Barely Breathing

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.

The sparkle of the diamond caught my eye on the floorboards at my feet. I wrapped my fingers around it and clenched it tightly in my fist, feeling the stone digging into my palm.

Jonathan landed a punch to the side of the guy's head, causing him to stagger back. Before he could regain his balance, Jonathan followed with another to his jaw, and the guy teetered over, landing hard on the floor. Jonathan kept a hold of his shirt, keeping him propped up, and slammed his fist into his face. The guy's arms went limp by his sides, but Jonathan was relentless, swinging over and over again.

"Jonathan!" I screamed as blood smeared the man's face. The tendons in Jonathan's neck strained as he slammed his fist into the mangled face, blood spraying out of the mouth and nose. His rage was insatiable.

I staggered over and grabbed the arm that was holding the guy up. "Jonathan!"

Jonathan's head snapped up. His eyes were dark and feral. I didn't recognize him with his lips pulled tight in a hateful sneer. I stumbled back, inhaling sharply.

It took him a moment to focus on me, for his face to soften. The stone disintegrated from his eyes. I stood with my mouth open in abhorrence. His face contorted painfully when he saw the horror on my face.

Jonathan slowly lowered the guy to the floor and stood up, not taking his eyes off me.

"Emma," he breathed desolately. I shook my head, unable to comprehend what I'd just witnessed. I backed away and stared down at the unrecognizable figure on the floor. He wasn't moving. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing. His face was deformed and drenched in blood; he didn't look human.

"Emma, look at me," Jonathan directed calmly, no longer dazed. "Don't look at him, look at me."

I pulled my eyes away from the blood spattered remains on the floor and focused on Jonathan. "Emma, keep looking at me. Are you okay?"

He moved to touch my cheek. "Your face." I pulled back sharply, forcing him to withdraw his blood covered hand. I absently raised my hand to my mouth and winced at its touch. When I pulled it away, my fingertips were covered in blood. At first, I wasn't sure if it was mine. But then I tasted the tang of it in my mouth. I ran my tongue along the cut on the inside of my lip where my teeth had punctured the tissue.