Breathe

by Amber Lacie

  Chapter 6

  Yellow. It is supposed to be gold, but my graduation gown looks yellow. It is hideous. I look like a giant jar of mustard. My makeup is perfected, my hair is curled and falling around my shoulders, my cap is centered on my head with the tassel hanging just right, and it all belongs to me, yet I can’t see myself in the mirror. Someone else stands before me. I am not sure who she is anymore, but every time I see the impostor I die a little more on the inside. Numb. There must be a better word to describe how I feel, but all I can think of is numb.

  Sighing, I push my closet door shut and the full-length mirror disappears with it. I never liked it anyways. My eyes flash around at the cardboard boxes now filling my room. Everything I need is packed and ready to go. It has been a week since I told my dad that I was leaving. I don’t know if he heard me or not. The only reaction I got was an incoherent mumble and the raise of a brown liquor bottle in the air. My mind and body are itching for the freedom Lafayette will bring. Michael is skipping the ceremony to load his truck. We argued about it for a week, but once his mind is set, there is no changing it. Mrs. Dr. Michael Bradshaw. I keep repeating it to myself. Everything will be fine. His family has more than enough money to help support us while he is in college. I have tossed around the idea of taking a few art classes at Purdue, but I haven’t brought it up to him, yet. I fear that he wouldn’t approve and avoiding another fight seems best.

  Chaos has surrounded me ever since prom. Holden won’t talk to me, but I can feel his glares on my skin whenever he is close. Rebecca is avoiding me like the plague. Noelle won’t leave me alone. All she does is talk and pop her gum. There have been many times over the past few weeks where I have contemplated keeping her around. I am not sure when we became friends. Was she Rebecca’s friend first, or mine? I just always remember her being there. She just was. If I lose Noelle, I won’t have any friends left other than Michael, which scares me more than I am willing to admit. I guess I will keep her around a bit longer.

  My fingers smooth the edges of the silk gown down. The white summer dress I have on is completely covered by this ugly monstrosity. The alarm clock beside my bed chirps, letting me know that it is now five o’clock. Time to go. Grabbing my purse, I double check to make sure I have the keys to my truck. The metal clinks in my fingers. I am all set to go. This is it. Taking soft steps down the stairs, I bite back the tears suddenly wanting to rush from my eyes. My dad is asleep on the couch with his shirt untucked, one shoe on, and his tie loosely hanging from his wrist. I guess this means I am on my own. He couldn’t even stay sober long enough to watch me graduate.

  The screen door creaks one last time as my fingers press into it, softly opening the door. The heavy sound of footsteps echo around me as I walk across the wooden front porch and down the three steps leading to the gravel driveway where my truck is parked. None of this feels real. None of this feels like me. My body is moving, but my mind is long gone. The sound of my truck door slamming awakens me, just enough for me to focus on the task at hand. The engine roars to life as I turn the key. The whispers of freedom spill through the exhaust pipe. In just two hours I will be on my way to Lafayette, following the man who saved me from myself.

  *****

  The parking lot is almost full. There are a few spaces left in the very back row and my truck is now filling one. Grabbing my purse, I flash my eyes to my rear-view mirror, making sure my smile is ready. Let’s do this. My feet hit the cement. When I was younger, I used to count the steps as I walked into the gym to attend pep rallies for the football team. Everything was so exciting then. Now, as I walk in I am counting backwards. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven more steps to go. I will take my seat next to my peers, listen to the smartest kid in the school drone on about how everything is only going to get better from here, and then my feet will grace the stage. Ninety-six, ninety-five, ninety-four.

  Loud cheers surround me, pulling me out of my daze. I blink, as my mind becomes awake. It’s over. I don’t remember any of it, but my diploma is in my hand and hats are flying in the air. I completely blacked out the entire ceremony. The celebration around me has me laughing and cheering right along with them. Freedom. It is at my fingertips. It is over.

  My feet quickly lead me back down the long halls and towards the parking lot where my truck is patiently waiting for me. “Carsten. Damn it. Stop.” A loud, fiery voice crackles in the air around me. My body halts to a stop as if it has hit a brick wall. “Carsten, please. I have tried to talk to you all night and you just walk away from me. Are you even listening? Please, just wait.” Turning around, I come face to face with Rebecca. Her red hair is flared out like angry flames.

  “I stopped.”

  “Yeah. I see that. What the fuck is wrong with you? No using your mom as an excuse anymore, either. I love you. You’re my friend, my best friend. I just…I want you to know that I love you and whatever has happened is just that. It’s something that has happened, but I want to ignore it. I want to go back to when we would stay up late watching movies all night, tossing popcorn in the air, and trying to catch it with our mouths.” Something flutters briefly over her face. Anger? Hatred?

  “I have to…I just have to–” What am I supposed to tell her? She won’t understand. Hell, I don’t understand any of this. It is beyond crazy.

  “Cars, no you don’t. Sit with me, talk to me, hit me, or whatever it is you need to do. But I’m not leaving until I know you are okay.”

  “I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, like I’m suffocating. The air has left my lungs and I’m slowly dying. I need to get out of here and make a new start, a new beginning where pity doesn’t follow me. I need to be able to breathe without it hurting.” The words fall from my mouth in a quick huff, before I even realize that I have said them.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me? I love you and so does Holden. I get it. You need to go, so go, but did you tell him goodbye?”

  “No. I can’t. I’ll never be able to leave. He’ll ask me to stay. I can’t say no to him. You know that.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Do what you need to do…just do me a favor, while you are running away trying to find yourself, ask yourself one question. Why do you think you can’t say no to him? There has to be a reason.” Rebecca’s arm wrap around me, pulling me into a tight squeeze. My arms encircle her waist and I breathe in her radiant personality one last time. “Come visit us. We won’t bite, at least not unless you ask us to.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She releases her hold on me, steps back, and with a small wave turns around, heading back to the celebration. I don’t bother asking myself the question. I know the answer will leave me in this small town suffocating for a release, which will never come. Turning around, I head out to the parking lot to find Michael’s truck parked next to mine.

  “Everything is loaded, baby. You ready to go? You ready to blow this town?” His long frame stretched out in front of him as he leans against the tailgate.

  “Absolutely.” He opens my door for me. I slide into the driver’s seat, grab my keys from my purse, and start my truck. It rumbles to life. I put it into drive and follow Michael out of town.

  *****

  We have been driving for two hours now. My lungs are inflating completely. Air is moving in and out and yet for some reason, I don’t feel as if I am really breathing. I do, however feel the freedom from escaping the life that was holding me back.

  Following Michael’s lead, I turn into an apartment complex. Yellow brick buildings with black shutters around the windows line the streets. Each one looks the same. Bicycles, flowerpots, and colorful flowered wreaths hanging on the door are the only things identifying one apartment from the next. I pull up beside Michael as he parks in front of a building with large numbers on it. Two hundred twenty-two Hartford Boulevard. This must be it.

  I watch through my window, as he steps out of his truck, unlocks the big black door in the center, and disappears. It is just a few seconds before he is back outside
again. Grabbing a brick from the landscaping along the front of the building, he uses it as a doorstopper to prop open the door.

  Slowly opening my door, I step out of my truck and take in my new surroundings. This is it. This is our home. No death, no drunks, and no broken promises.

  “Baby, you ready for this? We are up the stairs in Apartment C. You’ll love it. I have everything set up and I have made room for all your clothes already. There’s two bedrooms, ours is the largest. I turned the other one into an office of sorts. I have been using it as a study room for now. We can unpack and then order some pizza. A few guys from the frat will be by soon. They will help with some of the bigger boxes.”

  I stare blankly at Michael, as he rambles on about our new apartment and the amazing life we are going to lead. I black out most of the conversation and begin moving boxes inside. He continues to talk the entire time we are unloading the truck. He doesn’t stop until his friends arrive to help. Thank the Gods for them. I leave them to their fate of endless chatter and make my way inside with the last box on my hip.

  I drop it on our floor and turn my head from side to side, taking in my new home. Stark white walls stare back at me. The living room is plain, except for the dark green couch in the middle of it. There is a white stand in the corner holding a rather large black television. The Nintendo gaming system has already been plugged in and the controllers are strewn about the brown shag carpet in a knotted mess. The kitchen is to the right of me, tucked into a corner. It is small, but big enough to fit a small table in the corner. It is just the two of us, so we won’t need much room.

  The bedrooms are behind me. The spare bedroom is the first door you see when you walk into the apartment. The bathroom is located just to the right of the spare bedroom, at the end of the small hallway. Light yellow tinted tiles adorn the floor and scale halfway up the walls coming to an abrupt stop where it hits an off-white painted stripe wrapping around the room. The room is small with only a small white toilet, a pedestal sink, and a shower in the corner, there is no room for a tub. The master bedroom is directly behind me, as I stand in the living room trying to picture my life in these naked rooms.

  Picking up the last box on the floor beside me, I turn and head into our bedroom. I don’t think it is any bigger than the other bedroom, but he swears it is. At least, this one has a private balcony looking out into the flower garden between the buildings.

  His friends join me upstairs, moving furniture wherever Michael dictates. He says he is trying to get a feel for the room. The only thing I am starting to feel is annoyed. I order some pizza for everyone. By the time it arrives, everything is sorted and put away. The only box I haven’t opened is the one my dad gave me, full of my mom’s things. I can picture him clearly, standing in my bedroom just two days after I told him that I was leaving.

  *****

  “Are you leaving because of me? Is it because I’m not taking care of you?” He is pacing in front of my closet, running his fingers through his thinning hair. I wish he would just stay still for a moment, just long enough for me to be able to read his face. “It is. Oh God. I have failed as a father and don’t you shake your head ‘no’ at me. Just look at me. I don’t remember the last time that I have showered, let alone spoke to you about school or your life, or just anything.”

  “Daddy, stop. I’m leaving because Purdue is a good school. They have an art program. If I live there for a year before I register, then I’ll be able to claim residency and I won’t have to stay in a dorm. I don’t have money for that. We don’t have money for that. Let me try to sort out my life and put it back on track. Please?”

  He stops pacing to look at me. I can see the hurt in his eyes. “You want to make it better. What will you do there?”

  Looking down at my fingers twisting in my lap, I try my best to explain myself. “I don’t know. We’ve talked about me just taking the summer off and looking for a job in the fall. Maybe something part time? I’m not sure, but I want to go. They have an art program.” I feel like a serpent slipping in the art program as a reason for him to let me go. They have a great one, and I’d love to go, but I have no plans on attending. He doesn’t need to know that.

  “Art? You’re thinking of taking art back up? Oh, Firefly. That sounds wonderful.” His voice drops to a soft whisper, as he sits on the foot of my bed handing me a small wooden box with a heart carved into the top. “These were your mom’s things. It’s just some old scarves, jewelry, and stuff she liked to wear. I thought you might like them…Take them with you to Lafayette. Go to art school. Become famous. I’ll be here whenever you come back. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.” With a squeeze of my hand, he stands and leaves me to be with the box.

  *****

  “Carsten?”

  “What?” The box falls from my fingers, as I turn around to face Michael. I don’t even remember picking it up.

  “Jesus. Quit doing that. What are my friends going to think if you keep zoning out on us?”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired. It’s just so much at once.”

  “It’s fine, babe. Take a nap. I’ll check on you in a bit.” I watch him with curiosity, as he walks out of our room. I set the box down on the nightstand. Something isn’t right, but I can’t tell what it is. My brain feels foggy, nothing is clear. My thoughts are slipping together, colliding in a mudslide. Suddenly, my whole body feels incredibly heavy. Lying down on the bed, I pull the pillows under my head, while staring at the glass of water on the dresser across the room. I don’t remember drinking it. What is the bottle beside it? The stress of everything seems to crash down on me, as I close my eyes.

  My eyes peel open from my pounding headache. The room is dimly lit. How long have I been asleep? It takes me a second to focus on the room and remember where I am. My eyes focus in on the glass of water on the dresser. I could have sworn there was a bottle beside it, but there is nothing there now. I press the palms of my hands against my eyes. I feel like I am losing my mind. I can’t remember anything clearly. Sitting up, I notice Michael at the end of the bed, spinning the small amber colored bottle in his hand. “I knew you were taking something to help you cope. I didn’t realize you had a problem.”

  What is he talking about? “I don’t have a problem. I haven’t taken anything in a few days.”

  “Then what’s this? Why were you in here passed out?” His fingers hold up my prescription for Valium. I honestly don’t remember taking them, but I don’t remember much of anything from today. I try to sort through my thoughts. Those are my pills, but did I take one? Were they in my purse? I know I was looking through it earlier, maybe I took them then. Why is everything so foggy?

  “I don’t remember.” My lips are sticking to my teeth as I try to talk. Swallowing, I try to wet my throat, but it’s of no use.

  His shoulders begin to shake as his voice cracks. “I love you, just be honest with me. I don’t want to lose you.” Is he crying?

  “I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me. I have been so stressed. I must’ve taken some and forgot. Please, Michael. I hate taking medicine. You know it’s not my deal.” How could I forget something so important? Once again, I have hurt someone.

  “I worry about you. I’m going to put these up. You won’t need them now. Do you need anything?”

  “Just something to drink.” His long arms stretch over to the dresser, grabbing the glass of water. My fingers wrap around the glass as I chug the ice-cold water, letting it coat every bit of the desert growing in my mouth. Taking the glass from me, he pulls me towards him as his arms encircle my waist. The sound of his heart beating thumps in my ears. I can hear every breath he is taking as I sit curled up in his lap. I feel calm, loved, safe. My fingers softly brush against his arms. A loud sigh leaves his chest.

  The next thing I know, the room spins, while my body is lifted and then slammed onto the mattress. I’m lying on my back with one arm twisted above my head, my fingers which were just tracing the details o
f his forearm are now bent almost completely back. Michael’s free hand runs up my stomach under my shirt, tugging my breast.

  “I own you! You will eat, sleep, and breathe me! You’ll do as I say, when I say it. Don’t question me, and I’ll be damned if you take anymore drugs.” His knee presses into the mattress between my legs, spreading them apart. My fingers scream in pain, as he bends them further back. His hand slides further up my body wrapping his long, rough fingers around my neck. I try my best to buck him off with my hips, while I try to push him away from me with my free hand. My fingers dig into his skin trying to pry them from my neck.

  SNAP! I scream, he laughs.

  SNAP! I bellow out in pain while he continues to laugh.

  The grip he has on my neck tightens, as he lets go of my other hand and lowers his face towards mine. His words grind against his teeth, spit sprays from his lips, stinging my cheeks. “Do it. Run. Scream. Try your best to get away from me. You’ll never make it. If I can break your fingers this easily, just think what I could do to you with a little more time. Hush now. Don’t make a sound. I’m going to fuck you, and then I’ll fix your fingers. Don’t move them. Keep them there. Hush now.”

  I do as I am told. Whoever I thought he might be, is completely gone. It doesn’t take long for his sweaty body to pull off mine, leaving me frozen in fear. True to his word, he sets my fingers into splints wrapping them tightly, before kissing my forehead and walking out of the room.

  Naïve, young, ignorant, blind…there are a lot of ways you could describe someone who makes poor choices. How do you explain someone who makes those choices knowing the risks they are taking? Brave? Stupid? Only one word would perfectly describe my choice of moving here with Michael, and brave isn’t it. I have regretted this decision since my foot hit the gas pedal on my truck, but I can’t go back now. It is too late. They say you never truly know a person until you live with them. I wonder how long it takes exactly to truly know someone? A day, a month, or maybe a year? I learned in one day what Michael was in his true form. Evil.