Page 71 of Every Broken Piece
After Gabe leaves the bathroom and closes his bedroom door, I take my turn getting ready for bed. I stare into the bathroom mirror, taking in the mess of bruises, my tangled hair that I have to brush one-handed. My “Berlin—East Side Rebel” t-shirt that’s four sizes too big and faded cactus pajama bottoms. I can’t remember the last time I brushed my teeth and now I feel gross that I’ve been talking to Gabe all this time with probably yucky breath. Ohmygod! I kissed him with yucky breath!
Who am I fooling? This person in the mirror is totally not the type of woman Gabriel Strong’s attracted to. I’m a guilt-ridden obligation to him and that’s it.
I grab my toothbrush and squirt a healthy dollop of toothpaste on it, but when I start brushing my vision dims. My heart starts racing. My hands start sweating. The toothbrush clatters into the sink because I’ve lost feeling in my hand. White paste splatters everywhere.
My stomach churns then heaves like I’m going to be sick. I hurriedly spit the toothpaste out while my knees buckle.
It’s hard to breathe. Like really hard. I can’t pull a decent breath in and spots dance in front of my eyes.
What’s happening to me?
The overpowering scent of mint makes me retch.
Sandra said you’re good for the money. Says you have it and I want it. I don’t get it and bad things happen, Theresa.
I moan as memories come in bits and pieces. His breath smelled minty, like he’d just brushed his teeth. Then he hit me. Over and over.
I sink to the floor, crab crawling backward until I’m tucked into the corner where the tub meets the wall, my legs pulled up to my chin.
“Tess?” The doorknob jiggles. I must’ve locked it, but my legs won’t move to go unlock it.
Mint.
I’m going to pass out. I’m going to throw up.
All I smell is mint.
“Tess!”
The door shudders like Gabe’s ramming his shoulder into it.
My vision goes black at the edges. I bite down on my knees to keep from passing out. From far away I hear Gabe calling my name. I hear my small whimpers.
Bad things happen, Theresa.
I close my eyes as the door splinters.
Chapter thirty-seven
Gabe
For once I’m glad the doors in this place are thin as hell. It only takes me ramming my shoulder into the flimsy piece of wood twice before the lock gives way.
My frantic gaze finds Tess curled in a ball on the floor, her chin and nose buried in knees pulled tightly to her chest. Jagged, shallow breaths sound like they’re being ripped from her.
I drop to the floor in front of her, afraid to touch her in case she’s hurt. The bathroom is too small for the two of us, yet I manage to wedge myself between her and the toilet, our knees pressed against each other.
“Spitfire, what happened? Are you hurt? Did you get dizzy?”
Wide, haunted eyes look straight through me.
“Tess. Talk to me.”
Her chin digs into her knees as she struggles to pull in a full breath.
I pry her cold, trembling hands from around her knees to rub them between mine.
“Look at me, Tess.” I use what Pax likes to call my dad voice, no nonsense, commanding, firm. Her gaze snaps to mine. “Breathe with me.” I walk her through the breathing technique we’ve done before. It takes some time before she responds, inhaling for a count of five, holding for five, exhaling for five.
