Just Breathe (The Blue Series Book 1)

by Chelle C. Craze

  “I don’t…I don’t know. I was driving. I thought she was sleeping.” My voice cracks, trying to keep my quivering chin steady as the doctor’s mouth draws into a thin line as he raises an eyebrow.

  “I see,” he says. The irritation in his voice is unmistakable, but as long as he helps us, I don’t care what he thinks of me. I already hate myself enough as it is. He doesn’t need to remind me of what a shitty excuse for a person I am. He takes her from me, and people in scrubs surround her, wheeling the gurney into a room across the hall.

  Defeat crushes me, and I fall to my knees, powerless to what is happening to her just a mere twenty feet away. I somberly stare into my empty palms, frozen in place while people yell medical terms from the room. More employees flood the hallway with machines and disappear into the room where she lies.

  The speakers crackle as a solemn voice comes over the intercom, “Code Blue, Emergency Room Two. Code Blue, Emergency Room Two.”

  I close my eyes. She’s inside that room. I don’t have to look above the door for confirmation, yet my eyes wander up to the black number painted on the cinderblock wall.

  I notice Felix beside the doorframe, holding his head in his hands. He must have been right behind me, but I wasn’t aware.

  When I try to stand, the room spins out of control around me, and I swiftly grab onto a nearby chair to steady myself.

  “Sir? Are you okay?” a meek voice asks me, and I shift my attention to a tiny girl with gigantic questioning blue eyes. She doesn’t wait for an answer, but reaches into the backpack behind her and pushes a white ball of fur into my hands. “Here, you need him more than I do.” She tugs at the toy puppy’s ear and then wraps her petite fingers around one of mine. I blankly stare at her fingers, immediately thinking of the explanation Arya had given about her stuffed animal. She thinks it will watch over her after Amelia is gone. A quiet sob of heartbreak escapes my throat as some woman shoots me a dirty look and then hastily pulls the child away, ripping the dog from my fingers.

  I force my feet to move and walk to Felix’s side. “Man, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to take her…I just didn’t know what else to do,” I explain my guilty conscience, trying to maintain my composure.

  “Lucas, they won’t let me in to see her.” He pulls me in for a hug as he sobs uncontrollably against my shoulder. “They said they would do everything they could, but we needed to stay out here and let them work. I can’t lose her. She and Arya are my life,” he says in a flat voice as his legs slowly begin to give away. Bracing his weight with my own, I guide him down to the floor, and we suffer in misery together.

  No words seem fitting to say, so I don’t even attempt. Sometimes, the wrong people get the shit end of a bullet in this fucked-up game of Russian roulette, otherwise known as life, and their entire world is ripped away from them. Time feels like it has frozen; each second that passes seems unbearable. We’re insensible to what is happening behind the door, which at some point, they slammed in our face. The only thing we can do is sit outside the exam room and fucking wait.

  Felix’s face is puffy, and he looks like shit. However, I can’t imagine my appearance is any better.

  “Mr. Morgan?” a gray-haired man in a white coat says as he exits the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Every muscle in my body tenses with each step he takes toward us, preparing for news I don’t want to hear.

  “Y-yes? I am Mr. Morgan.” Felix gets to his feet and extends his hand into a formal handshake with the doctor. Seeing the disappointment spread across the doctor’s wrinkled face makes my stomach churn, and I hang my head. My sister has left this world. There is no doubt in my mind.

  “My name is Dr. Javen. Your wife went into cardiac arrest, and we had to perform CPR.” Felix drops his hand to his side, and I put my arm around his shoulders for support. Dr. Javen exhales.

  “We were able to save her, but I have to be honest with you. I’m not sure how long she has with us. It could be five minutes, or it could be five months. That part is left up to God.” He pats us both on the back. “She isn’t responsive, but things could change. I’ve reviewed the copy of Advance Directives you provided, and per her wishes, we will try life support for a trial period.” Felix nods. “Due to the lack of oxygen during the code, it is probable she has suffered some brain damage. We will run several tests to see.” He flips open the chart and turns a couple of pages.

  “Looks like she is scheduled for a CT scan in the morning.”

  Felix interrupts him, “Can we see her?” He stares blankly at the wall as he speaks, barely blinking while he waits for an answer.

  “Yes, but we are going to be moving her to the Intensive Care Unit soon. There is paperwork you all will have to sign, giving consent for the hospital to treat her and perform procedures.” He closes the chart with a loud clap and hangs it back onto the wall.

  A feeling of euphoria trails through my body, and I close my eyes tightly as I lean against the wall. I should be paying attention to Dr. Javen, but I can’t bring myself to listen to another word. He’s already told me the one thing I wasn’t expecting. She’s alive. That’s all I need to know. I’ll deal with the rest when I need to, but for now, she still has a chance. I guess all we can do now is pray for a miracle while we wait.

  Felix shakes me. “Luke, snap out of it. She’s waiting on us.” When I open my eyes, his closeness startles me. I run my fingers over my face, as I try to regain my grasp on reality.

  “Okay, man, let’s go.” We trudge into the room, and my feet feel like they weigh more than an eighteen-wheeler. I should be running to her side to find her still breathing and her heart still beating in her chest, but I know she isn’t going to be the same.

  Her body lies practically motionless on white sheets with a tube down her throat and wires hanging all around her. This is one nightmarish sight I never wish to see again.

  Mom had suffered for six weeks before she ‘expired,’ as the nurses explained. Fucking expired! Bastards described her like she was some kind of rotten meat! Until then, I had thought nurses were expected to be compassionate, but they had shown me differently. Pops died instantly upon impact.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to get Mrs. Morgan ready for transport to ICU,” a mousy nurse says with a sigh as she comes into the room clearing her throat.

  Felix leans over Amelia’s body and kisses her forehead as he always does, like nothing has changed, but it has. I take her hand in mine, and it’s unbearably cold. I run my fingers up to her wrist and feel her pulse weakly threading through her veins beneath my fingers. We can’t leave her right now. We have to stay here as long as she is alive. They shouldn’t ask a family to just nonchalantly throw away what could be the final moments they have with their loved one. Yet, then again, I know from when Mom was in the hospital that most people don’t care.

  “After we get her ready, you can come back inside and go up to ICU with her.” The nurse walks deeper into the room, further proving her point as she kicks us out.

  “Okay,” Felix says sternly and glares at her briefly. He leans down and kisses Amelia on the cheek, leaving a trace of his tears behind on her skin. The nurse begins to tap her foot as I kiss the back of my sister’s hand.

  “Fuck, woman, we get the point!” I spit out as we pass her, heading to the waiting room.

  “Luke, I hate to ask you this, but I can’t leave her.” He wipes his face on his sleeve and studies me through pain-ridden eyes. “Could you please stay with Arya? Mum is with her, but Arya will have too many questions if neither of us comes home. Please, don’t tell her. I’d like to be the one to do that.” Hesitantly, I bite the inside of my cheek and then agree as I head toward the exit.

  Walking to my car is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Each bit of distance between the hospital and me adds another ounce of guilt. It’s unbelievable that someone didn’t steal my car. Apparently, I was in such a state of shock I left my fucking driver’s door wide open. I hop inside and start the eng
ine. It wouldn’t matter if they did. Everything in here can be replaced with something of equal value. My sister, on the other hand, will never be the same.

  Chapter 9

  No one can escape the past

  You can change your name, change your hair, and even change your face

  Yet, in the end, life will falter

  Releasing all the demons and haunting your very soul.

  Cassandra

  Once again, the shrieking of the alarm clock sitting on my nightstand awakens me. I roll over and punch the Snooze button, considering whoever is in charge of the invention of these things should be thanked for the convenience of them and then shot for the annoyance they bring. I guess it is better than waking up to a rooster crowing his lungs out or a hound dog howling because he needs to use the bathroom.

  “Oh, shit! I’m late again!” I groan without moving my fingers from the silver button.

  “Just go back to sleep, Kid. The damage is already done. Your mom isn’t coming for you. She sees you for what you really are, a disappointment.” He stands from the old rocking chair located in the corner, crossing the room with a horrific grin on his face. Instinctively, I inhale, but a huge weight stops my lungs from fully expanding, and panic sets in as I desperately struggle for air. One, two, skip a few, ninety-nine, a hundred. Breathe in...Breathe out...I pray for both the strength to fight him off and the power to live.

  “Cassandra? Are you okay? Wake up. You’re scaring the hell out of me! It’s just a dream, love, only a dream. Please, wake up!” a familiar voice coaxes, pulling me from my nightmare.

  Unknown surroundings and unfamiliar noises pound at full force around me, taking over every coherent thought and instilling a huge amount of fear in its place. Momentarily my eyes flutter open and find light, but quickly fall closed again as if begging to fall back asleep.

  A gust of cold wind swirls around me and chills my already sweat-dampened skin. The dream was so real. It was like a dream within a dream. I straighten my legs, trying to reposition myself and fall to my knees as soon as my feet touch the ground. Pain jolts me awake and forces my eyes to reopen. “Damn, that’s a lot of blood,” I cry, wiping the gravel from the wound. Lucas curses under his breath, and he scoops me from the ground.

  “Are you okay, love? I didn’t mean to startle you. Here, hold this on there. It will help stop the bleeding.” He hands me his shirt, and I hold it to my knee as he has instructed, letting my free hand roam his chiseled chest. He starts walking toward my apartment complex, but he stops just shy of the black and white awning.

  “Cassandra, as good as that feels, if you don’t stop, I won’t be able to walk.” He smiles down at me with a gleam of playfulness in his eyes. “A man can only walk if he’s using two legs, not three. And as much as I clearly enjoy it, I need you to stop, so we can clean out that wound.”

  “Oh,” I purr as I lightly trace his collarbone with my fingers one last time and then force myself to stop.

  “Where are your keys?”

  “They are in my pocket, but Lucas, I can walk. I promise. I just wasn’t awake earlier. I’m good now, see?” Carefully, I bend my knee as much as possible while in his arms, proving my logic.

  “Fine, but you’re still going to hold on to me for support.” He exhales loudly and puts me down onto my feet, leaving one arm around my waist like he would a drunken friend who just polished off a bottle.

  “I’m sorry about your shirt, and that I fell asleep,” I say and cautiously remove his shirt from my knee, noticing the bleeding has completely stopped. “Shit, I’m sorry for everything, but I’ve never done this. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” I move my hand, motioning from Lucas to myself. “I mean, sure, I have been erratic as long as I can remember, but I can’t seem to shut up around you.”

  Stopping a few feet away from my apartment door, he removes his hand from the small of my back and cups my face. “Cassandra, listen to me. I know this is all overwhelming. It is for me, at least. This scares the shit out of me. We haven’t known each other long enough for me to feel how I feel about you, but that doesn’t make me feel it any less. You flow through my veins, flood my thoughts, and supply my lungs with air. Don’t ever regret who you are.” Lucas places a soft, brief kiss onto my lips and then exhales. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

  Just as we reach the final stair to my apartment door, I notice something white hanging on my doorknob. It is a note. Grabbing it, I gasp as I read: Hey, Kid, I hope all is going well with your new boy toy. You always were a little slut! I just wanted to let you know I haven’t forgotten that you are the reason I wake up in hell each day.

  “Oh, shit,” I curse under my breath, knowing whom the letter is from. Harold. Even though it doesn’t have a signature, there isn’t an ounce of doubt in my mind that it’s from him. He was too much of a prick to ever learn my name. Instead, he would generically call me ‘Kid’. How did he get a letter to me? Is he out?

  As I question every bit of rationality to which I’ve clung for so many years, a hard lump rises from my stomach into my throat. Clutching the letter in my fist, I reach for the gold knob and slowly lower myself to the floor. My head weaves back and forth with dizziness, and despite the amount of air I’m trying to pull into my lungs, it doesn’t appear to be enough. I close my dizzy eyes and concentrate on the pounding sound that grows louder with each constriction and release of my heart. Thud…Silence…Thud…Silence…

  A strange calm accompanies the lack of oxygen in my veins, and then blackness takes over.

  *****

  Opening my eyes, I scan the area and notice a shadow standing over me in the dark. “Please, not again. I can’t take anymore,” I desperately beg, hoping it’s enough to save me. Instantly, the shadow shifts, and I feel something on my face. “Leave me alone, you twisted fuck,” I say in a small panicky voice, swinging my fist with everything I have into the air.

  “Cassandra, calm down. I have no idea what the fuck to do! What’s wrong? Who was the letter from?” Lucas says frantically, and I realize I’ve made an ass of myself trying to punch him, again. He slowly eases himself onto the couch beside me and breathes out heavily.

  I’ve managed to avoid this subject with him so far, but as always, my luck has run out. At this point, I don’t see any other option than to explain. I ball my fists to my sides and take a deep breath inward, preparing myself for the inevitable. He will leave after I tell him. He won’t be able to stomach the sight of me knowing I’m despicable. After all, this is probably why Mom left and never came back.

  “Cassandra, for fuck’s sake, tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring the shit out of me,” he says in a defeated voice, pulling me tightly against his heaving chest. He begins to rock us back and forth methodically on the couch.

  “Lucas, I’m sorry. I, uh, I have no idea what to say, honestly.” I make an excuse, trying to stall a few minutes. At least in the darkness of the room, I can hide the guilt on my face. I won’t be able to see the judging disapproval I know will come from him after he knows the whole story. He could be different and understand, but apart from Dar, no one else has taken the news well. It’s always the same reaction.

  First, it is sympathy that causes their heart to ache, and then they conveniently have to leave because something has come up. Eventually, it’s a week, and you haven’t heard anything from them. Only to hear some lame excuse when you finally do. The calls get fewer and fewer until they’ve cut all contact, leaving you with a thousand unanswered questions.

  “Please try. I need you right now. I know it’s selfish, but I’ve never needed anything more. I just need one thing in my fucking life to be okay. Please?” He stops rocking and tips my chin up to look at him.

  “When I was sixteen, my mom had a boyfriend whom I thought was amazing. He was the first man who treated me like a human being, not a child. I didn’t know his intentions were sadistic when he asked me to get wasted with him one night, and we drank an entire bottle of my mom’s tequila
. I passed out shortly after the last shot and woke up to him raping me.”

  Lucas’ arms drop from around me as he grinds his teeth. I scoot off his lap and pull my knees to my chest for support. With a loud outward breath, I continue, fully aware if I don’t, I’ll never finish.

  “I tried to fight him off. That sick son of a bitch. I really did, but there was too much alcohol in my system. The tequila was the devil’s advocate, and Harold was the devil. After he stole the one thing I yearned to keep sacred, I began to hate myself. Well, I pretty much hated everything in my life, especially men. He tied me to the bedposts with rope. I didn’t know how long I was there before my mom found me.” Nervously, I cross my arms and run my fingertips up and down them. “I’m so sorry you have to hear this, Lucas. I really am. It’s my fault that my mother is gone. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. If I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to do that to me. My mom would still be here, and I wouldn’t be such a royal fuck up. I’m so, so sorry.”

  I don’t realize I’ve been crying until Lucas is holding my face and wiping away my tears with his thumbs, saying, “None of that was your fault. Recently, I’ve started questioning everything in this fucking world, but that is one thing I’m sure of.” He shakes his head back and forth as if trying to clear his mind. “Is the rope the cause of these?” He lightly runs his thumb along the scars around my ankles. I only nod my head, not wishing to go into more detail than necessary. “How do you know he wrote that letter?”

  “He called me ‘Kid,’ and I hated it.” Just hearing the name I’ve refused to say for years makes my insides quiver.

  My worst nightmare has come true. After so many years, I never imagined Harold could still break me, but he has. I thought I was stronger than this, and that he didn’t affect me anymore, yet here I am, crying and losing all control, falling apart from the seams. Maybe I’ve given myself too much credit, and I’m still sixteen in my mind and strapped to that fucking bed, never to be released.