by A. L. Woods
“It was happening right under my nose the entire time and I…damn it.” I couldn’t keep it together anymore. I folded in my seat, the sob ripping free from the back of my throat. “I’m so fucking stupid.” My fingers threaded through the hair that had fallen into my face. The pain saturated my insides, each breath as fleeting as the last.
Who was I? Who was this woman who had gone years without crying and now couldn’t stop? It was like I was paying the devil his pound of flesh to compensate for it now, and he was a merciless loan shark.
The boardroom doorknob jostled, but it stopped almost immediately. I heard Dougie’s voice cut over Penelope’s, I couldn’t make out what she was saying but I caught the agitation in her tone.
“You’re not stupid.” Sean’s knees brushed against mine as he dragged his chair closer. He pulled me from my seat onto his lap. His chair wheezed under the addition of my weight, but he paid it no mind.
His scent in my nose was an emollient that softened the all-consuming ache in my chest, his arms crushing around me. I sucked back ragged breaths, his palm flattening against the small of my back, tracing comforting circles there.
“I’m so fucking sorry this happened, baby.”
But that just made me cry harder.
I was an idiot for not seeing what had always been right in front of me. “I let him—” a hiccup swallowed the rest of my words.
“Hey.” He shifted me on his lap, his hands framing my face. I averted my stare, but his fingers tightened, demanding our connection. “Don’t go there,” he warned. I couldn’t extract the thoughts from what I’d allowed Cash to do to me over the years. How could he touch me when he had touched her, too? The idea made me want to retch. “You’re not doing that to yourself on my watch, okay?”
His voice pulled me back of the dark caverns of my mind, my nod feeble. If there was a bucket inside of me that contained all of my emotions, mine was overflowing with shame, rivulets of water running over the brim. My skin felt dirty for every awful thing I had allowed to happen to me.
Cash may have been my boyfriend, but he had been with Holly Jane first. My ex-boyfriend had fucked my kid sister.
Over and over and over again.
He had conceived a child with her.
And she had lost her life trying to tell me the truth.
“Raquel,” Sean whispered.
I glanced up at him just as his mouth crushed against mine until my lips felt bruised. My tears pooled where we were fused together, but if he cared, he didn’t show it. It didn’t change the way his lips moved over mine, or the charged energy that passed between us.
He kissed me until white noise filled my brain and my body went limp on his lap.
Sean pressed his flushed forehead against mine, his lashes nearly touching his cheekbones. “You didn’t do this, baby.”
My palms flattened against his pectorals, my fingers curling. “I feel like I could have stopped it. I should have been paying attention. I was self-absorbed and—”
“You didn’t do it,” he repeated. “You can’t martyr yourself now, as if you controlled his decisions or hers.”
I drew in another breath that didn’t quite reach my lungs, then rested my head against his shoulder.
The credence of his sentiment didn’t do anything to lessen the brick that sat in my gut, but it was enough to take the edge off. He drew my legs into his lap, enveloping my body with his. I lost myself in the back and forth motions of his hand smoothing my back, melting my anxiety away.
“I’m tired,” I murmured, my puffy eyes growing heavy.
He pressed a kiss into my hair. “Close your eyes, baby. I’ve got you.”
I wanted to believe those words, but I was afraid of what I would find when I awakened.
Something told me whatever I found, it would engulf us in an inferno neither one of us could extinguish.
For everything I touched always burned.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Writing this novel was akin to therapy for me. If you follow me on Instagram, you may have read recently that Raquel is the character I’m ‘most like.’ Not in looks, style, or personality, but in our shared anxieties, our projection of fears, and that cyclone of uncertainty that keeps us tethered to things that no longer serve us.
No, I definitely did not grow up in the slums of Southie, but Raquel and I both learned that sometimes the bonds we remain loyal to are the ones slowly killing us. Blindness betrayal means that we unknowingly excuse destructive behavior, that we make exceptions for people, that we sooner hurt ourselves repeatedly because we just don’t want to confront what’s in front of us. Our brain often does things to protect us from seeing reality for what it is, even with the mounting evidence, because our fight-or-flight response doesn’t know how to grapple with the truth.
So, we lie to ourselves. We cover our ears, squeeze our eyes shut, and hide until it goes away. It never does, though. Eventually, even the strongest must confront what greets us in the mirror of reality we all live in.
Unfortunately, trauma happens. We experience things in our life that threaten to forge a chasm on the very ground we stand upon–challenging our identity, our relationships, and the very foundation of what makes us who are. We have to work through it, and it’s tiresome. It’s hard, and more times than not? It hurts. Processing takes much longer than we would like, sometimes it takes working with a trained professional or meeting that one person who changes everything for you.
Raquel isn’t broken; she’s learning, much like I did. Learning what it truly means to stand on her own two feet, to embrace her mistakes, and learn to love all the shattered parts of herself.
In Japan, there is an art form known as ‘kintsugi’ which translates to ‘golden repair.’ According to Wikipedia, artists who practice this medium use broken pieces of pottery to form something new, by filling in the cracks with resin or gold, silver or platinum.
This art form is reminiscent of people. Often, we’re ashamed of the cracks that mar our surface, and we try to hide them; but what truly makes us beautiful is how we fill in those cracks and become something new. Embracing that we're not meant to be perfect. That our chips, our grooves, and the filled in bits are what makes us who we are–and that is enough.
We’re not designed to remain the same forever. We get hurt. We fall in and out of love. We end friendships. We lose sight of our dreams. The trajectory we hoped to walk upon changes. One thing that’s always certain? Whatever we become when we fill in those cracks is still whole, still pure, and still worthy.
There is no shame in being broken, and there is still beauty left in the shattered pieces. I hope you loved the second book in this trilogy as much as I did–it’s one that will always remain close to my heart. It was my permission to let go of things that no longer served me, too. I’m truly proud of this instalment in the Reflections trilogy.
On a lighter note–where’s Penelope’s levity when you need her–Awake will be released in late March 2021. I’ll be ready to share what else I’ve been working on then, too–all I will say is this: my next project takes place in this universe and it makes me want to combust.
As always, I want to express my unending thanks to you for giving me your time and sticking out this rollercoaster ride with me. It won’t get any easier, but it’ll certainly make their love burn stronger.
I promise.
Acknowledgments
Shattered, Shattered, Shattered, you almost broke me. Almost.
As someone who has combated her fair share of mental health issues over the years, writing about Raquel’s bouts of anxiety, her trauma, and her fight for absolution was cathartic. For so long, I struggled to understand myself, tried to conform to fit into my ideal version of ‘normal’ and often, it made the anxiety worse. At the height of my healing work, I went through bouts of anger, of inexplicable sadness, of feeling like I was teetering on a precipice of wanting the noise in my head to just stop.
I am for
ever grateful for the people in my life, my partner, my brother, my best friends and family, and the many therapists I worked with who helped me work through my trauma and find a sense of calm, understanding, patience and love for myself that otherwise wouldn’t have existed. Choosing yourself is hard, asking for help even harder, but doing the work, pushing through the noise, and fighting for yourself? It’s the hardest part of the battle–but also the most rewarding. If you’re reading this, I want you to know something: you’re worth it.
I am immensely grateful to live in a time where, despite being amid a global pandemic, I can still explore, experience and fall in love with Boston through the help of the Internet. I am indebted to sources like Boston.com, Boston Globe, Wikitionary (for slang usage) and numerous Wikipedia pages which have imparted so much insight on a city and culture that I adore during a time in which travel and exploration is not an option. My thanks to Psychology Today, too, for helping me further explore and develop coping techniques taught to me in the past I needed to refresh myself on.
This was the second book in this saga, and while I wish I could say: it’s smooth sailing from here, team–it’s not, LOL. (Wait, can I use LOL in an acknowledgement? Fuck it, YOLO.) This book was made possible because of some incredible people in my life–old and new–who have continuously had my back over the writing process of Shattered.
MAR–Honestly, where the fuck would I be without you? Probably still trapped in a cyclone of my own shit. Thank you for giving me the confidence to be myself, for teaching me that the only person I needed to please is me. Loving you has always been easy. Thank you for ensuring we are always well stocked with Nibs, thinking of all the things I don’t when I’m writing, and accepting that I have more conversations with fictional people in my head in a day than anyone else. I am so proud of your accomplishments this year; I believe in you; I believe in your dreams, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you see them through.
JP–I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: having you in my corner is the greatest gift. Knowing you believe in me makes those moments of self-doubt ephemeral. I am so unbelievably proud of the person you’ve become. Your commitment to self-growth and perseverance is my inspiration to always be better. I’m proud to be your older sister!
ABC–Pão, can I just say how fucking much I love you? Watching you blossom this year has been one of my favorite parts of this wildly unprecedented year (next to publishing two books.) I’m so happy that you understand my unarticulated vision and bring color to my projects. Your talent and boundless creativity continue to floor me, I’m so proud of you for putting yourself out there. Also, going to be honest: not sure anyone loves my books, characters and mind more than you do. You are an integral part of the sandwich–don’t you ever forget that. PPG4EVER. Keep on being a queen!
HF–Ham, few are so lucky to say they’ve known one of their best friends since they were twelve and recognize that it was love at first laugh. Thank you for cheering me on, motivating me, and helping me push through the fog of doubt. You are a brilliant and spectacular person. You’ve always had my back, you’ve always been in my corner, and you’ve never, ever let me stay on the ground. You will always be the Mio to my Mayu–there’s no one I want to explore haunted villages with more than you.
LCR–You helped build the foundation of the person I am today. Thank you for teaching me what the essence of a nakama is, for rooting me on, and encouraging me to strive for the best.
My editor, BLU–You’ll never say this to my face (the screen?), but I’m your favourite (with a u) pain in the ass. Thank you for whipping this book into shape, for asking me the hard questions, and forcing me to dig a little deeper.
KJN–Girl, you are such a source of inspiration. You taught me to view my art through a different lens. Keep on being a total badass.
SD–Baka, never thought I’d be so grateful for a time difference. Thank you for letting me pick your brain time and time again. Glad Snapchat could rectify my massive fuck up–it won’t happen again!
ADBC–The most unexpected part of releasing Mirrors was learning that you guys formed a book club. Seriously, thanks so much for reading, for your questions, for your conspiracy theories. Hope you guys loved Shattered just as much as Mirrors. LRR, thanks for being the mastermind–you are the best non-biological sister a gal could ask for.
Readers and reviewers–Thank you, thank you, thank you. Releasing Mirrors was t-e-r-r-i-f-y-i-n-g; I’ve had my fair share of sleepless nights fraught with worry and anxious thoughts. I am overwhelmed and grateful for the positive responses, the kind messages, and that special place on your eReader and/or bookshelves. In moments I want to give up, I think of you. I’m so grateful for the new connections I’ve made that are turning into budding friendships.
Aspiring authors–Write the book; the one that gnaws your soul, the one that makes you uncomfortable, the one that makes your heart flutter. There is no better time than this one to chase your dreams and make them a reality. I believe in you!
About the Author
A.L. Woods is an author of roller coaster romances, caffeine aficionado, and collector of Sailor Moon paraphernalia.
She lives 40 minutes west of Toronto, Ontario with her partner, Michael, and their 8lb larger-than-life miniature dachshund, Maia–whom they lovingly refer to as their ‘doghter.’
Woods can be found holed away in her office writing her next novel with a bowl of Nibs within arm’s reach. When she’s not writing, she’s likely belting out an ad-libbed song, emotionally investing in a fictional bad boy with a strong jawline and fluency in sarcasm or inventing fresh ways to procrastinate.
She believes that burritos should be in their own food group, loves the fall, winged liner, and listening to metalcore at an offensive level.
For photographic evidence of her shenanigans, or cute photos of Maia, follow her on social media.
Website: amandawrites.ca
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