Reason to Breathe (Breathing 1) - Page 40

“No, I’m sure she’ll just accuse me of whatever lie she decides on, insult me a lot, and send me to my room.” I looked up at Sara and realized I couldn’t let her know how truly terrified I was to go home. I pushed the fear away so I could put on a reassuring face for Sara’s sake.

I propped myself up to sit against the headboard.

“I really freaked out, huh?” I tried to let out a laugh, but it sounded wrong.

“Em, you were so pale, I was afraid you might pass out.”

“I thought for sure that she saw us, that’s all. I was expecting her to confront me and didn’t know if I could face her.” I was hoping to downplay my paralyzed reaction in the car.

“My mom offered to try talking to her,” Sara stated half-heartedly.

“You know that won’t work,” I replied, trying to control the panic in my voice.

“I know,” Sara agreed with a defeated breath.

“I can’t believe I reacted like that,” I blurted, replaying my horrified reaction in my head. “Evan’s probably wondering what the hell’s wrong with me.”

“He’s just worried,” Sara tried to soothe me. “He doesn’t think any less of you, honestly.”

I took a deep breath, trying to regain control over my quivering body before Sara noticed. What I couldn’t tell her was that if her mom called, it would be the worst thing that could happen. What I couldn’t show her was that I was petrified and didn’t know how I was going to walk into that house in the morning. I knew Carol didn’t need proof that I disobeyed her. She just had to believe I did.

~~~~~

I sat straight up, heaving and covered in sweat. I looked around the room, trying to place where I was. I recognized Sara and eased my fists from their white knuckled grip of the blanket.

“You sounded like you couldn’t breathe.”

“Just a nightmare,” I explained, trying to relax my erected posture. “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty,” she reported, still concerned by my appearance. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I really don’t remember it,” I lied. “You should get some more sleep. I’m going to take a shower, okay?”

The smell of the earth still lingered in my nose as did the burn in my lungs from the weight of the dirt on my body, pressing the air out of my chest. I shivered and pushed the nightmare away.

Sara didn’t go back to sleep. She was on her bed, waiting for me with a silver box in her lap.

“This was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but I can’t wait another month.” Her face was too serious to be presenting a gift.

“It’s not as big of a deal as you think, but I really need you to have it before you go home today.”

Her choice of words struck me. I glanced at the silver package with apprehension. Sara handed it to me with a stiff smile.

“Thanks.” I tried to smile back, but couldn’t get past her odd behavior.

I opened the box and unwrapped the tissue paper, and a silver cell phone fell onto my hand. Why was Sara so uncomfortable giving it to me?

“Thank you, Sara. This is so great. Is this a prepaid phone?” I asked, trying to sound as happy with the gift as I was.

“It’s actually on my family’s plan. Don’t worry; it didn’t cost anything to add you.”

“Wow, that’s perfect. I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to use it, but this is so great.” I was genuinely appreciative, but her cautious tone kept me from being able to express it. Then I found out why.

“You have to promise to call me when you get home and let me know that you’re okay,” she requested delicately. “If I don’t hear from you by the end of the day, I’m calling the police.”

“Sara,” I implored, “don’t do that. I promise you, I’ll be fine.”

“Then call me,” she pleaded. “I have phone numbers already programmed.” She showed me how to quick dial her cell and her home phone. There were two other numbers set in the memory as well.

“911, really Sara?” I questioned incredulously. “You don’t think I could manage that one on my own?”

“One button is faster than four,” she explained with a slight grin. I pulled up the fourth number and looked up at Sara in disbelief. She shrugged with a small smile.

“I set the ringer to vibrate so no one will hear it in your room. There’s a charger in the box too.”

“Sara, I’m not having it on in my house,” I stated emphatically.

“You have to. I swear I won’t call you, and no one else has the number. You have to promise me that you’ll have it on.” Her request sounded so desperate, I couldn’t argue.

“Okay, I promise.” I decided to keep it in the inner pocket of my jacket so it wouldn’t be accidentally discovered. “We should get going.”

I didn’t know how I convinced my body to cooperate and walk down the stairs with my bag in my hand. But my legs failed to move when I opened the front door and saw the Jeep parked on the side of the street.

“Oh, Emma,” Sara whispered in alarm behind me.

“Hi Sara,” Carol bellowed with sickening charm. “I was driving home from my mother’s and thought I’d pick up Emily on the way. Thank you for letting her stay with you.” I felt Sara squeeze my arm, her panic was obvious. I kept staring at the woman with the wide smile, unable to breathe.

“Come on, Emily, don’t just stand there.” I stumbled down the front stairs, afraid to look back at Sara, but feeling the weight of the cell phone in my jacket pocket. I let the car devour me as I shut the passenger door, staring straight ahead. My body tightened and shrunk away from her, trapped in the confined space.

Silence stung my ears, as I waited for her words, her accusations and insults. But there was nothing. Then again, she didn’t need words when my head collided against the side window with a sudden thrust of her hand. My head rung with an involuntary grunt of pain.

“You don’t breathe unless I tell you you can. You seem to have forgotten whose house you’re living in. You’ve pushed it too fucking far, and it’s over. Don’t go behind my back again.”

We were pulling into the driveway before I could let her words sink in.

When we entered the kitchen, Amanda, our thirteen year old neighbor, said left the kids playing upstairs and went home.

I continued down the hall and stopped, staring at the door leading to my room. The door was closed, and it was never closed when I wasn’t home – one of Carol’s irrational rules. I approached slowly and cautiously pushed the door open, letting out a defeated breath. I faltered through the doorway, looking around in horrified dismay.

The closet door stood ajar, and the crawl space in the back was a vacant hole. Remnants of what it once protected were spewed at me feet.

“You think you’re so smart,” Carol accused. My back tensed as every nerve hummed beneath my skin. I turned to find her leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed, and I instinctively took a couple steps back, my bag sliding from my shoulder, dropping to the floor.

“I can see right through you, and you’re not going to divide us.” I was perplexed, unable to make sense of her accusations. “He will always choose me. I wanted to remind you of that.”

“Carol,” I heard George yell anxiously from the back door.

“I’m here,” Carol hollered back with a distraught voice. She backed away from my door and caught George in an embrace. I watched the drama unfold, unable to predict the ending.

“George, I don’t know what got into her,” Carol flailed, burying her head in his shoulder. George attempted to peer around Carol to see into my room. “She burst in yelling that she’s tired of being here, and how horrible we are to her. Then she locked herself in her room. That’s when I called you. She was scaring me and the kids.”

What?! What was she doing?

“I finally convinced her to open the door and … well, you can see for yourself.” Carol released him from her desperate grasp, allowing George to enter. His concern changed to anger as he viewed the repercussions of my rage.

He looked from the destruction of my things to my stunned face and back down again. I thought I caught him wince when he saw the shattered glass and torn picture of him and his brother crushed on the floor. I couldn’t move as I watched his anger grow.

“What did you do?” he bellowed. “How could you do this?” My mouth dropped, shocked by his reaction. How could he think I did this? His face turned red as he scanned my torn canvases, along with shreds of smiles and small chubby baby hands and feet strewn everywhere.

George moved to me before I could react. He grabbed my arms and started shaking me. He struggled with the words between his clenched teeth, gripping my arms tighter. The tears flowed down my cheeks as I tried to speak.

“I…,” I wept.

I was interrupted with a startling sting on my cheek. The force knocked me to the floor. I grabbed the spot where his hand had connected and looked down at the floor, stunned.

“If you weren’t my brother’s daughter, I’d…” he began. I tilted my head up toward him. His face was so red, it was almost purple as he shook with fury. Behind the rage, I thought I recognized sadness in his eyes. “You are not going anywhere for the next week. No sports, no newspaper, nothing. I cannot believe you did this!”

His sorrow broke through when he murmured, “He was my brother.” Carol watched him leave in confusion, or perhaps it was disappointment when his reaction wasn’t as severe as she’d intended. As soon as he disappeared, she peered down at me and grinned in contempt.

“This is not over,” she threatened. “Clean this up, and get your chores done before I get home.”

She shut the door, leaving me with the destruction of her hate. Everything I had that was mine - that was truly mine - was in pieces around me. I picked up the images of my parents and baby pictures of me and tried to find a way to fit them together. I let the broken pieces fall through my fingers and collapsed into a fit of tears. This pain was sharper than any slap or blow. She had taken the evidence that there was a time when I was happy and obliterated it, leaving only the memories.

I sat up when I heard a knock and looked to the door, but the sound wasn’t right – it was more of a tapping. I looked around and found that it was coming from the window. No, please don’t tell me. I closed my eyes as the tap hit the window again. I wiped my face and rushed to open the window before the tapping repeated, and they heard it.

“You can’t be here,” I whispered desperately.

“What happened? I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Evan, leave.” My voice was urgent as I pleaded with him to go.

“Why is your face red? Did he hit you?”

“You can’t be here,” I stressed. “Please, please just go.” Tears rolled down my cheeks as I frantically looked from his face to the door, expecting it to open at any minute.

Tags: Rebecca Donovan Breathing Romance
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