Breathing 02 - Barely Breathing

by Rebecca Donovan

  But now he looked like he was coming apart. He flexed his hands, breathing in exaggerated breaths. Seeing him this disturbed paralyzed me. He raised his head and stopped abruptly when he noticed I was watching.

  I inhaled sharply at the sight of his glassy blue eyes. He hid the despair under his lids and tried to regain composure, but his jaw only became tighter and the tendons along his neck, rigid.

  "Evan?" I whispered, not moving.

  He opened his eyes. They glistened in agony, and the line between them deepened when he looked at me. We remained still for a moment. His tormented transformation ripped through me.

  "I promised no one would ever hurt you again." Despite his strained appearance, his voice was calm and strong. I looked into his eyes and was suffocated by the weight of their despair.

  "What?" I shook my head in confusion.

  Evan remained still, not moving toward me―the muscles along his arms remained taught, like he was in physical agony just saying the words. "That night, when you were lying there, broken and barely breathing, I promised. I promised to always love you and that no one would ever hurt you again."

  My mouth opened in shock, but I was too stunned to speak. I moved to the bed, still trying to understand, and lowered myself to sit on the end of it, staring blindly at the floor. My first thought released through my lips, "What did I do to you?"

  Evan knelt before me. It felt like the air was being crushed from my lungs.

  "You were there?" It's one of the details I'd never heard, because I'd refused to learn what had actually happened to me that night. And he never told me.

  Evan swallowed with a slow blink and nodded his head. "I knew I couldn't convince you to leave, so I stayed. I waited in my car, making sure nothing happened. But I fell asleep, and when I woke up, she was there."

  "Oh my God," I gasped, having a hard time accepting what he was telling me, shaking my head. "No."

  "George was already in your room, trying to get her off of you, but he couldn't. I pushed him out of the way and threw her off, but―" He stopped and closed his eyes. I watched his chest rise with a heavy breath before he continued. I wanted to make him stop. I didn't want to hear it. He wasn't supposed to be there, in my nightmare.

  But I was too overwhelmed to ask him not to continue. I watched his lips move, "I couldn't believe what she'd done to you. You were cuffed to the bed, and there was tape over your mouth. You'd been crying, the tears were still running down your face. But... you weren't breathing."

  "Evan," I gasped, my eyes blurred. I placed my hand on his cheek and my body ached with every word. "You shouldn't have seen that."

  He looked up at me with his eyes tight, shaking his head fiercely. "I was supposed to protect you, Emma."

  A tear slid down my cheek.

  "But I didn't." His eyes closed, he struggled with the words. I knew he was still tortured by the image of what he'd seen.

  "You were so still and pale," he continued. His smoky blue eyes connected with mine, and he whispered, "I breathed for you."

  "You?" The shock of his confession devoured me.

  "I begged for you to breathe with every breath I gave to you. I kept pleading for you to breathe over and over again. And then… then you did." He blinked away the tears that flooded his eyes. "I promised―"

  "Evan," I interrupted, "this isn't your fault." I couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd gone through that night. What he'd seen. What he was forced to do. And then had to live with it while keeping it from me for nearly a year.

  "I'm so sorry," I uttered in a soft cry.

  "Emma, don't," he urged. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

  "But you," I stumbled, "But you shouldn't have..." I couldn't find the words to explain that he wasn't supposed to be there. I chose to stay. It was my silence, my denial, my decision that put us there that night.

  "I shouldn't have what?" he challenged. "I should have called the police, or told someone long before that night. I know that now. And I have to live with that. But wanting to protect you, loving you... You will always be my choice."

  His words pierced me, and I closed my eyes, letting the tears slip through my lids. Evan lowered his head on my lap and wrapped his arms around me. I ran my hand over his hair, comforting him.

  I never wanted to hurt him. To damage him. But I had. And even now, my choices continued to destroy him―all I had to do was look in his eyes to see it.

  Vivian didn't say anything when he stayed with me that night. We lay facing each other, with his hand covering mine. It was difficult to lie on my broken ribs, but Dr. Vassar explained that it would help me breathe better, and it did. The tortured look on his face pierced my heart. I was having a hard time finding my breath.

  "Will you please tell me about Rachel and why you spent the day with Jonathan?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off mine.

  "You knew?"

  "Of course," he replied. "What happened in that house, Emma?"

  I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. His impassioned blue eyes held me captive. My voice was soft and strained with emotion. "I thought she would be different. But she hasn't changed. When she started drinking, I was convinced it was my fault―that I reminded her of my dad and I upset her. I wanted to help her, but she just kept drinking. And got worse. Each time she'd hurt me more. In the end... she doesn't love me. She never has."

  Evan was quiet, gently running his hand over my cheek.

  "And Jonathan?" Evan coaxed.

  My eyes flickered, fearing he could see into me. "He was there. He knows how unstable she is, so he understands. He's become... a friend. We went for a drive that day, to get away from her. It wasn't planned. He just wanted to be there for me." I couldn't say more. It was evident by the tightness around his eyes that he was trying to understand, but that this was hard to hear. I kept the rest of what we'd shared to myself.

  "Now I'm here for you," he whispered, holding my hand and kissing it gently. "Close your eyes, Emma. I'm not going anywhere."

  I closed my eyes. But I didn't sleep.

  ~~~~~

  When I opened my eyes again, it was light and Evan wasn't next to me. Sara was.

  "Hey," she greeted with an endearing smile. "You slept a long time."

  "I did?" I responded in surprise since I didn't remember sleeping at all. Holding my breath, I gingerly pushed myself up and noticed it was almost noon. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

  "Jared called," she explained. "I came back on the earliest flight I could get."

  "You didn't have―"

  "Don't even start, Emma," she scolded. "You know I'd do anything for you. Even sit next to an annoying guy who snored on my shoulder the entire flight." She grinned. But her grin couldn't mask her troubled eyes.

  "Thanks, Sara," I returned genuinely. "Where's Evan?"

  "Cooking something," Sara explained. Moving closer, she raised her hand to my cheek, careful not to touch it. "That's going to take some great makeup skills. Good thing you have me."

  "Good thing," I agreed with a wry smile, wincing when I pulled myself up to sit, moving the pillow behind me. Sara's eyes tightened.

  "Oh, I have these for you," she said, handing me two ice packs. "Evan has strict orders."

  I took the packs to set on my bruises. Sara opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. Her brows pulled together, listening intently. She walked to the door and opened it. I watched her curiously, and then I heard it too. It sounded like someone was calling my name.

  Sara moved out the door quickly and I scooted off the bed to follow. I couldn't make out who was saying it, but they kept calling for me.

  "I know she's here," the muffled voice declared. "Emma!"

  Sara was standing in the open doorway of the kitchen when I rounded the corner.

  "Sara, don't let her out here, okay," Evan instructed from the porch.

  "What's going on?" I asked, my pulse picking up when I caught sight of the hardene
d look on Evan's face.

  Sara closed the door, and I could hear Evan continue sternly, "She's fine. You don't need to be here."

  I looked out the window in the sitting room and found Jonathan standing in the driveway. My heart faltered. He was clenching his fists and his face was reddening.

  "Just let me see her, Evan," he demanded, becoming more agitated and taking a step toward Evan. "At least tell her I'm here."

  "Why is he here?" Sara asked from behind me.

  "He just wants to know that I'm okay," I told her, heat rising to my cheeks. With Evan stonewalling him, I knew he was on the brink of losing his patience, and I couldn't let it escalate. I moved past her toward the kitchen.

  "Where are you going?" Sara demanded urgently.

  "He just wants to know that I'm okay," I repeated with my heart beating harder against my chest.

  I opened the door and Evan glanced at me quickly without realizing it was me. He turned back, stunned, when he did. "Emma, don't."

  "It's okay," I assured him with forced calmness. "He just wants to make sure I'm okay."

  Evan tensed when I walked past him, but he didn't stop me.

  Jonathan's face softened when I approached, the confrontational glare instantly replaced by a subtle smile, but the anxious look in his eye remained.

  "Hey," he greeted quietly when I neared him. I stopped in front of him with my arms crossed protectively over my ribs.

  "Hey," I returned timidly. "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm sorry," he began. "I've been trying to call you. I was going out of my mind worried about you. You left so fast after..." He paused, and my heart faltered at the remembrance. "I didn't know how badly you were hurt. I needed to see you."

  "Oh," I responded, my cheeks reddening. "Um, I don't even know where my phone is. I should've called. I'm sorry I didn't." I could feel Evan watching us, and knew Sara was probably next to him as well. I didn't dare look.

  "How are you?" he asked, but it was a loaded question, and I didn't answer until he clarified. "How badly are you hurt?"

  "I'll be okay," I returned softly.

  "I scared you, didn't I?" he said, his voice faltering. I looked up into his eyes, having avoided them since I stepped out of the house. I was struck by the sorrow that coated them. "I promised never to do that. I'm so sorry, Emma."

  I swallowed hard, and nodded, unable to speak.

  "I care about you," he explained. "I couldn't―" He glanced toward Evan without finishing―recognizing we weren't alone. "What does he know?"

  "Um," I faltered. "I didn't say anything, really. Just explained how everything was a mess with Rachel. And I didn't tell the police you were there either. I told them I walked in on the guy and couldn't remember what he looked like."

  "Okay," Jonathan accepted with a nod. "So he doesn't know about the nightmares, or your fears, or..."

  I shook my head, darting my eyes along the ground guiltily. I gripped my hands as the tension crashed in on us. I couldn't breathe. Jonathan reached to touch my arm and I backed away with a shake of my head.

  "I know," he returned with a defeated breath. "It's not right to put you in this situation."

  I lifted my eyes to his. The remorse in his glistening gaze caused my heart to falter.

  "Emma, please don't give up on me." His words spilled out in a desperate rush, leaving me speechless.

  "Please," he begged again.

  "I won't," I whispered. "I just need some time."

  "I understand," he replied, bowing his head. "I'll go. But I'll hear from you... when you're ready?"

  I nodded, evading his eyes. I turned away, my shoulders bowed, crushed with guilt. I continued past Evan and Sara, who were standing on the porch, watching our every move. But I knew they hadn't heard a single word we'd said.

  Sara followed me inside while Evan waited for Jonathan to back out of the driveway.

  "How'd he even know where you live?" Sara asked Evan when he closed the door.

  "I don't know," Evan replied, his eyes following me carefully.

  "It's not difficult to find anything in Weslyn," I found myself saying, "You just have to ask." They peered at me curiously.

  "What was that about?" Sara demanded as I moved to leave the room. "He seemed so upset."

  "He was there," Evan said before I could utter a word. My heart skipped a beat, wondering how he knew.

  "What?" Sara spun toward him. She flipped her eyes from Evan to me. I looked down. That's all she needed. "He was. Why?"

  "Why did you lie to the police?" Evan demanded on top of her question.

  I took a deep breath and began. "The guy was my mother's drug dealer. I didn't want the police to know." I skirted my eyes between them for a reaction. They appeared surprised, but remained quiet. I shifted my gaze back to the floor and continued. "He beat her pretty bad because she owed him money. I found her when I went to the house to get my soccer shirt. I ended up having to take her to the hospital. Jonathan found out and didn't want me to go back to the house, but I figured the guy would be gone. I was wrong." I paused, deciding how to continue. "Jonathan showed up, and fought the guy off."

  "That's what I thought. I saw his knuckles," Evan said with a slight edge to his voice. "So, he protected you?" I raised my head, struck by his tone. I nodded and pain shot across his face, knowing Jonathan had done what he'd vowed to do―to protect me.

  "So why did he come by here?" Sara asked, breaking our tense connection.

  "I ran out," I explained quickly. I couldn't tell them how badly Jonathan had beaten the guy, and that I thought he might be dead. Or the true reason I left in such a rush. I took a quick breath and repeated, "He just wanted to know that I was okay."

  "That's it?" Evan asked skeptically, examining me. My face flamed up, fearing he'd seen more between us. I nodded, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. "I know you explained that you and Jonathan are friends and that you can talk to him about Rachel. I get it. But why do I get the feeling he knows more than I do?" His voice became stronger as he spoke, more agitated. I opened my mouth instinctively to defend Jonathan, but stopped when I saw the challenging look on Evan's face. "Then the way he was out there... The way he was looking at you..." I shifted my eyes. He released a breath, and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, Emma, but I just don't trust him."

  And maybe he had good reason not to.

  40. Honest Truth

  No matter how hard I tried not to, I kept thinking about what I'd witnessed. His dark eyes were so compelling and trusting, yet instantly cold and hard. There was more hidden in their darkness than pain and torture. More than anger and loathing.

  It seemed impossible that the same man who stayed up with me in the middle of the night, laughing at infomercials, was capable of bludgeoning someone into a grotesque, bloody mess. I shuddered at the remembrance, hugging the pillow against me tighter.

  "What are you thinking about?"

  I turned my head with a start. Evan stood in the doorway of the sun room, the warm rays lighting up the breathtaking angles of his face. Darkness wasn't hidden in his steel blue eyes. The disturbing thoughts were instantly brushed away at the sight of him.

  "Hi," I greeted happily. "How was school?" I closed the book that was resting on my lap and set it on the wicker table beside me with the pillow I was mangling.

  "The same," he shrugged, sitting down and resting my legs across his lap. "How was your day?"

  "I helped stuff envelopes," I shared. "So exciting."

  Evan laughed. He leaned toward me and ran his fingers over the vanishing bruise along my jaw, inspecting it. Then he leaned a little closer and gently kissed me.

  "Aren't you supposed to be at practice?" I suddenly remembered when he pulled away.

  "The coach had an appointment, so we have practice tomorrow instead."

  "On a Saturday?"

  "Unfortunately," Evan grimaced.

  "Oh," I sighed. "I was hoping we could get my things tomorrow. Anna hired some guys to move
the furniture out this weekend, so I need to pack up before they arrive."

  "Is Rachel back?"

  "I have no idea," I answered with a shake of my head. "I haven't heard from her, but I don't really expect to either. I'm hoping she's not."

  "Do you want to go there this afternoon?"

  A jolt shot through me just thinking about going back to the house. I knew we'd have to eventually, but I wasn't expecting it to be this afternoon. I thought I'd have more time to prepare.

  "Okay," I answered, "let's do this," realizing there wasn't any way to prepare for it, no matter how much notice I had.

  "You don't have to," Evan reassured me. Apparently my anxiety was evident. "Sara and I could go when she gets out of track practice. Besides, she said she wanted to help."

  "No," I countered, trying to sound confident, "I can do it. I'll text her and tell her to meet us there when she gets out."

  "Are you sure?" he confirmed again, eyeing me skeptically. "What if she's home?"

  I didn't know how to tell him that it wasn't Rachel that made me dread going back to the house. It was the fear that there would still be blood on the floors. But the police didn't return to question me further upon searching the house, so I was fairly confident that Jonathan had cleaned it up and disposed of the broken coffee table. I had a feeling I'd see the blood even with my eyes closed.

  "I can handle it," I assured him. Evan stood and offered me his hand. I took it and eased myself from the wicker chaise that was layered with pillows for my comfort. It didn't matter how many pillows it had, it didn't keep the pain at bay every time I had to breathe.

  "I wonder how bad it's going to be," I thought out loud as we weaved through the back roads of Weslyn.

  "What?" Evan asked with uncertainty.

  "My room."

  "How come you didn't go back with the police to see if anything was taken?"

  "Because I knew there wasn't," I replied flatly, knowing the only thing he tried to take was hanging around my neck.