Barely Breathing (53 page)

"Don't say that. You would have."

"I hate her, Sara," I rasped, my eyes blurring with tears. "I hate her so much." My voice broke, and I swallowed against the truth. Tears ran over my nose and onto the pillow. "I didn't want to see her, because... because I don't care if she's dead."

"Oh Emma," she cried, her blue eyes seeping in pain. "I don't believe that. You're angry. But I don't believe you'd want her dead."

I didn't say anything more. We lay silently, absorbing the torment in the other's eyes, eventually falling back into a restless sleep.

I felt responsible for what Sara had endured because of Rachel's selfishness. But I didn't feel remorse for what I'd told her. I really didn't care if my mother lived or died.

~~~~~

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Sara asked again with the bag in her hand.

I looked at Sara and her mother from my kneeling position on the kitchen floor, scooping up the congealed tomato and placing it on the cutting board on the table. "I'm sure. I'll finish picking up. I still need to throw out the food in the fridge."

"We'll see you back at the house after we go to the hospital," Anna told me with the last box from my bedroom in her arms.

"I won't be much longer."

After I picked up the salad ingredients Rachel had thrown all over the kitchen, I mindlessly washed the dishes and emptied the refrigerator.

I didn't look around when I left, just shut the door behind me and locked it. I tossed the trash bags in the cans on the side of the house and dragged them to the curb.

Instead of returning to Sara's empty house, I kept driving. I knew exactly where I was going, even though I wouldn't let myself consider why I was going there, or what might happen once I arrived.

I rang the buzzer and half hoped he wasn't home. My heart skipped a beat when the black metal door opened.

"Emma?" Jonathan scanned my face and instantly asked, "What happened?"

I took a breath. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." He backed up to let me pass.

I climbed the stairs with him behind me. I sat on the couch and he took a seat in the chair, anxiously awaiting my words.

"Rachel tried to kill herself last night," I revealed without any intonation in my voice.

Jonathan slowly nodded his head and lowered his eyes. He looked back up at me and told me, "Don't feel guilty."

My eyes scrunched in confusion, not certain if I’d heard him correctly.

"For not caring... you shouldn't feel guilty."

My eyes instantly glossed over, knowing the real reason I’d driven here―because he understood. My throat tightened.

"I feel so horrible. What kind of person am I? I mean, she's my mother―"

"No she's not. She never was," he countered softly. "Emma, she wasn't even close to being your mother. You have every right to hate her."

I bowed my head in my hands and sobbed―each gasp sending a wave of pain through my body. I wrapped my arms around my ribs, to no avail. I couldn't stop crying.

Jonathan moved next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong, Emma. It was her choice, not yours. You didn't make her do it."

"I told her to," I choked, tilting my head up at him.

"So," he responded, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "It was her pain, not yours, that made her do it."

"But I wish," I stuttered, "I wish she were dead. Then maybe she'd stop hurting, and stop hurting me." I tried to continue but couldn't catch my breath. "That's so horrible. I'm so―"

"No," he soothed, pulling me to rest my head on his shoulder, gently rubbing my back. "She hurt you, Emma, over and over again. You can let her go now. Don't let her hurt you anymore."

I fought for my breath in the crook of his neck, letting him comfort me in his arms. It wasn't until I was able to calm enough to think straight that I realized it was not where I should be. I lifted my head, and his hand was on my cheek, wiping my tears. And then his soft lips were on mine.

I jumped up and stumbled back, shaking my head. "I can't."

Jonathan bent his head with a slow exhale. "I don't understand."

He looked up at me, and his eyes connected with mine, so exposed and vulnerable. My heart ached at the intensity of their emotion. I wiped my cheeks, and shook my head again. "I can't."

"You should ask yourself why you can't, Emma," he said calmly, pulling his eyes away, making me want to crumble in misery. "Is it because you don't feel it? You're here, so you must feel something. You can't deny that, no matter how hard you try."

I shook my head, not in denial, but in confusion―not knowing why I was compelled to see him. I thought it was because I knew he'd understand. But I could have just called him. I didn't have to be here, to see him in person.

I couldn't think straight.

"You've been through a lot in the past week," he whispered, his dark brown eyes peering through me, seeing more than I ever intended. "So you should just wait. Wait until everything settles. Okay?"

I didn't say anything, not certain what he was asking of me.

"We have this connection, and it's crazy," he explained. "I don't know how to give it up, do you?"

I shook my head, unable to speak because I knew it was true.

"It's going to be okay, Emma, I promise. We'll figure this out."

"Okay," I whispered. I released a quick breath and said, "I should go."

"I know."

I approached the stairs, my knees weak. I turned back toward him and said, "Jonathan, thank you... for understanding."

"I'm always here for you, Emma," he smiled gently. I guided my way down the stairs, barely able to stand, not feeling that much better than when I’d arrived. Then again, I wasn't sure what I was feeling at all.

42. Something To Hold On To

You asked why I stayed when I had every reason to leave ~ I stayed for you. I was drawn to you almost instantly without really understanding what was happening. I will always be here for you, Emma.

I thought I caught a glimpse of his blue pickup truck in the bustle of the parking lot—amidst the cars trying to position for spots and bodies not getting out of their way. I stretched my head around a group of guys in letter jackets to get a better view.

"What are you looking at?" Sara asked a few feet ahead of me, stopping when she realized I wasn't beside her. The guys began walking toward the school, and what I thought was his truck was a Tahoe. I released my breath and turned away.

"Nothing," I said, catching up with her.

Sara tightened her eyes skeptically. I tried to smile, but it felt foreign on my face, having not done it very much in the last couple of weeks.

"Do you know what we need?" Her eyes lit up at just the thought.

"What?" I asked, not certain if I should encourage the mischievous glint in her eye.

"We need a senior skip day," she exclaimed as we spotted Evan a few rows ahead of us. He raised his chin in recognition when he saw us and waited for us to reach him.

"But don't we have one in two weeks?"

"That's
planned.
The entire senior class is skipping that day. What's the fun in that?” Sara scoffed with a shake of her head. "Emma, you're in need of some serious spontaneity. We have to pick a day sooner, to rid of the distractions and just have a good time. A
much needed
good time."

"I could use that," I sighed. I'd been fighting with more distractions than I could handle, including the Sunday I'd gone to see Jonathan―which I couldn't stop thinking about. Or the text he sent the next day, that I’d read every day since. I was in desperate need to rid myself of that distraction in particular, and clear my head.

"What do you need?" Evan asked overhearing us. He slid his hand in mine.

"A skip day," Sara declared proudly. "Just the four of us!"

"Four?" I questioned.

"Jared," Sara explained. "How about this Friday? It's supposed to be so nice and Jared will be here for Evan's birthday. We'll go to the beach."

"I don't know if it's quite beach weather," Evan returned.

"Who cares," Sara shot back, already beaming from the idea. "We don't have to wear bathing suits. We'll have a picnic and build sand castles and play catch or whatever. Don't try to ruin our skip day, Evan!"

Evan chuckled and held up his free hand in defense. "Okay, Sara. Friday is our skip day. It'll be great."

"Of course it will."

I grinned at her enthusiasm as she almost bounced her way to our lockers. I turned to Evan as he was about to part ways toward his. He bent down and kissed me briefly. "Will you come over after my game today?" he murmured in my ear.

"Sure," I smiled, letting go of his hand and watching him walk away.

I was still relishing the tingle of his breath against my ear when I opened my locker to gather my books.

"I don't think you should wait until prom," Sara mused, eyeing me with a smirk. "The two of you
need
to have sex more than any two people I know."

"Sara!" I exclaimed, looking around in a panic to see who may have overheard.

"Just sayin'," she smirked again and walked away.

My cheeks flushed, I rolled my eyes and turned back toward my locker.

"I'm going to shower," Evan told me as we parked in his driveway. "Where do you want to wait for me?"

"I'll meet you in the barn," I replied, opening the car door. My phone chimed as I reached the steps leading to the rec room. I was about to press the ignore button, as I had for the previous three calls that day. Then it beeped twice indicating the missed call, followed by a text.

Emma, please talk to me. Please.

I stared down at my phone. His plea felt like a weight in my chest. I hadn't stopped thinking about him since I'd left him that day. But I didn't really know what it was I was thinking... or feeling. I kept avoiding him, afraid of what emotions his voice would conjure up. But I couldn't keep doing this to him... or to me.

I sat down on the couch and took a deep breath, listening to the phone ring on the other end.

"Hi," he answered quickly.

"Hi," I returned, my heart beating profusely. "I'm sorry I haven't called."

"I'm sorry I keep calling," he replied. "It's just hard, not hearing from you, especially after talking to you almost every day."

"I know. It's been hard for me too."

"I got a little scared. I thought maybe... maybe you didn't need me anymore. You know, now that Rachel's not around and―"

"Don't say that," I interrupted. "I've wanted to call, to talk to you, but... I didn't know what to say. What you expected me to say."

"Emma, I don't expect anything. I just want you to be honest, that's all." After a pause, my mind trying to understand what he was asking of me, he filled the silence with, "How have you been sleeping?"

I laughed lightly at the question. "Pretty well actually. Maybe you did cure me, or I just don't care anymore. How about you? Is the nightmare gone?"

"It comes back every once in a while."

"So you've been sleeping too," I concluded.

"I wouldn't say that," he countered. "I keep waking up, afraid I missed your call. So... not sleeping that great."

"I'm sorry," I offered again, my voice heavy with guilt.

"It's okay," he dismissed easily. "When can I see you? I think we should... talk. There's so much I need to say to you, and I don't want to do it over the phone."

"Uh," I delayed, a streak of nerves shot through my chest. "I'm not sure." I jumped at the sound of the door closing at the bottom of the stairs. "I should go. Someone's coming."

"Emma," he called to me. I stared at the stairs waiting for Evan to appear, still listening. "I know you're confused right now, but I've missed us, you know, our talks―being able to share what no one else understands. I don't want to lose that, to lose you."

"I don't either," I murmured, watching the stairs. Then I heard the door close again. "And we will talk. I promise. But I should go." I hung up and sunk into the couch, having a hard time catching my breath after hearing his voice. I missed talking to him. But I’d known ever since he kissed me, it wouldn't be the same between us. I never wanted this―for him to feel this way. It scared me.

After everything we'd been through, all the nights sharing and revealing what no one else knew, I couldn't deny that there was something between us. I felt it the first night he stayed up with me. Our horrific lives and recurring nightmares bonded us in a way that was difficult to explain.

But I also believed there was something more to what kept him up at night. Something he couldn't yet face himself. The source of all the fury that waited to be unleashed with the slightest trigger. The thought of it made my pulse race.

I closed my eyes to try to calm my thoughts and push it all away―the intensity in his eyes, the confidence in his words... the touch of his lips.

"Emma?"

I opened my eyes with a start to find Analise in the doorway. I didn't hear her coming up the stairs. Her lips were drawn tight, not her usual bubbly self. I remained frozen, cautious of her serious disposition. From the grim look on her face, I began to wonder if she'd overheard our call. My face flushed with the thought.

"Evan's in the shower," I said, trying to sound composed.

"I know," she replied simply. "I wanted to talk to you."

I held my breath.

"I never told anyone about what I saw, you know," she revealed, taking a few steps into the room but not getting any closer. My eyes flickered in confusion, so she explained, "That night you were hurt. I was at the house, helping Vivian." I nodded, not wanting her to recount the entire story. "That was when I realized how much he loved you."

I swallowed hard and glanced down at my phone. I quickly shoved it in my pocket, as if it were branding my hand with guilt.

"I'd hoped he didn't," she stated flatly. I puckered my lips to ask what she meant, but she didn't let me speak. "You're not the easiest person to like. You're pretty depressing most of the time. I didn't think you deserved him."