Page 80 of Edge of Unbroken

I frown at her. “You’re always so damn forward, Randi.”

She grins. “And you’ve always loved me for it.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Just tell me what you were dreaming,” she says. Clearly this isn’t up for negotiation.

“I dream the same shit every time; it’s always about the last time… the last time my mother beat me.” I scoot back to lean against my headboard like Miranda.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

"Do I look like I want to talk about it?"

“Not really, but I think you should.”

“Do you now.”

“I do. Do you talk to your feline about what your mother did to you?” she asks, smirking.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it. With anyone. Ever.”

“You have to, Rony, otherwise it’ll slowly erode your insides. It will eat away at you like acid. It just… festers.”

I frown. “You sound like my therapist.”

“You have a therapist?”

“Yep. Fun, right? Comes with the trauma survivor starter kit.”

She chuckles wryly. “Nice, how do I get one of those?”

I shrug. “Not sure. I guess seventeen years of abuse culminating in twenty-six broken bones, a ruptured spleen, and a week in a coma will get you that. Maybe.”

“Sheesh, what the hell was your mom so pissed off about?”

“My existence, probably. Who the fuck knows anymore. I could never figure it out,” I say with another shrug.

“See, you’re talking about it. Sort of. You should open up more about it. It helps.”

“Do you talk about the shit your dad does to you?” I challenge.

She gives me a one-shouldered shrug. “Sometimes.”

“And how does that feel?”

“It sucks in the moment, but afterwards I always feel a little bit lighter.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. “What happened two nights ago?”

Now she frowns at me. “Always so damn forward, Rony.”

“Just answer my question.”

Her eyes briefly graze over my bare chest before she refocuses. “I already told you: my dad kicked me out.”

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