Barely Breathing (48 page)

When I turned onto Decatur Street, I slowed to a crawl, just in case. I came to a sudden stop when her car appeared in the driveway, and quickly put my car in reverse. I huffed in frustration as I backed away, knowing I needed my shirt by tomorrow morning. But the last thing I wanted was another confrontation, or a
Twilight Zone
conversation where she pretended nothing was wrong.

As expected, Casey didn't think twice about where I'd spent the night. Instead, she went on about the great party I'd missed. I'd only gotten a few hours of sleep on Jonathan's couch, so I was pretty out of it most of the day. She didn't seem to notice.

I had every intention of returning to Rachel's that night, in hopes that she'd be out doing what she did best on a Friday night―but I never made it that far.

"Emma, you can sleep in the guest room," Casey's voice cut through my head. I opened my eyes to find her standing above me with the movie still playing in the background.

"Sorry," I offered. "I'm so pathetic today, I know. I'm just really tired."

"It's okay," Casey returned. "I didn't expect us to go to a party or anything. Besides, I'm pretty tired from last night too. I'll see you in the morning?"

"Yeah," I told her, dragging my feet to the guestroom. My phone chimed as I was about to slide under the covers. I didn't look to see who was calling as I put it to my ear, "Hello?"

"Hi," Evan said from the other end. My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice.

"Hi," I returned in joyous relief. "How are you?"

"Good," he responded, sounding a little surprised. Maybe I’d come across a little
too
happy to hear from him. "I'm at the airport in L.A. for my connecting flight and I wanted to hear your voice. It's been really hard not talking to you."

"You have no idea," I exhaled. "When will you be home?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. Can I see you? I'll come straight from the airport."

"Um, why don't I meet you at your house? Will your parents be home?"

"My mother might be," he considered. "I don't think my father will be around. She mentioned a meeting in DC. I'll see you at my house. I should be there between two-thirty and three."

"That's perfect," I smiled.

"I should've called you, Emma. I'm sorry," he quickly added, the regret in his voice forced my pulse to quicken.

"You needed time," I stated quietly. "I deserved it."

"No. I should have called. That wasn't right, to do that to you. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

When I hung up the phone I was filled with both elation and dread. I missed him so much it ached, but I knew what was going to happen when we saw each other, and I wished it was already over. I couldn't fast forward the inevitable, so I accepted the long and difficult conversation we were about to have and collapsed in bed where exhaustion pulled me into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~

I left a little early for the game so I could pick up my jersey on the way. I anxiously tapped my fingers on the steering wheel the entire drive, hoping she'd stayed at
his
place, whoever that might be, or was still passed out.

"Shit," I grunted, when I saw the two cars in the driveway. I pulled up along the street and closed my eyes while gripping the steering wheel. Focused on running in to get my shirt and back out, I didn't bother to remove my keys from the ignition. I wouldn't acknowledge her if she said anything to me.

My heart beat frantically when I approached the front door. I hesitated before opening it, thinking I'd heard her yell. When I didn't hear it again, I continued inside.

Her agonizing cries stole the breath from my lungs. I stared in horror at the large man pounding his fist into my mother's side as she cowered on the floor in front of the couch with her hands over her head. She hollered in pain with each impact, trying to shrink away from his blows without anywhere to go.

"What are you doing?" I yelled, without thinking about anything except making him stop, despite the fact that he had a good five inches on me and looked enraged enough to take down a bull.

"This is none of your business," the guy growled at me. "Get the fuck out of here."

"Emily," my mother gasped. She tried to pull herself up on the coffee table. My mouth opened in a shocked utterance when I saw the blood gushing out of her nose and the swelling enveloping her right eye.

He wasn't about to let her come back up, turning toward her as she stumbled to her feet. He raised his bloodied fist just as I screamed, "No!" The collision spun my mother around, teetering her over the top of the coffee table. It collapsed upon impact. Her crumpled body didn't move, sprawled awkwardly on the splintered wood.

He turned to intercept me when I rushed to her, shoving me out of his way with virtually no effort. I landed hard on my side with a grunt.

"You want to make this your business?" the guy threatened from above me. I shrunk into the floor. He snarled down at me as he breathed heavily through flared nostrils. His black eyes threatened to bore right through me. "Then you're going to get hurt, little girl. This is between me and Rachel, so I'm only going to warn you one last time. Stay the fuck out of it."

I tensed, prepared for him to hit me. But he moved past me, slamming the front door behind him. I scrambled to my knees and slid over to the collapsed coffee table where my mother was starting to moan.

"Mom?" I called to her with tears in my eyes. "Can you hear me?"

She groaned louder and squinted with her good eye. "Emily? Is he gone?"

"Yeah, he's gone," I assured her, tenderly sitting her up. She whimpered with the slightest movement. "Can you get up? We need to get you to the hospital."

"I think I broke my wrist," she cried, holding her left wrist, the one she'd held out to break her fall.

"Easy," I coaxed gently. My voice was steady as I supported her to sit, but my entire body was shaking.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, fresh tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry."

"Okay," I consoled, dismissing her pleas. "Now let's see if you can stand." Supporting under her arm, I helped her up.

She was crying uncontrollably by the time we reached the car. I took a deep breath when I sat on the driver's seat and tried to remember how to get to the hospital, needing to remain calm so I could think clearly.

"It's okay," I breathed to myself. "Everything's going to be okay." I flipped my eyes toward my sobbing mother and said it louder for her to hear, "Everything's going to be okay."

Her cries dwindled to spastic breaths and sniffles as we neared the hospital.

"How are you doing?" I asked, afraid to take my eyes off the road, strangling the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry," she choked again.

"Okay," I dismissed anxiously. "But how are you feeling? Can you see out of that eye? Does anything else hurt?"

"I think I'll be fine," she returned in a murmur, wiping the blood from her face with her sleeve covered hand.

"Who was that guy?" I asked, now that she was starting to sound more coherent.

She just shook her head.

"Rachel," I demanded forcefully. "Who was that guy? Why did he do this to you?"

She swallowed audibly and released a quivering breath. "I owe him some money," she whispered faintly.

I pulled my brows together. "For what?"

She wouldn't answer. I didn't ask again.

I tried to remember if I knew what he looked like, for when the police asked. Besides being big and sleazy looking, I couldn't remember anything descript about his face. Then I knew. There was only one reason my mother would owe a guy like that.

"He's your dealer," I concluded out loud. Rachel remained silent. I couldn't stand to even look at her. I clenched my teeth together and stared at the road as the anger built up in my gut, tightening every muscle in my body.

When we arrived at the emergency room entrance, I demanded, "Give me your phone."

"What?" she squeaked. "Why?"

"I'm calling Sharon to pick you up," I told her, my voice edged with fury. "You should probably stay with her anyway until you can fix your mess."

"Emily," she pleaded desperately. "Please don't leave."

"I'm not staying here with you," I snapped coldly, unable to look at her. "I'll go back to the house to pack you a bag, and I'll leave it on the porch for Sharon to pick up."

"Don't," she sobbed, "don't say anything, okay?"

I turned toward her with my face pulled tight in disgust. I couldn't believe she was actually asking me to lie for her. I shook my head in anguished disbelief.

"Please," she begged, "I'm just going to tell them I was robbed and he took off before I could see him." Her eye was practically swollen shut, and congealed blood lined her nose. Her one good eye continued to tear up as she breathed in spasms. She looked horrid. But I couldn't pity her. As she gibbered in front of me, desperate for me to protect her with another of her lies, I loathed her.

I seethed through clenched teeth, "Don't worry. I won't tell the police that your drug dealer beat you because you owe him money. It's none of my business, remember?"

She gasped in a sob and turned from me, carefully letting herself out of the car while leaving her phone on the seat. As soon as the door was closed, I pulled away without looking back.

The impact of what had happened took hold of me as I turned onto the main road and I pressed my lips together to keep them from trembling. The anger kept back the tears, but my body shook despite my efforts.

I parked along a residential street and picked up her phone with an unsteady hand. After leaving a message for Sharon, my phone rang.

I took a deep breath before answering.

"Emma?" Jonathan confirmed when I answered with a strained voice. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

I closed my eyes and grimaced. He was at my soccer game. "Umm... I had to get my shirt," I tried to explain, my voice cracking.

"What happened?" he demanded urgently. "Emma, where are you?"

"I had to bring Rachel to the hospital," I released, trying to remain calm. "Jonathan..." I pressed my lips together. The anger was giving way, and I was about to lose it. I breathed in through my nose to ward off the tears.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I exhaled. I took another deep breath and explained, "There was some guy looking for money. He beat her pretty bad."

"What?" Jonathan practically yelled. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine. But she's a mess." I bit my trembling lip and the tears escaped.

"Where are you now?" he demanded. "I'm driving back toward Weslyn. Where are you?"

"I'm going back to her house," I explained. "I have to pack a bag so she can stay at Sharon's."

"Emma, I don't think you should go back there."

"He's gone," I told him, wiping my cheeks.

"Don't go in the house until I get there," he instructed firmly before hanging up.

I pulled back on the road and fought for control over the nerves twisting inside of me, tucking everything away as I was so good at doing. I was numb but focused by the time I pulled into the driveway. Jonathan hadn't arrived yet.

The front door was still open from our hasty exit. I scouted the street in search of cars, but none were in sight. I was confident the dealer wasn't coming back.

I walked through the screen door and stood in the foyer, listening. The house remained silent, so I continued up the stairs. I was about to walk into her room, when I thought I heard a board creak. My heart stammered. I turned toward the stairs, but there wasn't anyone there.

I exhaled, realizing I was holding my breath and started toward her door. I caught sight of my open door out of the corner of my eye and froze. Something was wrong. I turned back, my heart racing. Lying on the floor inside my room was a small blue gift box―the gift box that held the necklace Evan gave to me. The necklace that was supposed to be tucked under my clothes in my top drawer.

He
had
come back.

I raced across the hall. I was shaking my head, yammering, "No, no, no, no," when I slammed into his chest. Rocked backward, I cautiously stepped away while he continued out of my room. He revealed a snarky smirk. My eyes widened, fearing he'd hurt me as he had my mother. My heart thrust against my chest―I braced myself to run. That's when I saw the necklace in his hand.

"Oh no," I uttered in a breath. Without considering the consequences, I lunged toward him and reached for it. He grabbed my hand before I could touch it, shoving me away.

"You should have listened," he grunted. The hardened glare in his dark eyes sent a chill through me. I knew that look. I instinctively began to raise my hands to protect myself, but the punch knocked me to the floor. Pain flooded through my jaw, and my eyes filled with black dots.

I scrambled to my feet, trying to find my focus, needing to reach him before he could make it to the stairs. I pulled at his hand. He turned back around, snatching the necklace out of reach and exclaimed, "You little bitch. What the fuck are you thinking?"

"You can't have it," I cried. "Please, I'll pay you. But you can't take that from me."

He laughed and shoved me hard. I collided with the wall and grunted.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he sneered. He swung his arm and back handed me across the head, knocking me to my hands and knees. My head pounded, but I willed myself to get back on my feet. Before I could, his boot crashed into my ribs.

I screamed out and fell to the floor, my arms wrapped around me as I curled into a ball, unable to catch my breath.

"Emma!" I heard from the bottom of the stairs.

I couldn't find my voice to warn him, to tell him to leave. Immobile in my curled position on the floor, I heard scuffling and grunts. I rolled over to see Jonathan shoving the guy against the wall and thrusting his fist into his stomach. The guy buckled over.

I used the wall to help me up, and leaned against it with an arm across my ribs. Every breath was agonizing. I wanted to yell out, but I could only gasp in staggered breaths. I fumbled for my phone, but it wasn't in my pocket. I searched for it on the floor but couldn't find it.