LatinosUSA

Content Warning: Violence

New place, old habits

“Eve! Get up!”

There’s violent banging at my door. I get up, dress, and go to the bathroom to wash myself. When I come out, I see Gavin at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the paper.

“Eat something. We’re leaving today,” he says.

“Where?”

“To New York. Where do you think?” he spits the words like I’m an idiot.

“I don’t want to go. All my friends are here.”

“I don’t give a shit. Pack whatever you need—don’t take too much—and let’s go,” he says, eyes glued to the paper.

I watch him scan it. His forearms are scratched, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow. I can’t help myself.

“What happened to your eyebrow?”

He looks at me and grins like the devil.

“Worried about me, babe? That’s so sweet.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just want to know if you’re killing again.”

In an instant he’s on me. His hand clamps around my neck and squeezes. I can’t breath. My eyes bulge, and my blood pounds in my ears. Then, calm as ever, he whispers in my ear:

“Don’t you worry about my whereabouts. I do whatever I want, so keep out of my fucking business. Do you understand?»

He shakes me hard and throws me to the floor. I can barely breathe—the sting in my chest and head is unbearable. My brain feels starved of oxygen. I manage to get up and retreat to my room. I pack only the necessary things. A few days ago, I found a knife under the bed. I take it and wrap it carefully in toilet paper.

We leave with his truck. Inside, everything is unnaturally clean. I’m certain he’s killed someone.The blood on his clothes were a clue—but the spotless car confirms it. I’m terrified, but I can’t bring up the subject again. I know he’ll do worse  if I try.

 What I don’t understand is why I’m not dead yet. He could have killed me already, but he didn’t. He’s probably waiting for the right moment. I keep my head against the window, watching the trees and the houses we leave behind. I know I’ll never see my hometown again.

~~

Life in New York is very different. There’s a lot of noise, and people don’t look at you, even if you’ve got a bruise on your cheek. So I lose all hope that maybe someone will come and rescue me—or at least help me. Gavin is becoming more and more violent, and I’m so scared of him that I barely sleep. I’m always on guard, in case he comes and unleashes his rage on me.

I also know he’s been killing here as well. There are nights when he goes out and returns late. I’ve found bloodstains on the carpet and dirty clothes in the hamper. I don’t bring it up. It’s better to keep my mouth shut if I don’t want to end up like them.

“You have to get a job. New York is very expensive, and I can’t take care of both of us. So I found you a waitress gig at a diner very close to us. You’ll start Monday,” he tells me three weeks after we arrive.

I don’t comment. I just say “Okay,” and that’s it.

Back home, I worked as an accountant. I always liked numbers, and my parents encouraged me to do whatever I loved. Now I’m going to serve people. That’s okay. At least I’ll get out of the house.

“Don’t get any ideas. You’ll come straight home. No socializing, no friends. If I find out you went out and talked about me, you’re dead. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

On Monday, I get up and wash my face, and it’s like I see myself for the first time. I look so much older than before. I’ve got wrinkles in places I didn’t have before, dark circles around my eyes. I’m pale like a ghost. I try to mask everything with some concealer and blush, then a layer of mascara on my eyelashes.

Gavin already left for work, which is good, because I don’t want to see him and ruin my day. I step outside, excited that I can walk and inhale the summer air.

When I arrive at the diner, there’s a sign with the name Brooklyn Bite. It sounds very New York—very specific to the neighborhood—but it doesn’t bother me. I go inside, and the smells overwhelm me: coffee, cupcakes, pies, and toast with eggs and bacon. It makes me hungry, even though I haven’t felt hungry in a long time.

“Hi! You must be Eve. I’m Angela Green.”

A middle-aged woman approaches and extends her hand. I presume she’s the owner. I hesitate before shaking it. I’m very guarded since Gavin destroyed my life, so it takes me a moment to go back to my old self.

“Hello. Yes, I am,” I answer, trying to smile. It probably comes out more like a grimace.

“Let me show you around. This is my diner. We serve a lot of food, but also a lot of coffee—especially in the morning. You’ll see that the mornings can be really tough and demanding. Today, you’re going to observe me, and if you’re okay with it, you can start tomorrow. How does that sound?” she asks, smiling kindly at me.

She reminds me of my mom, and suddenly I feel like crying and telling her about the nightmare I’ve been living for the last few months. But I stop myself, smile back, and say I’m ready.

Angela shows me where to put my purse and jacket, introduces me to all the other workers, and then we start taking orders. She shows me how to handle the coffee machine. It’s a bit complicated because I don’t know the difference between a latte and an Americano, but Angela assures me that in time I’ll get the hang of it.

Then we move on to the meals. They have a large variety of specials, and I have to learn them by heart. There’s also the menu of the day, which comes at a special price. The food part seems easier than the coffee, but I don’t complain. I have no right to. If I do and lose this job, Gavin will end me.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1, February 9: 
https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/02/09/chapter-1-of-bruised-but-unbroken-by-alissa-brown/

Chapter 2, February 16: 
https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/02/16/chapter-2-of-bruised-but-unbroken-by-alissa-brown/