Page 88 of Reckless Woman
“What operation did I have, Joseph?” I say quietly.
“Anna—”
“Tell me.”
He drops his head between his shoulders, and I bite down hard on my lower lip until my mouth is filled with metal. I don’t want his confirmation. I need to wallow in my ignorance, but he’s already detailing how much of a life-saving decision it was.
No choice.
Made in the operating room.
We’ll get through this.
Will I?
In the silence that follows, I feel more damaged by life than I ever have. More so, than when the Bratva raped me and beat me and locked me in a cage. This time, my nemesis is an empty space who’s intent on assaulting my future, over and over. She’s lodged herself deep inside me, beneath all the tubes and the scars and the bandages, and they’ll never be an escape.
Bad news comes in waves, I reflect weakly, hitting the pain-killer button and waiting for my head to swim. This is the initial earthquake—the one that tips my life upside down and sends me crashing in a new direction. It’s the shockwaves that will really hurt, and I’ve got those to look forward to until the day I die.
I will never hold a baby of my own.
I will never hear her laugh, or cry.
I will never forget to pack her favorite snack for school.
I will never dry her tears when some snobby Fifth Grade bitch doesn’t invite her to a princess party.
“Go,” I whisper.
“Anna—”
But I’ve already turned my head away.
I don’t want to see his pain anymore.
I only want to see mine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joseph
I’m used to analogies of brick walls. I fucking inspired most of them.
Sometimes when I’m torturing an enemy—when he’s taking longer that I’d hoped to break—I’ll run through a few of my favorites in my head and donate one as a parting shot.
That’s because I haven’t met a man who I haven’t broken yet.
I take my time. I home in on the stuff that causes a reaction, no matter how small—be it a muscle twitch or facial spasm—and then I double-down on my efforts until they’re crumbling and crying out for my mercy.
One hour.
One day.
One month.
It doesn’t matter how long it takes. When I set my mind to something, it turns into a compulsion I can’t stop.
It’s the same with fixing Anna, but I’m messing it up somehow. I tortured her with the truth, I held her as she cried, but now her walls are ten feet high and growing.