Page 7 of Breaking You Open

Scoffing at the foolish remnants of kindness that urge me to go through with this, I spit out the window and start the car.

Chapter 3

Sparrow

The sudden stop ofthe car jolts me awake from my drunken haze.

“We’re here,” a voice grumbles.

Where’s here? And whose voice is that? How did I get here again? Right…Eric was about to…And then this huge man stopped him…The biker…The one who was laughing at me before…What was his name again? Louis. A kind name. A good name.

“Go on, get out of the car,” he says. “Or do you need help with that?”

I can’t tell if his question is serious or not.

“Need me to carry you?” he adds, and again I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or simply trying to help.

“N-No,” I say. “I can walk.”

Louis leads me out of the car and into an apartment on the first floor. The sudden bright light in the hallway hurts my eyes, and with the hurt comes a new wave of nausea.

“Feel sick,” I whine.

“Come here.” Louis herds me into the bathroom, and he barely has time to open the lid before I throw myself over the toilet and barf the contents of my stomach into the bowl.

If I felt embarrassed before, it’s nothing compared to this. I don’t even know the guy, yet here I am puking into his toilet.

“There you go.” He gathers my hair in one hand while he strokes my back with the other. “Let it all out.”

Tears push past my eyes along with the vomit, and another wave of nausea crowds the embarrassment away. I puke until nothing but bile comes up. I puke until I feel like my eyes are going to bulge out of their sockets. I didn’t have much to eat today, but there’s still somehow a lot of stuff that wants to come out of me.

“Who gave you this much to drink?” Louis asks.

“Eric,” I say miserably. “His name was Eric.”

Louis swears under his breath. Seems like he does that a lot.

“Is he bad?” I ask.

Louis raises an eyebrow at me and wipes my mouth with a towel. “Yeah, he’s bad. Stay away from him.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Feeling all right now? I don’t think much more can come out of you,” he adds with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m all right.” I do feel better actually; now I just feel miserable and cold.

“Your shirt got dirty. Let’s take it off.”

I raise my arms and allow him to pull off my shirt. Wrapping my arms around my skinny torso, I watch him as he puts the tap on in the bathtub.

Wait … Bathtub … I’m not ready …

“It’ll feel nice to wet your face after that much puking,” Louis explains. “Don’t worry.”

But Idoworry.

“Come on.” He waits patiently as I shiver. “Why are you shaking? It’s not that cold.”

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