Page 68 of Edge of Unbroken

“I got your back. Get better, okay? Remember: no checking out on me!” he says, keeping his voice light, but I hear the sincerity in his tone.

“I’m trying.”

Saturday, January 15th

Cat

“I need you both to sit down,” my dad says through the speaker of my mom’s phone at breakfast this morning.

My mom and I were about to sit at the small kitchen table together. The smell of the freshly brewed coffee lingered lazily in the air and the chocolate croissants were still warm when my dad called.

My parents talk several times a day, catching each other up on the day and the various goings-on of their three kids. So his call, in and of itself, is not a reason for concern. His voice, though—tight like a stretched rubber band—causes the soles of my feet to prick with anxiety and my heart to plummet into my stomach as though I’m on one of those sudden-drop rides at the carnival. Something is wrong, and I have a pretty good inkling it has to do with Adam.

“We’re sitting,” my mom tells him tersely, her eyes glued to me, observant, watchful. “What happened?”

“The sheriff is looking for Adam,” my dad says. “I don’t have too much info, just what Carson was able to share with me this morning.”

I assume the Carson my dad is talking about is Carson Clements. He’s a good friend of my parents’ and a sheriff’s deputy in my small North Carolina hometown. He was also the deputy who reported to my home the night of Adam’s last act of violence against me, when the bruises on my throat were only just beginning to appear, but my eye was already swollen from where Adam had punched me. Deputy Clements was one of the few people to remain steadfastly on my and my family’s side after Adam was kicked off the football team, lost his scholarship to Duke, and was sentenced to six months’ probation for assaulting me the night of my high school’s winter formal not quite a year ago.

“Remember the girl I told you about?” my dad asks. “The girl who I thought was Adam’s new girlfriend?”

“Yes?” my mom answers.

“Adam put her in the hospital last night. Carson kept using the wordallegedly, but I have no doubt about it.”

“Oh my god, what happened?” The words tumble out of my mom’s mouth as her back goes ramrod straight.

“Carson said Adam and this girl—her name is Annalise—were at some party last night. I guess they got into a fight. Adam beat her up so badly they needed to airlift her to Durham to perform emergency brain surgery and relieve the pressure in her skull.”

My mom gasps loudly, the sound reverberating off the walls of our small kitchen, while I clasp both my hands over my mouth, my eyes wide as they lock on my mom.

“She’s apparently in the ICU on a ventilator. There were a ton of witnesses who saw what happened. He ran, though; of course that little weasel ran,” my dad spits as if the mere thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “Adam’s inbigtrouble. The sheriff tried to collect him at home early this morning, but, not surprisingly, Adam was nowhere to be found. His parents say he didn’t come home last night, but I wouldn’t put it past them to hide this prick somewhere. Anyway, the judge issued a warrant for his arrest.”

“They can’t find him?” my mom asks, worry flaring in her eyes.

“Well, they only just issued the warrant and are beginning to look for him. Listen, Kitty,” he says, garnering my already undivided attention. “I’m not saying Adam’s going to come looking for you, okay? But I want you to be vigilant nonetheless. I don’t trust this kid, and I won’t be able to sleep soundly until I know he’s behind lock and key. I just… ugh, I hate that I’m not there with the two of you…” He trails off, the frustration in his voice sharpening his words like fragments of glass. “I don’t want you to go anywhere alone, okay? I want you to listen to your mom, observe your curfew, and have your phone on you at all times. I—”

“No problem, Dad,” I say. “I promise I’ll be safe.”

“Kitty is really good about all those things, Bobby,” my mom says, giving me a tiny smile.

“I know, I know.” My dad sighs again. “I just… He’s made his way to New York before with little to no consequences.”

“But this time there’s a warrant out for his arrest. The sheriff isactuallylooking for him. It’s different from last time. I’m sure they’ll find him soon, or he’ll get picked up during a traffic stop. Bobby, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says to my dad, though she doesn’t take her eyes off me. I can tell she’s attempting to make me feel more at ease, too.

I can’t honestly say that it’s working. I know what Adam is capable of, and it suddenly hits me how close I came to being in Annalise’s shoes. There were no witnesses when Adam started hitting me the last time—we were alone in a room when he became violent. It was only when he had me by the throat, pushing me back against the dresser, and his repeated blows to my face caused the dresser to shift loudly enough that it caught people’s attention. But nobody actually saw him hit or choke me. Not that night.

There had been prior instances of Adam becoming violent, slapping and hitting me, pulling my hair, shoving me, but nobody stopped him, and nobody said anything to the cops the night of the final assault. They all kept quiet, and some even said I deserved what I got. Eventually I started to believe them, thinking that if only I hadn’t made him wait, hadn’t turned down his repeated efforts to have sex with me, hadn’t led him on, he wouldn’t have hit me all the time.

It wasn’t until Ronan told me that nothing that happened to me was my fault, that I was right to set boundaries for myself, that I began to shed the lies, began to relieve myself of the burden. Except, there were still the compromising photos Adam had…hasof me. Sure, some of them were taken without my express consent—I’m sure of it—but others? Some of the pictures sure do seem to depict me willingly exposing my breasts to Adam. The existence of these pictures haunts me still, though not as much as the fact that I continued to send nudes of myself to Adam even once Ronan and I got together. It was by no means voluntary, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thrown into the depths of guilt when I so much as think about it, especially given that I’ve never sent even one topless picture to Ronan in our seven months together, not even after we finally said “I love you” to each other.

“Maybe we should think about letting Cat have her car in the city,” my dad says, and my ears perk up. “I’d feel a lot better if she didn’t have to rely on subways when it’s dark out.”

I look to my mom hopefully.

She cocks her head to the side. “That might not be a bad idea. Kitty usually gets chauffeured around by her friends, but she has had to rely on public transportation more since Ronan left.”

“Even if he was still around, I wouldn’t trust some seventeen-year-old kid to keep my daughter safe,” my dad says gruffly, adding a chill to the already frigid energy in the room. “We’ll figure out what to do about Cat’s car. But Kitty, in the meantime please just be careful, okay? Be aware of your surroundings and, more importantly, say something if things feel off, okay? The last thing I want is for you to ignore that gut feeling of yours like you did in the past. No more secrets!”

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