“I wouldn’t.”
Head tilted to the side, she smiled. “I know you wouldn’t. Still like to remind you that you’re stuck with us every now and again though.”
If I hadn’t hurt so bad, I would’ve laughed.
Bending at the waist, Faye grasped my wrist in her hand and squeezed it tight. “Now, come on. I know your belly hurts like the dickens, just as I know your ol’ bones is rattlin’ away in your meat suit, but now is the time to make a move, withdrawal symptoms be damned.”
Her brows rose when I didn’t move.
“Get. Up.” Her scuffed white stiletto started tapping against the disgusting concrete floor in time with my hammering heart. “Or I’m gonna jerk you up myself, and then I’m gonna smack you with my shoe just like your Mamá used to.”
Her words were the fuel I needed.
Latching onto the strength I’d summoned from the pit of my stomach, I reached for the phone. But then, just when my fingers were less than an inch away, I stopped, hand freezing mid-air as my courage dissipated, quick like, and anxiety paralyzed me.
Though calling James was the first thing I wanted—no, needed—to do, it was also the last. Because calling him meant I’d have to confess the events that led to me swimming in the lake of brimstone and fire where I was currently treading water, fighting to stay afloat.
It was a task I wasn’t sure I’d be able to complete, not when the chance of him being disgusted or disappointed was high.
If he walked…
I couldn’t even think about it.
Chin wobbling, I stared at Faye as my heart twisted, ripping apart at the seams in an agonizing move that I was more than familiar with.
Not missing the hurt painting my features, she knelt back down. Putting down the phone, she released my wrist and then palmed my cheeks with her soft hands. “Robina Hood,” she whispered, fiery attitude from before nowhere to be seen. “What in the world is the matter?”
At her words, a piece of me broke.
And I mean, broke.
“What if he walks a-away?” My voice cracked on the last word, mirroring how I felt on the inside—damaged. “I relapsed, F-Faye. I broke my promise, even when I swore I wouldn’t. And El Diablo… what he did, what he took. What if Guapo—”
“Don’t you damned well dare,” she growled, interrupting me. Eyes harder than I’d ever seen them, she squeezed my face, almost to the point of pain. “That man loves you, Carmen. He. Loves. You. And when you love somebody, you love every piece of them, even the ugly bits.”
She paused.
“Especially the ugly bits.”
But that was the thing…
My bits weren’t just ugly.
They were hideous.
Grotesque even.
How could someone love those?
Tears spilled down my cheek as my starving soul latched onto each confident word she spoke. “Besides, it ain’t your fault what happened to you.”
On that point, we didn’t agree.
If I hadn’t acted so estúpido…
“But even if you had shoved that needle into your arm willingly,” she continued, ignoring my argumentative expression, “that big ol’ bear of a man wouldn’t care for you any less. Trust me, darlin’.”
Legs aching, I shifted to relieve the pain.
It was a mistake.
Razor-like shards of hurt zipped through my center and into my lower belly at the simple move, reminding me once more of the pleasure El Diablo had stolen from my unwilling body. Shame raged through me like a wildfire, burning any semblance of hope that remained in my veins to smoldering ash.
Maybe James could move past the relapse, but my body was still tainted with over sixteen years’ worth of assaults. What if confessing the most recent pushed him over the edge?
It was a fear I couldn’t handle, because if I lost him, I’d lose a giant part of my heart. And without it, how could I survive?
Simply put, I couldn’t.
“Faye, how do I tell h-him…?” Unable to hold her eyes any longer, I gazed down at the fingertip bruises that marred my inner thighs. “I can’t. Not when it may mean the end.” I was close to plummeting into the black abyss that was my battered psyche. Everything hurt. My mind. My heart. My body. I just wanted it to end. For good. “I’m so a-ashamed.”
Her hold on my face tightened even further.
This time, her palms drew pain.
“Carmen Camilla Santiago, you listen to me. That man fell ass over heels in love with you when your veins were still dirty and your body scarred from over a decade of abuse.”
I winced at her words. Though callous, she hadn’t meant them to be. I knew that. Even so, they hurt.
Horribly so.
“He didn’t care then, and he sure as shit won’t care now.” Dropping her hands from my face, she grabbed the phone and slipped it into my hand. “Now call him. Else I’m gonna do it for you.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you know he’ll fuss up a storm when he hears my voice and not yours.”
My shaking fingers circled the cell.
“Dial his number,” she demanded, standing. “’Cause time's a tickin’, baby, and we’ve gotta move.” A lone tear slid down her cheek, smearing her rogue-colored blush. “Our hell is almost over. We just gotta cross this one last bridge first.”
My lower lip trembled.
“Si? And what awaits us on the other side?”
Her ruby lips curved heavenward. “Freedom.” She wiped away the single tear that had fallen with the back of her right hand. “And for you, I suspect one big ol’ happily ever after.”
Freedom.
Happily ever after.
Her words were the fuel I needed.
I will not let terror rule me…
And I will not let the devil destroy me.
This shit-show was ending.
Shoulders squaring, I lifted the phone.
Then, fingers shaking, I placed the
