Page 212 of Broken Saint

“I’m sorry,” I whisper so quietly my apology is barely audible.

“Oh Ella, you have nothing to apologize for.”

My argument balances on the tip of my tongue, but I manage to swallow it down.

“But there is something I need you to do for me,” she confesses, pushing to her feet and rolling her shoulders back as if she’s preparing for battle.

To be fair, she might be.

I already know I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to demand of me.

I stare at her, waiting for her to say the words I fear.

Her chest expands as she sucks in a deep breath.

“You’re going to shower and put some real clothes on, and then we’re going to the store.”

Fear rips through me.

“N-no. I-I can’t.” I curl myself into a ball, one that I can only hope is small enough that she’ll no longer see me. Wishful thinking, but it’s all I’ve got at this point.

“Ella,” she soothes, reaching for my hands and tugging until I have little choice but to sit up. “You can. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but life has to go on, and we need food.”

“I don’t need anything.”

One of her brows lifts and she gives me her best warning glare. It’s enough to make my stomach knot like it used to when I was a little kid who’d made a bad decision.

“We need food,” she repeats, making me attempt to swallow the messy lump of emotion clogging my throat.

I’ve been eating, although not a lot. And I think Mom knows as well as I do that I wouldn’t have been if she wasn’t basically force-feeding me.

What’s the point when my life has gone to hell in a hand basket?

Releasing my hands, she backs up and disappears into the bathroom.

The sound of the shower running hits my ears before steam begins to billow out.

“Come on, Ella. Before we use all the hot water.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I let my head hang back and close my eyes.

You can do this, Ella.

This doesn’t have to be the end…

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push my feet to the floor and stand.

I can’t remember the last time I did, and my legs are weak and wobbly.

I stumble forward, thankfully catching myself on my dresser.

Pausing for a moment, I close my eyes and will the world to stop spinning and my legs to strengthen.

If Mom sees me like this…

I shake my head and force my eyes open.

She can’t.