Breathing 02 - Barely Breathing

by Rebecca Donovan

  I thought I heard him laugh. "It's not hard to find anything in Weslyn. All you have to do is ask, and people talk. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to you," he assured me. "I promise."

  I buried my face in my hands, as the world spun out of control. I couldn't watch as we turned down each road. The closer we got, the more I had to fight the urge to jump out of the truck.

  "Come on, Emma." I was too wrapped up in my anxiety to realize we'd stopped.

  "I can't," I whimpered, unable to unshield my face.

  "Yes you can," he consoled. "I'm here. Nothing's going to happen."

  My hands shook when I lowered them. I kept my eyes closed and tried to calm the panic that was overtaking me. "I don't think I can get out."

  His door opened and closed behind him. I stayed within the dark cab, paralyzed. My door opened, and his warm hand wrapped around mine. "You can do this."

  I opened my eyes and looked into his. "Come on, Emma.” I concentrated on his face. It was so sure and confident. I held tight to his hand as if it were a lifeline. I suddenly felt so small.

  "Just look at me," he encouraged, as I stepped down from the truck. "Keep looking at me."

  I nodded, unable to find my voice. I continued to focus on him, his eyes assuring me with every step.

  "Okay, close your eyes," he advised, "I'm going to turn you toward it." My knees buckled, but he kept me upright with his hands gripping my shoulders.

  "Why are we doing this?" I whispered, feeling the warmth of the tears on my cheeks.

  "Because I can sleep," Jonathan answered softly in my ear, still holding me upright.

  "What?" His words distracted me from my anxiety, and I tilted my head toward him. "What did you say?"

  "I don't know if it was facing it, or sharing it with you, but I've been sleeping through the night. And I want you to be able to, too." He gently ran his thumb along my cheek to wipe away the tears. "Go ahead and look."

  I reluctantly moved my eyes from his face to the house in front of me. It felt like there was a stone in my chest. I leaned against him.

  "This is where it happened," he said in a hush, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "This is where you died."

  I nodded, unable to see clearly through the tears.

  "Do you remember now?"

  I blinked the tears free and stared at the grey Cape, sunken within the shadows of the neighbors' trees. A "For Sale" sign hung in the miniscule front yard. It looked so much smaller than I remembered. I got lost in the dark windows. So much pain lay hidden behind them.

  "Where did it happen?" he asked, his voice faint like a whisper in my head.

  "In my room," I rasped, my eyes shifting to the side of the house. Jonathan took my hand and guided me closer. My pulse raced with each step. He led me along the wooden fence that bordered the neighbor's yard.

  "Where?" he asked again.

  I pointed to the second window. "Here." I trembled beneath the white framed window, her voice seething from the other side, I am not losing my family because of you. I shivered.

  "Emma, what happened to you?" he probed, not letting me go.

  Staring into the dark, I was swallowed into my nightmare. Tugging at the restraints around my wrists. "I couldn't move," I murmured. The fabric upon my face. "And I couldn't see." Jonathan's arm tightened around me. Struggling beneath her weight. "I tried to get away, but I couldn't. Then... then I felt her hands..." I blindly touched my neck, still able to feel her cold claws. I shuddered. "I fought so hard. There was... pain..." I breathed in quickly as it streaked through my body, "my ankle..." I clamped my eyes closed. Banging and muffled cries. "But then I just... I just gave up."

  I bowed my head with a gasp and tears ran over my nose.

  "But you didn't, Emma. You didn't give up. You're here."

  "I don't want to be here anymore," I whispered.

  "Okay," he said, his lips next to my ear. "Okay, we'll leave."

  I stepped away without looking at him, and he let me go. I walked back to the truck with my head down, trying to release the crushing pressure in my chest. I'd just stepped into one of my nightmares. And I was fighting so hard to get back out.

  38. Covering Up

  "Good morning," Jonathan smiled from the chair across from me with a blanket over his lap. "You slept."

  I took in a breath and blinked. "Have you been there all night?"

  "Do you mean, all morning?" he teased. "But you slept."

  "You didn't sleep?" I questioned, pushing myself up to sit, the weariness still lingering despite the few hours of rest.

  Jonathan shrugged without answering, but continued to wear a smug grin.

  "Oh, don't start thinking you cured me or anything," I said, suddenly realizing what was behind the grin. "Just because I slept for a few hours, it doesn't mean the nightmares have vanished. We'll see if you deserve the pat on the back when I go to bed tonight. Besides, they don't happen every night, and you know that."

  "You are really good at this denial thing, aren't you?" he laughed. "You have no idea what's going on until you can't ignore it any longer."

  "Yeah," I huffed. "I love not sleeping at night, and just want to prove you wrong."

  "That's not what I meant," he grinned wider, but before I could question him, he stood up, leaving the blanket on the chair. "Are you hungry? I have... cereal."

  "Thanks, but I should get to Casey's," I returned, standing to stretch my legs with my arms extended above me―feeling the ache in my neck and back. "Your couch isn't very comfortable to sleep on."

  "It's not meant to be slept on. I offered you the bed," he shrugged. I didn't respond. I hadn’t exactly been comfortable with that offer.

  I picked up my phone and slid on my shoes. I scanned through my missed texts from Casey, and the one response that wasn't actually from me. "Thanks for texting Casey for me last night."

  "I didn't want her to worry," he replied, pouring cereal into a bowl. "She thought it was you. I don't think you'll have to tell her where you were."

  I nodded, not sure how that explanation would've come out anyway. I still didn't know what I would say if she ended up asking. But then again, Casey wasn't the curious type, so I hoped to avoid the inquiry altogether.

  "I have to stop by Rachel's to get my shirt for the game tomorrow," I remembered out loud with a groan, sliding on my jacket.

  Jonathan paused, appearing concerned.

  "Don't worry," I assured him. "She should've left for work by now. Speaking of which, aren't you going to be late?"

  "I'm working from home today," he explained. "You have a game tomorrow?"

  "Yeah."

  "Would it be okay if I watched it? I've never seen you play, and I kinda want to see what the scholarship's all about."

  "Umm, sure," I fumbled. "I'll text you where we're playing. I can't remember where it is right now."

  "Great. Thanks."

  I was about to leave when he called, "Emma."

  I hesitated.

  Jonathan leaned back against the island. His dark hair was disheveled but the way the waves twisted, it looked like it was on purpose. His wrinkled t-shirt clung to him, hinting at the broad muscle beneath. Taking in his casual stance against the counter, I could actually picture him in the magazine, and recognized why he drew so much attention.

  "I like this," he confessed. "Us. Being able to talk. I've never been able to do it before. Not even with... Sadie. I've needed it... you. And now you're here, and well... thank you."

  A chill ran through me when I found myself caught in the depth of his eyes. I blinked away and nodded. "I like this too." My voice came out small and broken as heat spread across my cheeks.

  Jonathan smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

  "Yeah," I returned with a faint smile. I suddenly wasn't so sure if his coming to see me play was such a good idea. Something felt different this morning―like my vulnerability last night allowed him to get too close, closer than he'd already been. "I'll see you tomorrow."
/>
  When I turned onto Decatur Street, I slowed to a crawl, just in case. I came to a sudden stop when her car appeared in the driveway, and quickly put my car in reverse. I huffed in frustration as I backed away, knowing I needed my shirt by tomorrow morning. But the last thing I wanted was another confrontation, or a Twilight Zone conversation where she pretended nothing was wrong.

  As expected, Casey didn't think twice about where I'd spent the night. Instead, she went on about the great party I'd missed. I'd only gotten a few hours of sleep on Jonathan's couch, so I was pretty out of it most of the day. She didn't seem to notice.

  I had every intention of returning to Rachel's that night, in hopes that she'd be out doing what she did best on a Friday night―but I never made it that far.

  "Emma, you can sleep in the guest room," Casey's voice cut through my head. I opened my eyes to find her standing above me with the movie still playing in the background.

  "Sorry," I offered. "I'm so pathetic today, I know. I'm just really tired."

  "It's okay," Casey returned. "I didn't expect us to go to a party or anything. Besides, I'm pretty tired from last night too. I'll see you in the morning?"

  "Yeah," I told her, dragging my feet to the guestroom. My phone chimed as I was about to slide under the covers. I didn't look to see who was calling as I put it to my ear, "Hello?"

  "Hi," Evan said from the other end. My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice.

  "Hi," I returned in joyous relief. "How are you?"

  "Good," he responded, sounding a little surprised. Maybe I’d come across a little too happy to hear from him. "I'm at the airport in L.A. for my connecting flight and I wanted to hear your voice. It's been really hard not talking to you."

  "You have no idea," I exhaled. "When will you be home?"

  "Tomorrow afternoon. Can I see you? I'll come straight from the airport."

  "Um, why don't I meet you at your house? Will your parents be home?"

  "My mother might be," he considered. "I don't think my father will be around. She mentioned a meeting in DC. I'll see you at my house. I should be there between two-thirty and three."

  "That's perfect," I smiled.

  "I should've called you, Emma. I'm sorry," he quickly added, the regret in his voice forced my pulse to quicken.

  "You needed time," I stated quietly. "I deserved it."

  "No. I should have called. That wasn't right, to do that to you. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

  When I hung up the phone I was filled with both elation and dread. I missed him so much it ached, but I knew what was going to happen when we saw each other, and I wished it was already over. I couldn't fast forward the inevitable, so I accepted the long and difficult conversation we were about to have and collapsed in bed where exhaustion pulled me into a dreamless sleep.

  ~~~~~

  I left a little early for the game so I could pick up my jersey on the way. I anxiously tapped my fingers on the steering wheel the entire drive, hoping she'd stayed at his place, whoever that might be, or was still passed out.

  "Shit," I grunted, when I saw the two cars in the driveway. I pulled up along the street and closed my eyes while gripping the steering wheel. Focused on running in to get my shirt and back out, I didn't bother to remove my keys from the ignition. I wouldn't acknowledge her if she said anything to me.

  My heart beat frantically when I approached the front door. I hesitated before opening it, thinking I'd heard her yell. When I didn't hear it again, I continued inside.

  Her agonizing cries stole the breath from my lungs. I stared in horror at the large man pounding his fist into my mother's side as she cowered on the floor in front of the couch with her hands over her head. She hollered in pain with each impact, trying to shrink away from his blows without anywhere to go.

  "What are you doing?" I yelled, without thinking about anything except making him stop, despite the fact that he had a good five inches on me and looked enraged enough to take down a bull.

  "This is none of your business," the guy growled at me. "Get the fuck out of here."

  "Emily," my mother gasped. She tried to pull herself up on the coffee table. My mouth opened in a shocked utterance when I saw the blood gushing out of her nose and the swelling enveloping her right eye.

  He wasn't about to let her come back up, turning toward her as she stumbled to her feet. He raised his bloodied fist just as I screamed, "No!" The collision spun my mother around, teetering her over the top of the coffee table. It collapsed upon impact. Her crumpled body didn't move, sprawled awkwardly on the splintered wood.

  He turned to intercept me when I rushed to her, shoving me out of his way with virtually no effort. I landed hard on my side with a grunt.

  "You want to make this your business?" the guy threatened from above me. I shrunk into the floor. He snarled down at me as he breathed heavily through flared nostrils. His black eyes threatened to bore right through me. "Then you're going to get hurt, little girl. This is between me and Rachel, so I'm only going to warn you one last time. Stay the fuck out of it."

  I tensed, prepared for him to hit me. But he moved past me, slamming the front door behind him. I scrambled to my knees and slid over to the collapsed coffee table where my mother was starting to moan.

  "Mom?" I called to her with tears in my eyes. "Can you hear me?"

  She groaned louder and squinted with her good eye. "Emily? Is he gone?"

  "Yeah, he's gone," I assured her, tenderly sitting her up. She whimpered with the slightest movement. "Can you get up? We need to get you to the hospital."

  "I think I broke my wrist," she cried, holding her left wrist, the one she'd held out to break her fall.

  "Easy," I coaxed gently. My voice was steady as I supported her to sit, but my entire body was shaking.

  "I'm sorry," she gasped, fresh tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry."

  "Okay," I consoled, dismissing her pleas. "Now let's see if you can stand." Supporting under her arm, I helped her up.

  She was crying uncontrollably by the time we reached the car. I took a deep breath when I sat on the driver's seat and tried to remember how to get to the hospital, needing to remain calm so I could think clearly.

  "It's okay," I breathed to myself. "Everything's going to be okay." I flipped my eyes toward my sobbing mother and said it louder for her to hear, "Everything's going to be okay."

  Her cries dwindled to spastic breaths and sniffles as we neared the hospital.

  "How are you doing?" I asked, afraid to take my eyes off the road, strangling the steering wheel.

  "I'm sorry," she choked again.

  "Okay," I dismissed anxiously. "But how are you feeling? Can you see out of that eye? Does anything else hurt?"

  "I think I'll be fine," she returned in a murmur, wiping the blood from her face with her sleeve covered hand.

  "Who was that guy?" I asked, now that she was starting to sound more coherent.

  She just shook her head.

  "Rachel," I demanded forcefully. "Who was that guy? Why did he do this to you?"

  She swallowed audibly and released a quivering breath. "I owe him some money," she whispered faintly.

  I pulled my brows together. "For what?"

  She wouldn't answer. I didn't ask again.

  I tried to remember if I knew what he looked like, for when the police asked. Besides being big and sleazy looking, I couldn't remember anything descript about his face. Then I knew. There was only one reason my mother would owe a guy like that.

  "He's your dealer," I concluded out loud. Rachel remained silent. I couldn't stand to even look at her. I clenched my teeth together and stared at the road as the anger built up in my gut, tightening every muscle in my body.

  When we arrived at the emergency room entrance, I demanded, "Give me your phone."

  "What?" she squeaked. "Why?"

  "I'm calling Sharon to pick you up," I told her, my voice edged with fury. "You should probably stay with her anyway until you can
fix your mess."

  "Emily," she pleaded desperately. "Please don't leave."

  "I'm not staying here with you," I snapped coldly, unable to look at her. "I'll go back to the house to pack you a bag, and I'll leave it on the porch for Sharon to pick up."

  "Don't," she sobbed, "don't say anything, okay?"

  I turned toward her with my face pulled tight in disgust. I couldn't believe she was actually asking me to lie for her. I shook my head in anguished disbelief.

  "Please," she begged, "I'm just going to tell them I was robbed and he took off before I could see him." Her eye was practically swollen shut, and congealed blood lined her nose. Her one good eye continued to tear up as she breathed in spasms. She looked horrid. But I couldn't pity her. As she gibbered in front of me, desperate for me to protect her with another of her lies, I loathed her.

  I seethed through clenched teeth, "Don't worry. I won't tell the police that your drug dealer beat you because you owe him money. It's none of my business, remember?"

  She gasped in a sob and turned from me, carefully letting herself out of the car while leaving her phone on the seat. As soon as the door was closed, I pulled away without looking back.

  The impact of what had happened took hold of me as I turned onto the main road and I pressed my lips together to keep them from trembling. The anger kept back the tears, but my body shook despite my efforts.

  I parked along a residential street and picked up her phone with an unsteady hand. After leaving a message for Sharon, my phone rang.

  I took a deep breath before answering.

  "Emma?" Jonathan confirmed when I answered with a strained voice. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

  I closed my eyes and grimaced. He was at my soccer game. "Umm... I had to get my shirt," I tried to explain, my voice cracking.

  "What happened?" he demanded urgently. "Emma, where are you?"

  "I had to bring Rachel to the hospital," I released, trying to remain calm. "Jonathan..." I pressed my lips together. The anger was giving way, and I was about to lose it. I breathed in through my nose to ward off the tears.

  "Are you okay?"