Page 103 of All My Broken Pieces

I blink at her, my mind a confusing blend of the sweet, loving partner I’ve known for years and the cold-blooded, psychopathmurderer I witnessed less than twenty-four hours ago. “I can still feel them.” I mumble, pulling my knees up against my chest.

I can vaguely hear the sounds of other patrons around us, probably wondering what’s the matter with the poor American girl. But I don’t know what they’re saying, so maybe it has nothing to do with me. Maybe they could care less about my mental break.

They’re probably used to tourists getting sloshed and losing their shit. Not like we have a great reputation of being a level-headed group of people.

I giggle at the thought, drawing more unwanted attention.

Arriana watches me quietly as I flow through the gambit of emotions. Once my fit of inappropriate laughter subsides, she reaches out, hesitating before touching me. I stare at her hand, wanting to feel the comfort I once felt at her touch.

Can I ever feel that again?

A wave of nausea rolls through me at the memory of her hands covered in the blood of my assailants. But with the liquor surging through my system, I find that the nausea isn’t from the blood, it’s from who the blood belonged to.

I blink, surprised at the realization. Shifting my gaze toward Arriana, I study her closely, looking for any hint she’s different for having murdered two people. But, as I study her, I realize that she had to have done this before. “You’re a murderer.” I breathe.

Arriana’s eyes dart around us, before she presses her finger to her lips. “Not here.” She whispers, reaching a hand out to help me up.

I stare at her hand before slipping mine into hers, allowing her to pull me to my feet. We stumble back to our car. I’m grateful for her help as I try to walk on wobbly legs, finding the task nearly impossible.

Arriana helps me round the vehicle, opening the door and lifting me into my seat. My mind wars against itself once more, trying to marry the gentle touch with the murderous violence I witnessed.

She closes the door and quickly crosses the SUV before climbing into her seat and turning to face me. Before I can say anything, she releases a heavy breath and blurts out, “Yes, I’m a murderer. The two men you saw me kill last night were not my first. Far from it.” She lets out a small chuckle, quickly schooling her features at the look on my face. “I know it’s a lot to take in, baby. But I’ve been doing this a long time. Long before we met.”

Before we met?

I can’t voice the question out loud, but she can read it on my face. “Yeah, before we met. The first man I killed was in a situation similar to what happened last night. Only Andrew was the one who came to my rescue, and he let me take my own revenge on the man.” My eyes widen at Andrew’s name.

Wait, if they’re both killers…

“From there, he introduced me toCharles.” I flinch at his name, remembering all I endured thanks to that man. My sluggish brain works to piece together the connections, to catch up to the story she is painting. “He brought me in on his business. Hitman. Or, I guess in my case, hitwoman.” She waits for me to process what she’s said before continuing. Taking another deep breath, she says, “That’s where I met Killian.”

“Wait.” I snap, shooting upright. “Killian? Like Ava’s Killian?” My heart thunders in my chest and I think I’m going to be sick. Arriana inclines her head and the bile threatening to escape makes its way up my throat. I barely get the door open in time before chunks spew from my mouth, my body shaking violently.

I need to warn Ava. I need to get her away. I need…

My mind replays the joy on her face when she walked down the aisle. The gentle care he’s shown her the entire time I’ve known them with the exception of that one night. The growth and healing she’s had since meeting him.

I can’t ruin that for her.

Sitting upright, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, leaning back in my seat and breathing heavily.

“Are you okay?” Arriana asks, her tone full of worry.

I bark a laugh, rolling my head in her direction. “Am I alright?” I echo, snorting at the ridiculous concept. “Well, let’s see. My girlfriend killed two men in front of me. Then, come to find out, she’s always been this murderous psycho,” Arriana flinches at the term and my heart aches, but I can’t stop the word vomit anymore than I could stop the physical vomit moments ago.

“And not only isshea murderer, apparently all of her friends, or sorry,business partnersare also killers. And what’s worse? My best friend is married to one. With no clue. And she’s a wholefucking countryaway from me. So, what am I going to do if her husband goes all ballistic one day and decides to off her? Nothing. I can’t fucking doanything.” My chest heaves as I finish, my fingers clenched in tight fists.

Arriana studies me for a moment before asking, “Is that all?”

I roll my head toward her. “Is that all?” I repeat, certain I must have heard her wrong. When she doesn’t correct me, I laugh again, giggles bubbling up and uncontrollably breaking free. “Why? Is there something I’m missing?”

“You were assaulted, baby.” Her words are a slap in the face. I immediately sober up, sitting up straighter. “All the other stuff, I understand and I can do my best to explain, if you’ll let me. But, I need to know you’re alright.”

I gulp, wrapping my arms around my chest. “I’m fine.” I mumble, but even I can hear the lie.

“It’s okay to not be okay. But you can’t keep it bottled up.Talkto me. Let me take some of the pain for you.” Arriana’s pleading voice pulls at me, breaking down the flimsy walls I’ve built up between us.

“It…it wasn’t the first time.” I admit, shame filling me at the memories. “I should have known better, shouldn’t have been stupid enough to have this happen to meagain. I knew what could happen if I went out alone in the dark, and I did it anyway. I-I shouldn’t—” My voice cracks, body shaking violently as my mind replays the assaults, all of them blending in a disturbing replay of my stupidity.

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