Page 218 of Broken Saint
“Because I feel sorry for you, you’ve got until the end of the month. But if I don’t have five grand by then…well, how about we don’t go there?”
With Mom’s fingernails digging into my forearm with such a tight grip I’m sure she’s going to break my skin, she all but drags me out of the store.
The second we emerge into the sunlight, the numbness that had come over me inside vanishes; the world turns on its axis, and before I can catch myself, everything goes black.
56
ELLA
“Someone call an ambulance!”
The words float around in my fuzzy head. They don’t register for a few seconds, but the moment they do, I panic.
“No,” I cry, pressing my hands to the rough ground beneath me and pushing until I’m sitting up.
The world around me spins, but it’s not bad enough to allow them to follow Mom’s orders.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, instantly wishing it came out stronger and more convincing.
Mom's panicked eyes narrow as she studies me, searching for my lie.
“Ella,” she warns. “You need to get checked out.”
“No, I don’t.” Fighting against my weak body, I climb to my feet in an attempt to prove her wrong.
The number of eyes on me makes my skin prickle uncomfortably. I don’t want to be the focus of anyone’s attention. Especially not a bunch of people who are pitying me.
“I just need to get out of here,” I say, stumbling forward.
A couple of the women behind me gasp as if I’m about to plummet to the floor all over again, but thankfully my legs begin functioning just in time.
Every movement is harder than it should be. My muscles scream in pain with every step I take, but I refuse to let my body win.
I’m not getting in the back of an ambulance, and I’m certainly not letting anyone admit me to a hospital.
A violent tremor rips through my body at just the thought.
I can’t do that. Not again.
They’ll take one look at me, and they’ll know.
They’ll send me back into therapy. They’ll force me to talk, to try and deal with everything that’s happened in their way.
But I don’t need that.
I just need…
A sob erupts.
What I need is to not think about what I need.
I close my eyes, wishing there was another way.
I might have refused the ambulance but…if I really want to beat this, I’m going to need support.
Mom pulls the car door open and helps me climb in.
“I wish you’d?—”