Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)
By: Martha Sweeney
One
As I attempt to lift my heavy eyelids, I discover a hazy darkness surrounding me. Blinking slowly several times, my half-opened eyes won’t focus to give me any clear indication of what’s around me and where the blurry, flashing lights above are coming from. My body feels heavy. Still unable to open my eyes all the way, I perceive that I’m laying down somewhere. A cool dampness near my left cheek reveals itself as a slight gust of air brushes past my face. Sliding my right arm up the side of my body like a snake, my fingers creep to my lips. Drool — or, at least I hope so.
Two large and oddly shaped figures materialize in front of me. They are so close, only a foot or two away. Voices suddenly emanate from the now more defined silhouettes. Their speech sounds muffled and trails off into the distance even as I try to concentrate on their words. Who are they? What are they saying? Why can’t I understand them? One of the voices almost sounds feminine.
Another indistinguishable sound gradually becomes more apparent as it grows louder and the ringing in my ears subsides. It’s the engine of a car. My brain finally starts to put the fuzzy pieces of evidence together. I must have fallen asleep in the back seat. A familiar smell creeps into my nose that reassures me — my mother’s perfume.
“Mom?” my throat squeezes out in a raw, breathy, hoarse tone.
“We’re almost home, dear,” her voice replies in a low, sluggish tone.
I internally smile at her comforting words, though her voice sounds peculiar.
A sudden rush of nervousness enters my belly. The car feels as if it’s flying down the road like a rocket ship as the speed of the flashing lights zooming above my head all blur into one.
“Mom,” I try to shout, but not a single sound escapes my mouth this time. Confused, I try again. “Mom!”
She doesn’t hear me. I don’t hear me.
A single, bright white light races towards us, growing larger by the second. My mother turns her head towards me smiling. Why doesn’t she hear me? How does she not see the light?
Again, with all my might. “Mom . . . !” my voice trails in my head like a deafening siren, stabbing my ears like a knife.
Time stops in this very moment. I can see everything with perfect clarity as I stare in horror into my mother’s eyes. My mouth is left open, still screaming without a sound. I can’t hear anything except a piercing ring that echoes in my body. Why can’t she hear me? Why doesn’t she see the terrified look on my face?
My body lurches backward as I attempt to scramble to grab my mother and I suddenly become paralyzed. Then, it happens all at once — I hear the sound of metal hitting metal as it wraps itself around and around. I watch my parents’ bodies hurling forward toward the oncoming truck, bouncing around like ping pong balls, getting dented with each blow.
My heart is filled with terror as I desperately try to yell one more time, “Mom . . . !”
Jerking awake, I shout out in despair. The pounding of my heart and heaving of my lungs is only matched by the shaking that racks my body. Whimpers of a dog and the gift of warm, wet licks on my chin and neck draw my attention. Sadie is consoling me. It was just a dream. Yes, just a dream.
Wrapping my arms around Sadie’s neck allows me to regain my composure. Mortified, a tear rolls down my right cheek. It wasn’t just a dream — it’s my mind’s attempt to reconcile the death of my parents, even though I can’t recall anything.
It’s a nightmare that I haven’t had in quite some time. It shouldn’t surprise me for all the times I’ve dreamt it, but it does since I don’t wake up like that lately near as often. I used to start every morning that way. Now, not so much. Yet, when it does happen, the effect is still the same.
I’ve been haunted by this vision since the day I regained consciousness in the hospital. Thrashing my body around and pulling out the I.V. the first time caused the hospital staff to sedate and strap me to the bed. It took four more times of the nightmare, plus heavy medication, before my mind and body finally became sedentary and numb enough to allow me to recognize where I was, the devastating pain I felt all over and in my heart, and that the memory was real.
It’s not easy to find out from a stranger that your parents died in the horrific vision that keeps reoccurring in your head each time you sleep.
Well, there’s no way I’m going back to sleep now, not that I ever did after having that dream.
Kissing the top of Sadie’s head before looking directly at her, I half-heartily smile and say, “Looks like it’s an extra early morning for us, girl.”
Sadie’s mouth drops open and her tongue flops out as a sign of relief.
“Who’s hungry?”
She licks my chin two more times knowing the meaning of those words and jumps off the bed in excitement. Stopping in the doorway, Sadie looks over her shoulder at me to see if I’m following yet.
“I’m coming, I’m coming . . .” I retort as I slide my legs to the side of the bed, stretch my arms up and yawn.
I prepare Sadie’s meals a few days in advance based on what I’ve picked up at the store, farmers market or had delivered. Her diet consists of all raw meats, fruits, veggies and/or seasonings. On occasion, I get her fresh beef or bison bones to chew on. Only the best for my little Sadie. Grabbing a glass container from the fridge, I dump the contents into Sadie’s food bowl and add some turmeric and dried basil for extra flavoring and nutrition.