Break Me

Socks and Boots jump off my lap.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” I say to them as I crawl to the window next to the door and peek out.

Green eyes meet mine, and I instantly feel ease wash over me.

I unlock and open the door for Jason, who walks in with a toolbox and a bag. He is dressed in gray sweatpants and a black, sleeveless shirt, and he has a black baseball cap on backward. He looks every bit as strong as he did when he left, maybe even more so.

“I’m gonna fix this quickly. It shouldn’t take long, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” I know by the look in his eyes he sees the fear inside of me. “I can’t stay again.”

I nod rapidly. “I know.”

“You are off for a couple days. It was in your discharge papers from the doctor. Get this fucking place on the market. You need to move on,” he says as he walks by, setting the bag by the door where the alarm wires were cut.

I watch as he works quickly, as if he has done this a hundred times before, and maybe he has. He is a mystery to me, a beautiful, strong conundrum of anger, attitude, and angst. I want to know more about him, but I know he doesn’t want me to. I can’t blame him. I am tainted and tormented by one horrible day. April 20, the day hell erupted from the depths and was no longer just a frightening story to scare a child into behaving. It became a reality, one I face every day.

I start to feel my body on the verge of shaking and trembling. I can’t let this happen. Not in front of him. Not when I want him to stay.

Anxiety drowns rationality, and I scurry into the kitchen where I feed the cats first then quickly start to make two sandwiches, just to keep him here for a little while longer.

“I’m all set,” he says from behind me.

I turn around and hold up the plate. “It’s a thank-you.”

He closes his eyes, and I immediately feel let down, rejected.

“Can I get it to go?” he asks with a forced, airless tone.

“Of course.” I turn around and open the cupboard with parchment paper and cling film. I lay it out and wrap it in the paper, folding it into an envelope like I did when I was younger and worked at the sandwich shop on weekends.

I liked having my own money. Heidi had Ryan, and they spent all of their free time together. He showered her with gifts and affection. I didn’t have time for boys. I wanted to work to buy the things I wanted, the things Ryan gave her that my parents thought were extravagant indulgences. Things a middle-class family couldn’t afford.

At work, I met friends. I loved talking with the customers and got to know the regulars and what they would order. I also met a boy. The first night I agreed to meet Stephen after work was the night I was late.

Emotions creep up in my throat, but I force them back as I wrap the cling film around the turkey and provolone sandwich on rye bread.

When I turn around, I force a smile, and he looks back and forth between my eyes and forces his own smile. I’m pretty sure it’s the first time he has smiled at me. His teeth are perfect, straight and white. They don’t match the rest of his rough exterior.

“You got a bag?” he asks.

“Of course.” I know there is too much excitement in the response, because his shoulders automatically slouch in some sort of defeat.

I open the cupboard and push up on my toes to reach the brown paper bags I haven’t ever used but know are in here.

I feel his body heat behind me as he leans close and reaches up to grab them.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He takes in a deep breath, and I look over my shoulder at his eyes looking down at me.

His voice is thick and gruff when he replies, “No problem.”

He doesn’t move. I am sure that him staring at my lips means he is going to kiss me. I close my eyes, waiting, wanting, expecting . . .

I feel his hot breath come closer and closer, and my body becomes tingly as heat rises from my toes up to my belly, intensifying the sensation.

A knock at the door causes me to jump. In doing so, my head hits his jaw. He groans.

“I’m so sorry.” I turn quickly. He doesn’t move, and I feel his erection against my stomach.

I quickly look up at him, and he takes a step back, rubbing his hand back and forth over his hat, before he walks to the door.

“Wait, don’t open it!” I panic as I peek around the doorway to see if he listens.