Page 43 of Break Me
Eleven
I didn’t meanto walk in on them.
I just hadn’t heard her in nearly half an hour, and her dad wasn’t back, and I wanted to make sure she was okay because I’m insufferable.
I pushed open the door that was ajar and saw her in her mother’s room. Her parents’ room, I guessed. I saw her mom clinging to her daughter for dear life, and I saw Ava’s eyes closed, her breathing even. Her mom was still awake, but she didn’t see me. Part of me wanted to walk in, introduce myself. Tell her I would take care of her daughter, at least for now.
But that would have been an incredibly stupid thing to do, not least of all because it probably isn’t true. So I went back to her bedroom instead.
It’s the middle of the night and I’m still here, and Ava still isn’t.
The feeding tube in her mother’s nose reminded, though, very clearly of why what we’re doing is the height of stupidity. Or rather, what I’m doing, barging into her life, making her think maybe I care for some reason.
If she only knew what I’d done…if she only knew what that feeding tube reminded me of…
But it doesn’t matter.
I scrub my hand over my face and turn over in Ava’s big bed, watching the door. I shut and locked it, as was the plan. She’s to knock four times when she comes back in. If she comes back in.
Pretty soon, from the looks of it, she’s going to be without a mom.
I know that feeling.
My adoptive mom gave me all the things I needed in life, save for love. Her and my dad tried, I really believe that. They were never able to have kids, and they thought adopting was going to complete their lives or something. But they got a snot-nosed loudmouth, quick tempered boy who had watched his father abuse his mom most of his short life, instead of the golden boy they probably wanted.
And then when I ended up in prison, well, that was just the sign they needed to cut me off, like they’d always wanted to do.
No more forced family meals, awkward phone calls, pretending to feel something we didn’t.
But Ava’s family doesn’t seem like that. From the pictures of her and her parents on her dresser to the fact she’s curled up asleep with her mom right now, and that she flunked an entire semester of school for partying and it doesn’t seem to have worn down their relationship too badly, if at all.
Ava’s family is different.
We’re different. It’s why as soon as Rolland Virani is six feet under, I’ve got to get my ass back to Toronto and Ava Culwen off of my mind. I don’t love her or anything crazy like that. Hell, I just met her.
But a girl like that…
I could love her.
And that’s something I promised I’d never do again. Not after Bianca.
Just like that, her face springs into my mind and I close my eyes, counting to ten, letting myself walk up those steps again, letting myself sink down in front of the bathtub with her swollen nose and her black eyes and the bruises forming on her neck.
And then I cut it off, and like a switch, she’s out of my head.
Where she’ll stay. And I won’t ever let anyone else get in there like that again.
