Page 13 of Broken

Am I sick?

I’ve fluttered through life, moving around like the nomad I was raised to be as an army brat, so I come across many people.

I chose a career that didn’t tie me down—I wrote a book. Found an agent. Now, I’m a bestselling author.

But if I AM sick, did I just remove myself from those who know me best? Who might have noticed my deterioration when I didn’t?

I know what I have to do, but, Father, for the first time, I’m scared.

Even as I write this letter to you, I feel them. The feathers are like silk against my lower back. They’re, ha, heavenly.

I can’t have made them up

I’ll have to be brave, I suppose. As brave as I was the night I showed them to Linda. Only, that went downhill so fast I still feel whiplashed.

One moment she’d been pacing back and forth in my apartment, here in Chicago, anxiously muttering abouthow her lawyer husband had warned her he could get to her ANYWHERE.

The next, I showed her my wings to calm her down. I wanted her to know that she was safe, that we were on this path together.

That was when she fled from me. More scared of me than him.

And he killed her.

I want to

I have to go. My head is aching terribly. If ever there was a silent nudge to go to the doctor’s, I suppose this is it.

Iwillbe brave, but I hope this isn’t the last letter I write to you,

Andrea Jura

CHAPTER 8

From the hospital bed of Andrea Jura

MONTEREY COUNTY, CALIFORNIA

NINE WEEKS LATER

Dear Father Savio,

I might die tomorrow.

I have emergency surgery scheduled to have my wings cut off.

Well, that’s not what they’re saying.

They’re targeting a cyst that’s making me see things. Allegedly. I still call BS. But I wanted you to know just in case you never receive another letter from me.

I also needed you to know that you’re the reason I’m going to fight to survive.

I saw yet another article about you with an updated picture. I knew they broke you—how could anyone endurewhat you did and not be broken? But it’s worse than that now.

I can see the fractures in your soul as if your pupils were bleeding into your irises.

It’s as clear to me as the sun in the sky.

I’ve Seen you, Father.

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