On Broken Wings Read Online Free PDF

breath.
    While he lived.
    ***
    Christine awoke in the all-at-once, thrown-switch fashion characteristic of combat soldiers and very young children. She was used to it, and to awakening already in street clothes. She was not used to awakening alone in a clean, nicely-appointed room with a closed door, nor on a conventional bed, nor covered with a peach blanket. It took a moment before the disorientation passed and the events of the previous day returned to her.
    I'm free.
    And immediately after:
    He knows.
    The exultation of the first thought collided with the shame and humiliation of the second. Against all rational expectation, a rescuer had appeared when she needed one most. Against all good sense, she had spilled her guts to him.
    What kind of greeting awaited her beyond the bedroom door? Had her story frightened him enough, or revolted him enough, to thrust her out of his home? Or had she unwittingly persuaded him to think of her as his property?
    What does it matter? Could anything be worse than what he saved you from? If he were to turn you out on the spot, would you go looking for the Butchers? If he were to rape you every night, would you run back to Tiny's loving arms?
    The Nag was still there, still relentlessly sensible, still unwilling to let her do what she had wanted to do for so long: give up and wallow in her despair. There had been days she hated the Nag even more than she hated Tiny. But whatever it was, it would not go away.
    When the muffled thuds that permeated the house pierced her introversion, her fear returned in full strength. Something violent was happening below. The proximity of violence of any kind had always had unpleasant consequences for her. For a moment she lay motionless.
    Get moving. Go to meet it. There'll be no good in waiting for it to come to you, whatever it is.
    The sounds of impact stopped. She threw the blanket aside and sat up. She was still fully clothed. He had not even removed the sneakers he had given her. She went to the door and eased it open.
    Had anyone asked her that day whether it was harder to tip the bike and kill Tex or to descend the stairs of that unfamiliar house, she would have chosen the latter.
    ***
    Louis stripped off his sodden T-shirt and toweled off. With the shirt wadded under one arm, he strode up the stairs two at a time and stepped through the door to his kitchen just as Christine entered it. Her face tightened, the sudden rush of blood making her scars even more livid, and he realized that he was nearly naked.
    "Excuse me." He turned aside and made for his bedroom. He returned to the kitchen in his bathrobe, to find her sitting motionless at his kitchen table. Not knowing what else to do, he made coffee. She sat in silence.
    "Milk? Sugar?"
    "What?"
    "In your coffee, Chris. Do you take milk or sugar?"
    She shook her head.
    He set a mug down before her and filled it. She stared at the mug without touching it, as if it held some secret of transcendental importance. He poured a mug of his own and sat down across from her. Her hands wrapped themselves around the mug, but she did not raise it to drink.
    "Did you sleep well?"
    She stared at the mug and said nothing.
    "Chris, are you all right?"
    Still nothing.
    "Christine, answer me. "
    At the sound of his command voice, her eyes jerked upward to meet his. It never failed. He could have blessed Malcolm for teaching it to him.
    "What are you going to do with me?"
    He was trying to frame a reply when she spoke again.
    "I owe you big time, and I know it. Just tell me what you want so I can get it over with."
    It was the little girl's voice, the one that combined equal parts defiance and pain. He cringed inside at the sound of it. It was some moments before he could proceed with what he had planned to say.
    "I have an errand to run this morning, but I should be back before noon. After that, I want you to meet a friend, a very good friend. He's a smart man, and I think you should talk to him. A little grocery