Page 145 of Pieces of Her (Andrea Oliver 1)

Jane knew the panic that came from not being able to breathe. Nick had strangled her before. Once during sex. Once the last time she was pregnant. Once a few hours ago, when he was threatening to kill her. No matter how many times it happened, there was no way to prepare for that terrifying sensation of not being able to pull air into your lungs. The way her heart felt like it was filling with blood. The searing pain from her muscles cramping. The burning in her lungs. The numbness in her hands and feet as the body gave up on everything but staying alive.

Jane could not let her brother experience that terror. Not for one minute, certainly not for eight.

She told Paula, “The doctors can knock him out so that he’s unconscious for the worst of it.”

“Maybe he wants to be conscious,” she said. “Maybe he wants to feel it.”

“You sound like Nick.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t,” Jane said. “It’s meant to make you think about what you’re doing, because it’s wrong. All of this is wrong.”

“The concept of right and wrong are patriarchal constructs to control the populace.”

Jane turned her head to look at the woman. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re too fucking blind to see it. At least now you are.” Paula had picked up a knife. She chopped brutally at a bundle of carrots. “I heard you with him in the van. All that loveydovey bullshit, telling Nick how wonderful he is, how much you love him, how you believe in what we’re doing, and then you get here and suddenly you’re abandoning him.”

“Did you hear him in the bathroom, strangling me into unconsciousness?”

“I could happily hear that every day for the rest of my life.”

A piece of carrot landed on the floor beside Jane.

If Jane stood up, if she took one small step, she could close the distance between them. She could grab the knife from Paula’s hand, wrench the gun from her waist.

And then what?

Could Jane kill her? There was a difference between despising someone and murdering them.

Paula said, “It happened before Berlin, right?” She motioned down at her own stomach with the knife. “I thought you were getting fat, but—” She blew out air between her lips. “No such luck.”

Jane looked down at her stomach. She had been so nervous about telling people about the baby, but everyone seemed to have figured it out on their own.

Paula said, “You don’t deserve to carry his child.”

Jane watched the knife move up and down. Paula wasn’t paying attention to Jane.

Stand up, take one step, grab the knife—

“If it was up to me, I’d cut it out of you.” Paula pointed the blade at Jane. “Want me to?”

Jane tried to pretend that the threat had not sent an arrow into her heart. She had to think about her child. This wasn’t just about Andrew. If she attacked Paula and failed, then she could lose her baby before she even had the chance to hold it.

“That’s what I thought.” Paula turned back to the carrots with a grin on her face.

Jane tucked her chin to her chest. She had never been good at confrontation. Her way was to remain silent and hope that the explosion would pass. That was what she had always done with her father. That’s what she did with Nick.

She looked at the bundle of Polaroids on the table. The photo on top showed the deep gash in her leg. Jane touched her leg in that same spot now, feeling the ridge of the pink scar.

Bite mark.

She remembered clearly when the pictures had been taken. Jane and Nick were staying in Palm Springs while Jane’s cuts and bruises healed. Nick had gone out for lunch and returned with the camera and instant film.

I’m sorry, my darling, I know you’re hurting, but I’ve just had the best idea.

Back home, Andrew had been wavering about the plan. There were good reasons. Andrew didn’t want Laura Juneau to go to prison for attacking Martin with the red dye packs. He was especially conflicted about hurting Martin’s pride. Despite the beatings and the disappointments and even the awful things that Nick had uncovered while working at Queller Healthcare, Andrew still had a sliver of love for their father.