Breathe With Me (The Breathe Series Book 3) (6 page)

I stare at her, my mouth gaped open as usual when she puts me in my place for acting like a whiney baby. She’s right. I have no business punishing him, but I still do and I’ll probably continue to do it. I don’t have the nerve to confront him and all that happened. I do good to push the thoughts and images away each and every time Chris and I get close.

“Do you even love him?”

My eyes nearly bulge out as I snap my neck around to look at her. Her hands are defiantly at her hips with her eyebrows drawn up expectantly with her lips stretched into a thin line.

“Evan?” I spit out immediately confused by her question.

“No!” she bites out with a shake of her head. “Chris.”

This loses me even more. Glancing back to the house afraid if anyone can hear our conversation, I confirm that Hayden and Chris are not within earshot as I speak up.

“Well, no…I don’t…” I stumble.
Why is she asking this?
“I like him, but I mean, isn’t it a little soon to be confessing my love for him. It’s been two months.”

She doesn’t budge, looking at me skeptically while she slides her hands from her hips to fold across her chest.

“What?!”

“Piper, where did you put the lighter?” Chris yells from behind me, but I don’t even turn. I keep my eyes glued to Abby with hers also on me, both of us silent. One thing about Abby is she doesn’t choose sides and if she has a problem, she’s not afraid to let you know it.

I start to turn to go back to the cabin, unsure of what else to add to this conversation. I don’t have a leg to stand on.
I’m wrong to still hold this grudge.

“Hang on, I’ll show you,” Abby directs her voice to Chris, then looks back at me standing in front of her. “You, sit here and think about what the hell you are doing. This is the same as last summer…you need to get this crap under control. If you’re not going to talk to him, then leave him alone and stop with the dirty looks and for God’s sake, stop looking so damn miserable every time he goes somewhere with another girl. It’s going to happen.” She arches a brow and tightens her hands across her chest, before softening her stance. “I love you and I understand this is hard, but you need to do what’s right. This isn’t good for you anymore than it is good for him. Ok?”

I nod, feeling defeated and like a coward. My shoulders slump as her arms engulf me in a squeeze-the-life-out-of-you Abby-kind-of-hug.

“Ok, I’ll be back,” she whispers in my ear before darting off.

“Ok, Mom,” I mumble glumly.

My legs give out and I slide to the sand. Tugging my knees to my chest, I look between the tangle of branches in an attempt to peer at Evan’s camper.
What am I doing? Why can’t I let him go and just move on?

My mind twists and turns, flipping through pages of memories with him and me until it lands on the moment in time when he made me feel the safest. The day I needed it the most, yet he had no idea that he was saving me. He still has no idea what that night was to me.

Carefully shutting the front door of the cabin with my heart beating on the walls of my chest, I take off in the darkness, not even thinking of where I’m going. I don’t care. Right now, jumping in the lake with the heaviest rock I can find in my hands sounds like the most suitable solution for my grief. I don’t want to think; I can’t. Running wildly, my arms flop around at my sides, the air burns my lungs and tears sting my eyes and chap the skin of my cheeks.

A whimper echoes in my mind and I squeeze my eyes shut as my feet catch on something sharp. My body flings forward and instantly I throw my arms out on instinct. I hope I break my neck. Maybe I’ll hit my head and bleed to death before anyone finds me. My chest hits the ground with a thud as a dull tingle stretches up from my knees. I scrunch my face and slowly lift myself to my hands and knees as gravel grinds into my palms. I’m still alive. My head throbs and no matter how I try I cannot shut off my mind.

Another whimper sound, mixed with heavy breaths in my ear. God, no! I push up from the ground, still on my knees and slam my hands over my ears.

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it, my mind screams.

Just stop it!

I shake my head wildly, losing my balance and falling to my butt, more pebbles scraping into my skin as the pain gives me a sense of relief. My knees throb and more tears come. I have no control. What happened? Why? Was it my fault?

Pressing my eyes closed as I lie still in the middle of the parking lot, just steps away from a white truck with a side sticker that reads Jansen’s Construction, I listen to the sounds of the night. The frogs croak, the crickets chirp and tiny splashes sound farther away until little-by-little a serene image of peace and calm starts to break through all the dreadful thoughts that keep swallowing my mind whole. Letting out a breath, the shooting pain in my side begins to subside as my lungs welcome a steady, easy flow of air once again.

Just as my trembling legs muster up the energy to support my weight and as I swing them around to stand, another sound fills my eardrums; I cringe.

“Hold still,” the whisper is laced in pain and regret.

My chest swells as my mouth drops open in a sob, filling me with adrenaline and the need to run; run away from the voice, the breaths, and the memories.

No, no…stop!

I run and run and run, running so fast that my mouth is unable to take in air fast enough. Twigs snap and my feet stumble, barely catching myself a few times, until they find a solid surface. Where am I? I look around, my mind panicked and my heart thundering out for a reprieve from the anguish. Fumbling for the handle, my hand grips to a hard metal knob and I pull, doubting I may even have the strength to get it open. To my surprise, I swing it forward with a stealthy force I didn’t know I had; with hidden strength that should have been used to fight earlier, however, I was frozen; too scared to move, to do anything except be a victim. Is it my fault?

A crackle sounds behind me and I look up, aware of my surroundings for the first time. My eyes are fogged over and more streams of water continue to fill them as I stare ahead at the cracked mirror above the sink in the shower house. The light is on, yet the room is still dull; dark and filled with the dusty odor of mold and mildew. My throat wobbles and my stomach clinches as I run forward, throwing myself over the sink as I hurl. Emptying my stomach, one painful catapult of my body at a time, I cry harder, letting exhaustion, shame and sorrow consume me.

After a few minutes my stomach stops ripping me apart, I look down at the mess in the sink as the smell of the pizza I ate earlier takes on a whole new image in my mind. I’ll never eat that again. It takes me a few minutes to clean up my mess, too embarrassed that any sign of me being here will let everyone see the dirty images in my head. I toss the wad of paper towels into the trash and take a deep breath. Calm down, calm down, I repeat over and over to myself, hoping it will take my heart and head to another place; a moment in time that was beautiful, not ugly. Everything is ugly now.

Glancing up, I look at my reflection. Is that me? My lip curls into a snarl and I’m disgusted by the sight that looks back at me. I want to scream at it. Flinching as I continue to stare, I fight to resist shouting that it is all my fault; that I’m to blame. How’d it happen? Did I say something that made him think that it was ok, or do something that offered it up as an option he felt was available to him?

I drop my arms to my side, all energy and emotion slowly dripping out of them. I look down for a second, sure that there will be a puddle at my feet; a small river of tears and possibly even blood from my heart being torn from my soul. On top of all the pain and agony inside of me my bladder screams, but I don’t even want to touch myself. I’m scared. I can’t tell anyone ever.

After minutes of more sobbing, gagging, shaking until I swear I’m suffering from seizures and after painfully wiping any traces of the incident away, I make my way out of the shower house, numb and not knowing where I can go. I glance over to my cabin and a surge of vomit begins to quake in my stomach. Immediately dismissing any thoughts of going back home, my eyes catch sight of a light suddenly appearing right ahead of me; Evan.

I wipe at my eyes, rubbing them with the back of my hands so there is not a single sign of my tears as I race for his camper. I think this is where I saw him go the other day. My mind speeds faster than my legs can carry me, running through possible things to say if he doesn’t answer the door and even things to say if he does.

Are you busy? At midnight, I’m sure he’s just hanging out waiting for company.

I was just going for a walk and wanted to say hi. Again, it’s after midnight.

Panic rises to the back of my throat, but it’s too late. My knuckles hit the door with a quick tap-tap before limply falling back to my sides. The silence is deafening as I listen to the thud of my heartbeat, wondering if somehow it could be his footsteps moving towards the door.

With a loud grating-creak sound, the small metal door comes open and I step out of the way.

Evan’s eyes widen in surprise. “Piper. Hey…what’s up?”

He stands in the doorway in a loose tee shirt and baggy black gym shorts. I tremble, unable to form words. The smile that usually adorns his face falls, and a look of absolute concern and alertness takes over as he steps down the three steps and places his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, are you ok?”

I look over at his hand; my heart jumps and my skin crawls as I slink back from him a bit.

“I’m ok. I was just…” I glance around, nervously fidgeting with the hem of my shirt and struggling not to cry.

“Hey…hey…” He moves closer, but keeps his hands at his sides. I suddenly feel like a deer during firearms season, ready to bolt at the tiniest sound. “Have you been crying?”

My eyes search the campers outside walls, the beige, brown and rust stripes merging into one blurry mess between the darkness and the glaze of tears that have cropped up. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

I don’t say a word just stare around for an escape. This was a bad idea.

“Hey, you know what? I was just going to play a card game or something by myself. Lame, I know, but it’d be more fun with two players.”

He steps backwards, carefully up just one stair as his hand comes into my line of sight and his other foot steps up onto the next.

“You wanna come in for a bit and kick my butt at cards?”

His laugh fills my ears and it’s comforting; it’s beautiful as it always has been. I look up immediately, my eyes wide as I see a smile shadowing his face. His hand remains held out and I don’t even recognize my own movement until I feel a grip on my own hand. My feet move without me telling them to and before I know it, I am sitting on the edge of his bed. He sits beside me and I look around. I should be scared. I should want to bolt, to run, but I don’t.

“Ok…let’s see.” He gets up and walks to a table in the middle of the room. Reaching above it, he opens a set of cabinet doors and pulls out a stack of old board games, complete with dingy, ripped up boxes. “We have Monopoly, Clue, Chess…” He sticks that one back into the cabinet. “Sorry, I hate that one…” rifling through a few more, I watch his movement, comforted with my heartbeat finally steadying to a slow rap. “Monopoly is a good one. It’ll keep us busy.” He smiles and I snap my head to take in his expression, curious of whether he can see in my eyes what happened only minutes earlier.

After shuffling the other games back into the cabinet, he heads back to the bed.

“Hang on,” he says softly.

He reaches around me with deliberate slow and careful movements as he does his best to flatten his comforter around me. I stand up for a second and he takes the opportunity to finish the job before spreading the board out on the mattress.

Minutes stretch by as we busy ourselves in an old-school board game. He is relentless at working to get a laugh out of me and even though I find it hard, my lips curve up in a familiar shape once or twice. He never once pushes to know what is going on, but I can tell he can see the pain. He probably assumes I got in a fight with my parents or had a bad dream, and I’d rather keep it that way. I never want Evan to know.

With another roll of the dice, Evan grabs my game piece and moves it for me, counting the steps out loud as he taps it to the board.

“Look at that…I told you, you’d kick my butt.”

His smile stretches as he looks at me and I stare back, our eyes locked in an innocent friendship, comfortable acceptance and timeless concern of each other’s welfare and happiness. I breathe out a truck load of gratefulness as I fight every ounce of emotion inside of me that is threatening to break free. It surges through me like a typhoon practically forcing me face down and buried in his pillow as I yearn for Evan to rescue me…

To make it go away….