Chapter 81

“Yes, I can.” But I can’t say it, because a lump rises in my throat, the room turns gray, and the floor seems to slope, as if it wants to let those awful memories roll back over me as they slide toward me.

“We have to talk, Gabriela. We need to.” His voice seems far away, just noise that has nothing to do with me. And I don’t want to hear it.

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

I’m not sure if I say it out loud or only shout it in my head. But somehow I manage to press the end key before the phone slips from my hand. My legs give out and suddenly I’m on the floor, hugging my knees. I close my eyes and rock against the panic and the memories that threaten to consume me.

I hate this—this terror. The feeling of being lost. Of losing control.

Of being catapulted without warning into the terrain of pain and memory.

If I’d known it was him, I could have prepared. I could have steeled myself.

Could I? Would I? Or would I just have hidden from his