis; it was anepisode.I was being dramatic. Because I could stop it. Because I could control it. I was just weak-minded and foolish. And it had been over a year and a half since I’d been in that basement—I should be over it by now.

All the things my mother ever told me echoed through my mind.

Before I knew what I was doing, I hung up the phone. I didn’t say a word or acknowledge her in any way. My back hit the dresser, and I slipped down until I was sitting on the floor with my knees pressed to my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tato lying down in the doorway to the closet and rest his head on his paws. I stared at the clothes hanging in front of me and tried to focus on the carpet beneath me.

I stared and stared, and I tried to breathe, but nothing felt real anymore. All the anger and panic and frustration that were on the verge of boiling over were suddenly gone.

And there was just…nothing.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Devon

The sun had barely crestedthe horizon when I pulled into a parking spot next to Blakely’s car.

I’d texted her the night before—twice—and never heard back. Then I’d woken up early that morning, or finally decided to get out of bed since waking up would require sleeping, and texted again.

And rather than wait for a response, I found an excuse to drive over to her place.

Maybe I’d lost my fucking mind, but my gut was telling me Blakely wasn’t just shutting me out. She wouldn’t do that. If she didn’t want this—us—she would’ve just told me.

So, I gritted my teeth and grabbed the two barstools I’d finished late the night before from the trunk of my car. My eyes scanned the front of her townhome, but nothing appeared out of place.

I stepped up onto her small front porch and set the stools next to the doormat. I glanced at the window next to her front door, but the blinds were closed tight, and there wasn’t a chanceof seeing in.

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