Page 131 of Unbroken

Why don’t you just?—

I cut the thought off before it took hold and swerved to the side of the road. Slamming on the brakes, I put the car in park. I removed the keys from the ignition and tossed them into the back seat.

Everything around me was spinning. I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel and breathed. It was surprising how something as innate and natural as breathing felt like the hardest task.

I kept track of each breath for a long time—several minutes at least—but then I lost count and realized my breathing had returned mostly to normal.

Raising my head, I glanced at my surroundings. I knew exactly where I’d been going. Adrenaline and betrayal and angerpropelling me forward and to him. Because he still had that hold over me. Control over my emotions and actions like only he could.

I considered that and shook my head like it would dislodge the thought.

The control he held was feeble and easily breakable. A control he only held if I let him.

Not anymore. Never again.

And suddenly, a new, unsettling wave of calm enveloped me. A plan as clear as the cloudless mid-day sky forming with each passing second, fueled only by revenge and rage. It was a terrifying combination, but not for me, forhim.

As it formed, I knew it needed to be the definitive, unequivocal end. And it would be.

He wanted me beaten and broken. But I’d never felt so whole.

FIFTY-NINE

Blakely

“I’msorry to keep you waiting,” Dr. Mann said. He shut the thick wood door behind him and gave me a tight smile. “Megan wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her home.”

“Just the two of us then,” I muttered, giving him my own tight smile. I’d taken my usual seat on the couch, closest to the door and furthest from the window that was positioned behind his mahogany desk. The blinds were partially closed, still allowing some of the sunset light in and casting shadows along the top of the desk and across the rest of the couch.

Dr. Mann sat down in his leather chair across from me. He crossed one ankle over a knee and folded his hands in his lap.

“How have you been, Blakely?”

I sighed. “Honestly, I’m tired.”

He shifted in his seat, brown eyes assessing. “Tell me more about that. Tired is an interesting word to choose.”

“We found a woman tied up in the back of Devon’s car,” I said matter-of-factly. He didn’t react, so I went on. “She looked exactly like me, down to the shape of her nose and the color of her eyes. And in all the ways we were different, he’d changedthem. He dyed her hair and drew on my tattoos with a black marker.”

Dr. Mann nodded. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you.”

“No, it wasn’t. But I also don’t think it had the desired effect either.” I set the pillow aside and crossed my legs, leaning back into the couch.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s always the ‘why’ that’s bothered me,” I began. “Why is he?—”

“Yes, we discussed this before, that you may never know the ‘why,’ as you call it. And that your mental energy is better spent elsewhere.”

I inhaled a shaky breath. “Time in that basement worked differently,” I said, staring at a photo behind Dr. Mann’s head as I did. “With the windows blacked out, there wasn’t a way to gauge if it was day or night. But I think it was about a week in, I started to wonder why. Why keep me there? I know now that Valerie was already dead. He must have had some other motivation. Hell, when I finally got out, so many people asked me if he’d ever touched me. But he didn’t. Maybe that would have made more sense.”

“Blakely—”

I shook my head and swallowed thickly. “He fed me just enough to keep me alive—those fucking peanut butter sandwiches—and gave me just enough water that my lips still split with thirst, but I wasn’t going to die from dehydration.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and I glanced at the clock on the wall. We were seven minutes into the session.

“He kept me chained to the floor, often naked, the brick wall behind me my only comfort. At least he turned on the dingy light at the bottom of the stairs every once in a while, so I could see the abysmal condition my body was in. The cuts around my ankle that scarred over so brutally, I have to wear these anklets to cover them up.” I motioned to the jewelry and was remindedof Devon’s lips brushing against the healed skin. Like he would kiss away the hurt if he could.

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