Breathing 02 - Barely Breathing

by Rebecca Donovan

"Yeah," I exhaled. I took another deep breath and explained, "There was some guy looking for money. He beat her pretty bad."

  "What?" Jonathan practically yelled. "Did he hurt you?"

  "No, I'm fine. But she's a mess." I bit my trembling lip and the tears escaped.

  "Where are you now?" he demanded. "I'm driving back toward Weslyn. Where are you?"

  "I'm going back to her house," I explained. "I have to pack a bag so she can stay at Sharon's."

  "Emma, I don't think you should go back there."

  "He's gone," I told him, wiping my cheeks.

  "Don't go in the house until I get there," he instructed firmly before hanging up.

  I pulled back on the road and fought for control over the nerves twisting inside of me, tucking everything away as I was so good at doing. I was numb but focused by the time I pulled into the driveway. Jonathan hadn't arrived yet.

  The front door was still open from our hasty exit. I scouted the street in search of cars, but none were in sight. I was confident the dealer wasn't coming back.

  I walked through the screen door and stood in the foyer, listening. The house remained silent, so I continued up the stairs. I was about to walk into her room, when I thought I heard a board creak. My heart stammered. I turned toward the stairs, but there wasn't anyone there.

  I exhaled, realizing I was holding my breath and started toward her door. I caught sight of my open door out of the corner of my eye and froze. Something was wrong. I turned back, my heart racing. Lying on the floor inside my room was a small blue gift box―the gift box that held the necklace Evan gave to me. The necklace that was supposed to be tucked under my clothes in my top drawer.

  He had come back.

  I raced across the hall. I was shaking my head, yammering, "No, no, no, no," when I slammed into his chest. Rocked backward, I cautiously stepped away while he continued out of my room. He revealed a snarky smirk. My eyes widened, fearing he'd hurt me as he had my mother. My heart thrust against my chest―I braced myself to run. That's when I saw the necklace in his hand.

  "Oh no," I uttered in a breath. Without considering the consequences, I lunged toward him and reached for it. He grabbed my hand before I could touch it, shoving me away.

  "You should have listened," he grunted. The hardened glare in his dark eyes sent a chill through me. I knew that look. I instinctively began to raise my hands to protect myself, but the punch knocked me to the floor. Pain flooded through my jaw, and my eyes filled with black dots.

  I scrambled to my feet, trying to find my focus, needing to reach him before he could make it to the stairs. I pulled at his hand. He turned back around, snatching the necklace out of reach and exclaimed, "You little bitch. What the fuck are you thinking?"

  "You can't have it," I cried. "Please, I'll pay you. But you can't take that from me."

  He laughed and shoved me hard. I collided with the wall and grunted.

  "Who the fuck do you think you are?" he sneered. He swung his arm and back handed me across the head, knocking me to my hands and knees. My head pounded, but I willed myself to get back on my feet. Before I could, his boot crashed into my ribs.

  I screamed out and fell to the floor, my arms wrapped around me as I curled into a ball, unable to catch my breath.

  "Emma!" I heard from the bottom of the stairs.

  I couldn't find my voice to warn him, to tell him to leave. Immobile in my curled position on the floor, I heard scuffling and grunts. I rolled over to see Jonathan shoving the guy against the wall and thrusting his fist into his stomach. The guy buckled over.

  I used the wall to help me up, and leaned against it with an arm across my ribs. Every breath was agonizing. I wanted to yell out, but I could only gasp in staggered breaths. I fumbled for my phone, but it wasn't in my pocket. I searched for it on the floor but couldn't find it.

  The sparkle of the diamond caught my eye on the floorboards at my feet. I wrapped my fingers around it and clenched it tightly in my fist, feeling the stone digging into my palm.

  Jonathan landed a punch to the side of the guy's head, causing him to stagger back. Before he could regain his balance, Jonathan followed with another to his jaw, and the guy teetered over, landing hard on the floor. Jonathan kept a hold of his shirt, keeping him propped up, and slammed his fist into his face. The guy's arms went limp by his sides, but Jonathan was relentless, swinging over and over again.

  "Jonathan!" I screamed as blood smeared the man's face. The tendons in Jonathan's neck strained as he slammed his fist into the mangled face, blood spraying out of the mouth and nose. His rage was insatiable.

  I staggered over and grabbed the arm that was holding the guy up. "Jonathan!"

  Jonathan's head snapped up. His eyes were dark and feral. I didn't recognize him with his lips pulled tight in a hateful sneer. I stumbled back, inhaling sharply.

  It took him a moment to focus on me, for his face to soften. The stone disintegrated from his eyes. I stood with my mouth open in abhorrence. His face contorted painfully when he saw the horror on my face.

  Jonathan slowly lowered the guy to the floor and stood up, not taking his eyes off me.

  "Emma," he breathed desolately. I shook my head, unable to comprehend what I'd just witnessed. I backed away and stared down at the unrecognizable figure on the floor. He wasn't moving. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing. His face was deformed and drenched in blood; he didn't look human.

  "Emma, look at me," Jonathan directed calmly, no longer dazed. "Don't look at him, look at me."

  I pulled my eyes away from the blood spattered remains on the floor and focused on Jonathan. "Emma, keep looking at me. Are you okay?"

  He moved to touch my cheek. "Your face." I pulled back sharply, forcing him to withdraw his blood covered hand. I absently raised my hand to my mouth and winced at its touch. When I pulled it away, my fingertips were covered in blood. At first, I wasn't sure if it was mine. But then I tasted the tang of it in my mouth. I ran my tongue along the cut on the inside of my lip where my teeth had punctured the tissue.

  I was too numb with shock to recognize the pain. Everything moved slowly. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I just stood in that spot and stared at Jonathan's concerned, blood speckled face.

  "Is he..." I rasped, but couldn't finish the question, my eyes drifting back down to the blood covering the floor.

  "Don't look at him." Jonathan stepped toward me to block my view. He guided me to the stairs with outstretched arms, without touching me.

  "What did you do?" The intensity in his hardened eyes flashed before me, and I shuddered. "You looked so... angry."

  "I'm sorry you had to see that. But he hurt you. And I will never let anyone hurt you.” There was a quiet strength in his voice. "Sit here, okay."

  I grabbed the banister and slowly lowered myself onto the top step. I was still stunned, unable to form a cohesive thought. I kept seeing the man’s face explode, and feeling the spray of blood across my cheeks. But what truly disturbed me was the image of Jonathan, so cold and rigid with fury. I smudged the drying blood off my cheek with the back of my hand.

  Jonathan sat down beside me and blotted my face with a wet towel. I stared at him blankly. His face was clean and smooth. He appeared calm and alert, although he kept examining me uneasily, like he was afraid I might fall apart.

  I pulled back with a quick breath at the touch of the cloth to my mouth. "We'll put some ice on that when we get back.” His brown eyes connected with mine and he spoke to me softly, "Just sit here and look straight ahead, okay?"

  I nodded. This didn't feel real. I started to wonder if I was dreaming. I couldn't move. This had to be a dream. But then the pain seeped through my ribs, and the side of my face throbbed. The taste of blood ran over my tongue.

  I heard Jonathan shift the unconscious body, then the jangling of keys. I kept my eyes closed as Jonathan brushed past me down the stairs. My entire midsection screamed with every breath. I let the agony writhe through me, desperately needing
it to keep me grounded.

  "Emma," Jonathan called to me, redirecting my tortured reality. I opened my eyes to find him next to me. "I need you to get in your car. You're going to follow me, okay?"

  I searched his assuring face, slowly becoming more alert. "Where are we going?"

  "Don't worry about anything. You just need to follow me." His dark eyes beseeched me to trust him, and I nodded.

  I pulled myself up and let out a pained breath.

  "Are you okay?" he questioned in alarm, putting his hand on my arm to support me. "How bad are you hurt?"

  "I'll be alright," I grunted breathily, moving away from him down the stairs. I didn't want him to touch me. The unrelenting rage that had overtaken him still haunted me.

  My car wasn't in the driveway. In its place were Jonathan's truck and a dark blue Charger. I looked around in confusion, before locating my car on the street, closer to the neighbor's house on the corner. I slowly made my way to it, panting in pain with each step.

  I sat with the engine running and waited, staring straight ahead. Eventually, the Charger pulled in front of me.

  I drove behind him entranced, focusing on the license plate with my right arm folded across my ribs, squeezing the diamond into my palm. We pulled into the parking lot of the bar outside of town where we'd picked up Rachel. Even though it was the middle of the day, there were still a few cars in the deserted dirt parking lot.

  I watched Jonathan wipe down the handle of the car door before walking over and getting in the passenger side.

  "Drive," he ordered. I pulled away and merged back onto the main road.

  When the bar disappeared from sight, he offered, "Do you want me to drive?"

  I shook my head, needing to concentrate on something other than what we'd just done. We drove in silence until I pulled into the driveway. I shut off the engine and didn't make a move to get out.

  "Jonathan, is he dead?" I asked in a whisper, turning my head to look at him.

  "No," he assured me. "He needs to go to the hospital, but he's not dead. Someone will find him."

  "Will he come after us?"

  "No. You don't have to worry about him ever again. I promise." His eyes shone with conviction, and I knew he was confident in his words. I wasn't.

  I got out of the car and Jonathan followed me to the house. He reached for the screen door to pull it open for me, and I stopped at the sight of his raw bloody knuckles. "Your hand," I gasped.

  "Don't worry about it," he replied dismissively. "We need to get some ice on your face to help the swelling."

  I shook my head. "You need to wrap that. I think we have something in the bathroom."

  I climbed the stairs with Jonathan behind me and continued to the bathroom without pause, past the blood that still covered the floor. While Jonathan rinsed his hands, I rummaged through the closet and pulled out ointment and gauze bandages.

  He blotted his knuckles dry. I gently balanced his hand on my closed fist to inspect the scraped skin that shined with blood. I was about to squeeze the ointment on his knuckles when he pulled it away. "I'll be fine."

  "Jonathan," I implored, looking up at him. My words were lost when I realized how close we were.

  His dark eyes pulled me in. I couldn't move. He raised his hand, gliding his fingertips across my bruised face. I inhaled with a shiver at his touch. He slowly leaned forward. I held my breath, lost in his penetrating gaze. I closed my eyes just before his lips gently brushed against mine.

  I squeezed my hand and the stone cut into me. With a shake of my head, I pulled away, my breath coming back to me in gasps. Jonathan creased his brow in pained confusion. I rushed past him.

  "Emma!" he called out as I scurried down the stairs. "Emma, please!" he called again, his voice urgent. I pushed through the door, leaving him behind.

  39. Breathe for Me

  "Evan?" I called into the kitchen as I pushed open the door, my eyes frantically scanning the room. I paused, but only heard my wavering breaths.

  "Evan?" I called out again more desperately as I continued down the hall.

  "Emma?" His eyes tightened in confusion, then widened when I came into full view from where he stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Emma!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

  The pained shock in his blue eyes incapacitated me. I opened my mouth to speak but only gasped, unable to find the words. His face twisted in panic when I faltered, sinking to my knees with my arms wrapped around my ribs.

  I closed my eyes at the touch of his arms sliding around me and collapsed against his chest. I didn't cry. I didn't say a word. I just breathed jagged bursts of air. He gently rocked my quaking body with his cheek pressed against my temple. I could barely hear him breathe, "Oh, Emma, what happened to you?" I remained quiet and just let him hold me.

  I couldn't keep the blood soaked face from my thoughts, or Jonathan's hardened glare as he continued to punch it. The dark look in his eye when he finally turned toward me, then the shock when he saw my horrified reaction. His touch on my cheek, and the brush of his lips.

  My head shot up, and I searched for Evan, gasping frantically.

  "Emma?" His eyes darted across mine, tight and intense. "No one can hurt you now. Okay?"

  I nodded and my chin quivered. I couldn't do anything except breathe in spasms as my eyes blurred with tears. But I still didn't cry. I couldn't. My entire body felt like it was about to burst apart, and I was doing all that I could to hold it together.

  "Can you get up?" he asked with his arms still encasing me. I shook my head and rested on his chest, closing my eyes and concentrating on the quickened beats against my ear. "You won't stop shaking, Em. Please tell me what happened to you."

  I exhaled in a rasp, unable to speak. I felt like I was breathing under water. I pressed my nose into his shirt and inhaled him, trying to fight my way back to the surface.

  "Evan?" Vivian questioned in confusion. "Why are you... Emily? What's happened?"

  "I don't know," Evan replied quietly.

  I opened my eyes at the touch of her cool, soft hand sweeping against my cheek. Her bright blue eyes examined me sorrowfully. "We're going to take care of you." I pressed my lips together to hold in the ache and nodded. I closed my eyes again and Evan cupped the back of my head and squeezed me gently.

  I heard her heels click on the floor as she said, "I think that will be all for today. Thank you for your help, Analise. If you wouldn't mind calling your mother to let her know that we'll reschedule that meeting for another day."

  Evan slowly pulled back to examine me. I met his troubled gaze reluctantly. He gingerly tilted my chin to get a better look at the side of my face. "Let me get some ice."

  He started to move away and my eyes widened in panic. "No," I pled, grabbing his arm. "Not yet."

  Evan drew me back into him, kissing the top of my head. "Okay," he exhaled.

  "What do you need?" Vivian asked from behind me.

  "An ice pack," Evan told her calmly, not letting me go.

  "Do you think she needs to go to the hospital?" Vivian asked.

  "I don't know. She hasn't said more than a few words since she got here."

  "Emma?" Vivian soothed. I opened my eyes at the use of my preferred name, never having heard her say it before. Evan loosened his hold. "Emma, what happened to you dear?"

  I looked into her sharp blue eyes as she patiently waited for me to explain. "He tried to take it." My voice came out quiet and shaky.

  "Take what?" she coaxed gingerly.

  Evan released me carefully when I moved my hand out from between us, unfolding my fingers to reveal the necklace. I heard her breathe in sharply at the blood coating my palm. I’d squeezed the diamond so tightly it had torn open my skin. I closed my hand back around it, numb to the wounds.

  "Who was it?" she asked, her voice strong but tender.

  "I don't know," I told her. "He was in my room when I got home."

  She nodded and stood back up. "I'm calling the police."


  "No," I begged, turning toward her. My ribs shrieked sharply and I screamed, folding in half.

  "Emma!" Evan called out, his arms back around me. "Where else did he hurt you?"

  My chest tightened against the panting breaths, tears streaming down my face.

  "Emma, we need to look, okay?"

  I slowly sat up and carefully lifted my shirt. My side was dark reddish-purple where his foot had made contact. Evan winced and squeezed my hand. I quickly looked away, unable to witness his aggrieved reaction.

  "I don't want to go to the hospital," I pled to Evan.

  "Then I'm calling Michelle," Vivian retorted from beside me, drawing my attention. "We'll go to her office, and the police will meet us there." By the set look in her eye, I knew this wasn't a choice. She bent down next to us and put her hand on the side of my face, smiling affectionately. "Let us care for you, Emma."

  It was difficult to face myself in the fogged mirror after stepping out of the shower. The right side of my jaw was deep red. My lower lip looked like it was still packed with gauze, even though I'd removed it a while ago, once the bleeding stopped. A small cut ran over my lip where my tooth tore into it.

  I gingerly spread the clear gel over the swollen, discolored skin, cooling it instantly. I turned the tube over in my hand, wondering if the homeopathic medicine would really get rid of the bruising as quickly as Dr. Vassar said it would. There was no way I was going to school, or anywhere in public for that matter, until it went away.

  I eased Evan's t-shirt over my head, holding my breath against the sharp pain triggered by simply raising my arms. Four to six weeks. That's how long it would take for the two fractured ribs to heal. I hoped the pain would subside in less time than that, considering breathing was a form of torture.

  I walked into the guest room feeling as broken as I looked. I stopped at the sight of Evan pacing next to the bed, staring at the floor with his hands on his head, unaware that I was there.

  Evan strode back and forth, lost in whatever torturous thoughts had overtaken him. He'd been so calm all day―holding me, comforting me, quietly watching as Dr. Vassar examined me. He listened silently while holding my hand when the police asked questions. Remaining by my side, strong and supportive, he'd hardly said a word.