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

‘Stop it, Peyton!’ Meg scolded. I remained paralysed as she flaunted my past in front of me.

Still not doing a very good job fading. His voice flitted through my head, sending a chill down my back.

‘I love this,’ Peyton admired, shaking out my pink sweater. ‘Can I have it?’

‘No! Knock it off, Peyton!’ Meg snatched the sweater and placed it back into the box. ‘Sorry, Em.’

A rush of painful emotion coursed through me, forcing me to feel more than I had in the past year and a half. I couldn’t utter a sound. It was as if I were being flayed, every nerve exposed.

Before Meg could slide the cover back over my past, Peyton removed a jewellery box.

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

Desperation echoed through me, and the memory of cold hard eyes triggered a flash of panic, releasing me from my silent torture.

I sprang from the seat and grabbed the blue box from Peyton’s hand. My sudden movement forced her to take a step back. I threw it in the box and slammed the cover back on. My heart was beating so fast my hands were shaking. I gripped the edge of the cover, waiting for the pain to subside. But it was too late. The simple act of opening that box had unleashed the wrath of guilt and despair I’d hidden within my darkest depths, and now it wasn’t going to be confined by a lid.

‘Sorry, Em,’ Peyton whispered. I didn’t turn around. I slid the box under my bed and took a deep breath. My heart singed around the edges like a burning piece of paper, the flames slowly creeping towards the centre. I closed my eyes and tried to extinguish it, but couldn’t.

‘I’m going for a run,’ I murmured, barely audible.

‘Okay,’ Meg responded cautiously. Afraid of what she might see in my eyes, I didn’t dare look at her as she ushered Peyton out of the room. ‘I’ll see you when you get back.’

I threw on running gear and was out the front door within minutes. With my iPod blaring music in my ears, I began to run. Picking up the pace until my thighs burned, I cut down side streets until I reached the park. I stumbled to a stop, unable to fight back the onslaught of emotion. I clenched my trembling hands into tight fists and released a guttural cry, until I feared I’d collapse.

Without looking around to see whose attention I’d drawn, I took off into a sprint again.

By the time I returned home, my face was dripping with a mixture of tears and sweat. The exhaustion from the run had helped ease most of the fire, but I couldn’t extinguish it all, as much as I tried. My insides still burned. I considered what I could do to push the torment back into the dark and return to my numb state. I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed help. I was desperate.

‘Peyton!’ I called out from the bottom of the stairs. She turned down the music in her room and poked her head out.

‘Hey, Em. What’s up?’

‘I’ll go with you.’ I heaved, still trying to catch my breath.

‘What?’ she asked, unsure that she’d heard me correctly.

‘I’ll go to the party with you,’ I repeated more clearly, my breath beginning to even out.

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed. ‘I have the perfect tank top for you to wear too!’

‘Great,’ I grumbled, heading towards the kitchen to get a drink of water.

‘You have no idea how happy I am that you changed your mind,’ Peyton chirped when we stepped out of her red Mustang at the end of the car-lined street. Even from here, the music carried down the block.

‘No problem,’ I replied absently. I needed to be distracted from the voices that were suddenly whipping around in my thoughts. I needed to find my way back to being numb.

‘You cannot wear that sweatshirt,’ Peyton scolded before I could shut the car door.

‘But it’s cold out,’ I argued.

‘Not where we’re going. It’s only a short walk to the house. Come on, Em. Suck it up.’

I reluctantly removed the sweatshirt to reveal the glittery silver tank top beneath and shivered as I tossed it into the car.

‘Much better,’ Peyton admired with a vibrant smile, joining me on the sidewalk and sliding her arm through mine. ‘Let’s go party!’

Peyton strode alongside me in her strapless red dress, her golden blonde hair lying in a glossy sheet down her back. Her greenish-blue eyes were lit with excitement as she escorted me towards the music that grew louder with each passing house. I was surprised the police hadn’t shown up yet. But when I looked around, I realized it was surrounded by college housing. Most of the residents were probably away for winter break or at the party.

We approached the side of a beige house with a large white tent in the back yard. A couple of guys were handing out tiaras and top hats as we passed through the entrance. Peyton slid a tiara on her head and I took a top hat. A guy ladled red liquid out of a trash can and set the cup on a table in front of us.

Peyton’s eyes widened when I took the cup. ‘You know that has alcohol in it, right?’

‘Yes, I do,’ I replied casually, taking a sip. It was … sweet. It reminded me of an overly sugared fruit punch. This wasn’t going to be as difficult as I thought. Why had my mother opted for the dreadful taste of straight vodka when this was an option?

‘But you don’t drink,’ Peyton countered in obvious shock.