Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(120)

‘No,’ I answered, my voice low. ‘There isn’t an excuse or explanation in the world that would make it right, that would help me understand why she hurt me. I don’t need to forgive her. I need to figure out how to keep living – otherwise she should have killed me.’

I raised my head. ‘What? Why would you say that? You don’t think you deserved to die? Do you, Emma?‘ I asked, my chest pounding.

‘I wouldn’t say it like that exactly,’ she replied, her voice monotone and distant, like she was speaking about someone else. ‘I’m not sure what I deserve. But I know I’m not doing a very good job living.’

I was disturbed by her defeatist tone, but before I could say anything, she added, ‘I have a tattoo to remind me. I drew it when I was still suffering from the nightmares. It’s supposed to keep me from getting lost. To help me hold on.’

‘Can I see it?’

Emma sat up, and I straddled the hammock, pressing my feet on the deck to keep us steady. She scooted between my legs with her left side facing me, pulling up her T-shirt to expose the ink inscribed under her ribs. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to provide enough light to see the intricate details of the waning moon with a sleeping male profile. The entire outline was the same words repeated over again: ‘It’s only a dream.’ The script was fine and ran together in a cyclical chant, until the lowest point. A set of words disrupted the perfection. ‘Open your eyes and live.’

I reached out with my finger and traced the swing hanging off those words, small and delicate. Her skin erupted into a chill of goosebumps at my touch.

‘Maybe I should get one that says, “She’s still breathing”,’ I murmured as she lowered her shirt. She turned towards me in a sudden motion.

‘When you said that you have nightmares that I was gone, you meant that I died?’

I preferred not to reflect upon the many nights when I’d arrived too late, finding her limp and pale. ‘Not always,’ I admitted reluctantly. ‘Sometimes I can’t find you at all, no matter where I search. I usually wake up in a panic. The others … when I’m not there in time … feels like someone’s tearing my heart out.’

I couldn’t get in a breath as his eyes sifted through those nights of despair. I could only imagine what it was like to be forced awake by a nightmare, only to find that it was true. I ran my hand along his cheek, and his eyes focused on mine, surprised by my touch.

‘I don’t want you to hate me. I want you to forgive me,’ I gasped. ‘I want you to love me again.’ His eyes shone. ‘But I don’t know how to let you if I can’t forgive myself.’ I paused, my lip trembling. ‘It always comes back to forgiving, doesn’t it?’

‘It does,’ he sighed, cupping my hand and holding it against his warm skin. ‘I never stopped loving you, Emma. I just don’t know how to love you enough.’

A tear spilled over my cheek. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘If I did, you’d trust me with all of you.’

I bowed my head, pulling my hand away. ‘I’m afraid. So afraid that if you see who I truly am, you’ll hate me. And I can’t let that happen. I only exist because of you, Evan. You’ve saved me more times than you know. I’m so afraid I’m not worth the breath you gave me. I want to be so much better than this girl in front of you. I want to deserve you, to let you love me. I just don’t know how.’

‘You don’t have to let me, Emma. I already do. You just have to love me back. With everything you have. And that’s all I need. I need you. All of you.’

The raw intensity of our unfiltered words was consuming. I was terrified and exhilarated all at once. She was finally opening up, exposing herself to me, and I couldn’t have asked her to be any more honest. But at the same time, I was disturbed by what she was saying. And I was fearful about where this was heading.

There was a heartbreaking sadness in her eyes. Emma slid away from me and off the hammock. I watched her walk towards the stairs, where she turned and waited for me. I followed her down to the beach, accompanied by the sound of the volatile waves crashing to shore. We walked for some time, our eyes on our feet.

‘I need to be honest with you.’ My voice finally broke through the silence. ‘If we’re going to have a chance of moving forward, then I have to tell you everything that happened after you left. It’s not going to be easy to hear, but I need you to listen … to all of it.’

‘Okay,’ she said quietly, her voice nearly swept away in the ocean breeze.

I sat on the sand, and she lowered herself next to me. Feeling the pressure of her body huddled tight against my arm, I stared out at the coursing waves.

‘When you left me like that, in that house. That awful house. I was so angry. I couldn’t understand how you could disappear from my life without a word. That anger overpowered any other feelings I had for you. I wanted to let you go. I was convinced you’d chosen him.’

‘Jonathan?’

‘Yeah,’ I replied, trying to relax my shoulders. ‘I didn’t know what to think. But after what he said that night, about how you confided in him, with secrets you could never tell me … I just assumed.’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ she insisted.

‘Then what was it like, Emma? What happened between you two?’ I begged. ‘Did you love him?’