Barely Breathing

I gingerly spread the clear gel over the swollen, discolored skin, cooling it instantly. I turned the tube over in my hand, wondering if the homeopathic medicine would really get rid of the bruising as quickly as Dr. Vassar said it would. There was no way I was going to school, or anywhere in public for that matter, until it went away.

I eased Evan's t-shirt over my head, holding my breath against the sharp pain triggered by simply raising my arms. Four to six weeks. That's how long it would take for the two fractured ribs to heal. I hoped the pain would subside in less time than that, considering breathing was a form of torture.

I walked into the guest room feeling as broken as I looked. I stopped at the sight of Evan pacing next to the bed, staring at the floor with his hands on his head, unaware that I was there.

Evan strode back and forth, lost in whatever torturous thoughts had overtaken him. He'd been so calm all day―holding me, comforting me, quietly watching as Dr. Vassar examined me. He listened silently while holding my hand when the police asked questions. Remaining by my side, strong and supportive, he'd hardly said a word.

But now he looked like he was coming apart. He flexed his hands, breathing in exaggerated breaths. Seeing him this disturbed paralyzed me. He raised his head and stopped abruptly when he noticed I was watching.

I inhaled sharply at the sight of his glassy blue eyes. He hid the despair under his lids and tried to regain composure, but his jaw only became tighter and the tendons along his neck, rigid.

"Evan?" I whispered, not moving.

He opened his eyes. They glistened in agony, and the line between them deepened when he looked at me. We remained still for a moment. His tormented transformation ripped through me.

"I promised no one would ever hurt you again." Despite his strained appearance, his voice was calm and strong. I looked into his eyes and was suffocated by the weight of their despair.

"What?" I shook my head in confusion.

Evan remained still, not moving toward me―the muscles along his arms remained taught, like he was in physical agony just saying the words. "That night, when you were lying there, broken and barely breathing, I promised. I promised to always love you and that no one would ever hurt you again."

My mouth opened in shock, but I was too stunned to speak. I moved to the bed, still trying to understand, and lowered myself to sit on the end of it, staring blindly at the floor. My first thought released through my lips, "What did I do to you?"

Evan knelt before me. It felt like the air was being crushed from my lungs.

"You were there?" It's one of the details I'd never heard, because I'd refused to learn what had actually happened to me that night. And he never told me.

Evan swallowed with a slow blink and nodded his head. "I knew I couldn't convince you to leave, so I stayed. I waited in my car, making sure nothing happened. But I fell asleep, and when I woke up, she was there."

"Oh my God," I gasped, having a hard time accepting what he was telling me, shaking my head. "No."

"George was already in your room, trying to get her off of you, but he couldn't. I pushed him out of the way and threw her off, but―" He stopped and closed his eyes. I watched his chest rise with a heavy breath before he continued. I wanted to make him stop. I didn't want to hear it. He wasn't supposed to be there, in my nightmare.

But I was too overwhelmed to ask him not to continue. I watched his lips move, "I couldn't believe what she'd done to you. You were cuffed to the bed, and there was tape over your mouth. You'd been crying, the tears were still running down your face. But... you weren't breathing."

"Evan," I gasped, my eyes blurred. I placed my hand on his cheek and my body ached with every word. "You shouldn't have seen that."

He looked up at me with his eyes tight, shaking his head fiercely. "I was supposed to protect you, Emma."

A tear slid down my cheek.

"But I didn't." His eyes closed, he struggled with the words. I knew he was still tortured by the image of what he'd seen.

"You were so still and pale," he continued. His smoky blue eyes connected with mine, and he whispered, "I breathed for you."

"You?" The shock of his confession devoured me.

"I begged for you to breathe with every breath I gave to you. I kept pleading for you to breathe over and over again. And then… then you did." He blinked away the tears that flooded his eyes. "I promised―"

"Evan," I interrupted, "this isn't your fault." I couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd gone through that night. What he'd seen. What he was forced to do. And then had to live with it while keeping it from me for nearly a year.

"I'm so sorry," I uttered in a soft cry.

"Emma, don't," he urged. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"But you," I stumbled, "But you shouldn't have..." I couldn't find the words to explain that he wasn't supposed to be there. I chose to stay. It was my silence, my denial, my decision that put us there that night.

"I shouldn't have what?" he challenged. "I should have called the police, or told someone long before that night. I know that now. And I have to live with that. But wanting to protect you, loving you... You will always be my choice."

His words pierced me, and I closed my eyes, letting the tears slip through my lids. Evan lowered his head on my lap and wrapped his arms around me. I ran my hand over his hair, comforting him.

I never wanted to hurt him. To damage him. But I had. And even now, my choices continued to destroy him―all I had to do was look in his eyes to see it.

Vivian didn't say anything when he stayed with me that night. We lay facing each other, with his hand covering mine. It was difficult to lie on my broken ribs, but Dr. Vassar explained that it would help me breathe better, and it did. The tortured look on his face pierced my heart. I was having a hard time finding my breath.

"Will you please tell me about Rachel and why you spent the day with Jonathan?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off mine.

"You knew?"

"Of course," he replied. "What happened in that house, Emma?"

I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. His impassioned blue eyes held me captive. My voice was soft and strained with emotion. "I thought she would be different. But she hasn't changed. When she started drinking, I was convinced it was my fault―that I reminded her of my dad and I upset her. I wanted to help her, but she just kept drinking. And got worse. Each time she'd hurt me more. In the end... she doesn't love me. She never has."

Evan was quiet, gently running his hand over my cheek.

"And Jonathan?" Evan coaxed.

My eyes flickered, fearing he could see into me. "He was there. He knows how unstable she is, so he understands. He's become... a friend. We went for a drive that day, to get away from her. It wasn't planned. He just wanted to be there for me." I couldn't say more. It was evident by the tightness around his eyes that he was trying to understand, but that this was hard to hear. I kept the rest of what we'd shared to myself.

"Now I'm here for you," he whispered, holding my hand and kissing it gently. "Close your eyes, Emma. I'm not going anywhere."

I closed my eyes. But I didn't sleep.

~~~~~

When I opened my eyes again, it was light and Evan wasn't next to me. Sara was.

"Hey," she greeted with an endearing smile. "You slept a long time."

"I did?" I responded in surprise since I didn't remember sleeping at all. Holding my breath, I gingerly pushed myself up and noticed it was almost noon. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

"Jared called," she explained. "I came back on the earliest flight I could get."

"You didn't have―"

"Don't even start, Emma," she scolded. "You know I'd do anything for you. Even sit next to an annoying guy who snored on my shoulder the entire flight." She grinned. But her grin couldn't mask her troubled eyes.

"Thanks, Sara," I returned genuinely. "Where's Evan?"

"Cooking something," Sara explained. Moving closer, she raised her hand to my cheek, careful not to touch it. "That's going to take some great makeup skills. Good thing you have me."

"Good thing," I agreed with a wry smile, wincing when I pulled myself up to sit, moving the pillow behind me. Sara's eyes tightened.

"Oh, I have these for you," she said, handing me two ice packs. "Evan has strict orders."

I took the packs to set on my bruises. Sara opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. Her brows pulled together, listening intently. She walked to the door and opened it. I watched her curiously, and then I heard it too. It sounded like someone was calling my name.

Sara moved out the door quickly and I scooted off the bed to follow. I couldn't make out who was saying it, but they kept calling for me.

"I know she's here," the muffled voice declared. "Emma!"

Sara was standing in the open doorway of the kitchen when I rounded the corner.

"Sara, don't let her out here, okay," Evan instructed from the porch.

"What's going on?" I asked, my pulse picking up when I caught sight of the hardened look on Evan's face.

Sara closed the door, and I could hear Evan continue sternly, "She's fine. You don't need to be here."

I looked out the window in the sitting room and found Jonathan standing in the driveway. My heart faltered. He was clenching his fists and his face was reddening.

"Just let me see her, Evan," he demanded, becoming more agitated and taking a step toward Evan. "At least tell her I'm here."

"Why is he here?" Sara asked from behind me.

"He just wants to know that I'm okay," I told her, heat rising to my cheeks. With Evan stonewalling him, I knew he was on the brink of losing his patience, and I couldn't let it escalate. I moved past her toward the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Sara demanded urgently.

"He just wants to know that I'm okay," I repeated with my heart beating harder against my chest.

I opened the door and Evan glanced at me quickly without realizing it was me. He turned back, stunned, when he did. "Emma, don't."

"It's okay," I assured him with forced calmness. "He just wants to make sure I'm okay."

Evan tensed when I walked past him, but he didn't stop me.

Jonathan's face softened when I approached, the confrontational glare instantly replaced by a subtle smile, but the anxious look in his eye remained.

"Hey," he greeted quietly when I neared him. I stopped in front of him with my arms crossed protectively over my ribs.

"Hey," I returned timidly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," he began. "I've been trying to call you. I was going out of my mind worried about you. You left so fast after..." He paused, and my heart faltered at the remembrance. "I didn't know how badly you were hurt. I needed to see you."

"Oh," I responded, my cheeks reddening. "Um, I don't even know where my phone is. I should've called. I'm sorry I didn't." I could feel Evan watching us, and knew Sara was probably next to him as well. I didn't dare look.