Page 38 of Break Me Beautifully
"Yes?"
"Don't ask me that anymore." He grabs the door handle, looking at it instead of me. "I'm going out of my way to protect you from things you shouldn't see. Stop trying to peek behind the curtain." He leaves without waiting for my response. I stare at where he was for a long minute. I was so happy when I entered this space with him at my side. How could that mood dissolve so damn fast?
Taking a deep breath, I fill my chest until I want to burst, then I fill it some more. "Asshole!" I shout, the word echoing on the bare walls. "Stop treating me like I'm made ofglass!" Breathing heavy, I stamp my fists onto my hips and scowl. "Fine," I say to the empty air. "Have it your way."
Dropping my jacket onto the only chair in the room—a pathetic, dented fold out metal one—I roll up my sleeves.I have work to do,I tell myself, eyeing the canvases stacked in a pile. That's why I'm here. Not to pry into Marshall Klintock's life, and definitely not to get worked up over his opinions on how I've lived until now.
Placing my phone on top of the chair, I set it to my favorite playlist. Working in the sun and open sky is my usual method, but without that, music is a close second. Thinking about my days spent in my family's garden, sketchbook on my knees, ear straining for warnings I was going to get caught and chided for wasting my time, makes me remember what Marshall said.
What does he know?I think angrily.Who is he to lecture me about running away?
I wouldn't have survived on the street. Without support, I would have ended up freezing to death in an alley. From the second we met I knew that Marshall wasn't someone easily shaken. He was bold, cocky, unafraid of what would happen next. I wasn't like him.
But I want to be.The thought makes me freeze.That's right. I forgot.I'd been intrigued by his bravery. Jealous, even. Looking at the blank canvases, I realize something.I keep insisting I'm not like him.But I could be, if I struggled like he had,
if I found the guts to try and make it on my own.
"Choose between living or dying," I whisper to myself. A rush of inspiration makes me stand tall. I grab a canvas and eagerly set it on the easel, standing back, observing the textured white surface with rising excitement.
Marshall told me to get to work.
I'm ready.
****
Idon't how long I'vebeen painting until my phone stops playing mid-song. Lifting my head, I wipe my wrist across my face to get some hair from my eyes. I set my brush down, crouching over the metal chair, frowning at my phone's dark screen. I poke it to make sure.Dead battery. What time is it?Scanning the overhead window lets me see the bruise-blue sky. Did I seriously not notice the sun setting?
Cracking my back with a groan, I scoop on my jacket, stuffing my useless phone safely into a pocket. It clicks on top of the keys.I guess I should head back to Marshall's place. Where is he, anyway?He'd told me he'd be back. Something was keeping him busy.
I nudge the door open, gasping at the blast of icy wind. "Jesus, it's cold," I whisper, my breath creating translucent clouds inches from my lips. Clenching my teeth, I hug myself tight to try and keep my body heat from escaping.At least it's not a long walk back to the condo.
Locking the door behind me, I glance side to side. The street is quiet, the lights perched on tall poles flickering with orange hues. The buildings are dark and dead. This section seems so different at night, much more ominous. Something clatters down the alley beside me. I stumble backwards, staring into the pitch black in distress.Probably a cat or something,I assure myself. When I visited New York City as a kid, I never went anywhere alone. I was always surrounded by my chattering siblings, or the hawk-like eyes of my parents. Back then I'd wished for freedom, holding a childish fantasy that I could slip away and meet someone new and interesting, like someone from the books I devoured.
Reality is never so charming. I slip my sneakers backwards on the sidewalk, making my way towards the distant corner that will take me onto the block where Marshall's place is. If I can just see the building, I'll feel safer.
"Hold up, cutie," a sing-song voice comes at me from behind. Electric signals of warning shoot through my veins. I start to run without looking to see who's speaking. I don't get far before another figure steps out from the overhang of the building in front of me.
It's dark, but I see his gap-toothed grin, like some horrific Cheshire cat. I pull up short before running into him. "Slow down, where you off to?" he asks with a scratchy laugh.
"Stay away!" I shout, right before a set of hands cover my mouth from over my shoulders; the first man caught up to me. I'm sandwiched between the strangers, struggling to get free as my terror grows.
"Calm down, calm down," the gap-toothed man says sweetly. He looks over my head. "Stop fighting my friend so hard."
"She's strong, Cap," the man grasping me tightly says, grunting. I slam my elbow into his ribs, but he just laughs, tangling my hair in his fist, then throwing me sideways into the alley.
I land hard on my hands and knees. Coughing, sucking in air, I don't waste time screaming. I bolt forward into the shadows.Run, go, get away!It's all I can focus on as my instincts force me to move. Briefly I flare with hope, thinking I'm quicker than they predicted and that's why they haven't grabbed me again.
In front of me is a brick wall. I skid to a halt, scraping at the rough, dirty surface until my hands are numb. There's laughter again and it echoes around me. "Where you think you're going?" Cap asks.
Shaking in my bones, I slowly turn, eyeing the pair as they block the exit from the alley. There's enough light radiating from the skyscrapers above to let me see the faces of my attackers. The gap-toothed man, Cap, is the biggest, his maroon sweater hanging loose on his body, but not camouflaging his broad muscles and thick neck.
The second man smirks at me as he gets closer. He's wearing all black, which is why I didn't see him in the depths of the alley earlier. "Cap and I just want your wallet," he says.
"That's right. Harlow and I aren't gonna hurt you. Just give us what you have in your purse and pockets."
I will my teeth to stop chattering. "That's really all you want?"
"Do we look like we'd lie to you, honey?" Harlow asks.
