Ten Tiny Breaths (27 page)

Trent parks the bike and I climb off. I don’t
get very far though, before he grabs the front of my jeans at the
zipper, and yanks me back to him. “Stay in or go out tonight?” His
teeth lightly nip my neck.

“How about both. First go out, and then stay
in.”

“That makes no sense.” The sound of his
chuckle against my ear sends shivers through my body.

I giggle. Then I shove him hard and he
tumbles to the grass. I start running. “If you can catch me, you
get to choose.” I manage to get the key into the lock before he
reaches me. I’m running through the commons toward our apartments,
squealing with anticipation, expecting to feel strong hands grab
hold of me any second.

When they don’t, I slow and glance back.
Trent is standing in the middle of the commons, frozen, his face
ashen like he’s seen a corpse.

“Trent?” I walk back toward him. Following
his riveted gaze, I discover an older well-dressed couple standing
ten feet away, watching us. In my mad dash, I’d missed them
earlier.

The man’s appearance strikes me as familiar
and I quickly realize what it is. He has Trent’s eyes and mouth.
Looking to the woman, her hair pulled into a sophisticated bun, I
recognize Trent’s narrow nose.

“Trent, are these your parents?”

No answer.

I’ve secretly been dying to meet his parents.
His father is a big shot lawyer in Manhattan; his mother runs a
creative agency. She funnels a lot of contract work through to
Trent. That’s how he gets his clients. I know that they’re divorced
and yet here they are. Together. A spike of fear channels through
me. There must be bad news if they travelled all the way here
together.

Trent still hasn’t moved, and this is now
beyond awkward. I don’t know why he’s acting the way he is. It
didn’t sound like there was bad blood between them. Someone needs
to do something. I step forward with a polite smile and extend my
hand. “Hi, I’m Kacey.”

I feel my smile slide off as Trent’s mother’s
face lightens five shades. She shuts her eyes and squeezes them
shut as if she’s in pain. When they open again, they’re glistening
with tears. She turns to Trent and swallows, her words barely above
a whisper and full of anguish, “How could you, Cole!”

That name.

My heart stops beating altogether.

When it starts up again, it’s a slow,
pounding, irregular rhythm. “What?” I croak. I turn to find Trent’s
face twisted with dread and guilt but I still don’t get it. “What …
why did she call you that, Trent?”

His eyes shine as his lips part to whisper,
“I just wanted to make you happy again, Kacey. It’s the only way I
can fix it.”

I’m falling.

Falling backward into the deep, dark water.
It’s pouring over me, into me, through my mouth, up my nose,
filling my lungs, seizing my will to breathe, to live.

I accept it. I welcome it.

In the distance, I hear voices. I hear people
calling my name, but I can’t find them. They’re safe, above water.
In another world. The world of the living.

There’s no place for me there.

***

“When will she wake up?” I hear Livie ask
above the soft rhythmic beeping. I’d heard enough of those machines
in my day to recognize it for what it is—a hospital I.V. If that
doesn't give me a hint of where I'm at, the sickly sterile hospital
odor sure does.

“When her mind is ready,” an unfamiliar male
voice explains. “Kacey has gone into severe psychological shock.
Physically, she’s fine. We’re just ensuring her body stays hydrated
and nourished. Now we have to wait.”

“Is this normal?”

“From what I understand, your sister suffered
a traumatic experience four years ago and has never recovered
emotionally from that.”

The voices stop long enough that I dare crack
open my lids. White and yellow walls fill my hazy vision.

“Kacey!” Livie’s face appears suddenly. Her
eyes are puffy and lined with dark rings, like she hasn’t slept in
days, her cheeks red and blotchy from crying.

“Where am I?” I ask, my voice coming out
raspy.

“A hospital.”

“How? Why?”

Livie’s mouth falls open for a second before
she pulls it closed again, trying to act calm. For my benefit. I
know that. I know my Livie. Always so selfless. Always so caring.
“You’re going to be fine, Kacey.” Her hands fumble with my blankets
to find my fingers. She squeezes. “You’re going to get help. I’ll
never let Trent hurt you again.”

Trent. That name attacks my body like a
thousand pin pricks. I jolt in response.

Trent is Cole.

Trent destroyed my life. Twice.

Suddenly, I’m gasping for air, the reality
squeezing my lungs like a vice. “How …” I start to say but I can’t
speak because I can’t breathe.
How is Trent, Cole? How did he
find me? Why did he find me?

“Breathe, Kacey.” Livie tightens her grip on
me, crawling in to lie down beside me and I realize I’m
hyperventilating.

“I can’t, Livie.” I cry out, tears burning my
cheeks. “I’m drowning.”

Her sobs fill the room.

He knew
. All that time he pretended to
be caring and sympathetic and unaware of my past, he is the cause
of my past. It was his car, his friend, his drunken night that
stole my life from me.

“It’s okay, Kacey. You’re safe.” Livie’s arms
hug my body to hers, her weight resting against me to stop my body
from shaking.

We stay like that for minutes. Hours. A life
time. I don’t know. Nothing changes. Nothing until Storm crashes
into the hospital room, panting as if she’s just run a marathon, a
wildness in her eyes like I’d never seen before. “I know, Kacey. I
know what happened to you. I know everything, now.” Tears spill out
over her cheeks. She climbs into the other side of my bed and grabs
hold of my hands. The three of us lay like sardines.

Tangled, sobbing sardines.

***

A hissing sound …

Bright lights …

Blood …

Trent’s beautiful face, his hands on the
steering wheel.

Pointing at me.

Laughing.

“Kacey!” Something sharp smacks my face.
“Wake up!”

I’m still screaming, even as Livie’s bulging
eyes comes into focus front of me, and the machines around me. A
sharp sting bites my cheek. I raise my hand to test it out.

“I’m sorry I had to slap you, but you
wouldn’t stop screaming,” Livie explains through her tears.

The nightmares are back, only they’re worse.
A million times worse.

“You won’t stop screaming, Kacey. You need to
stop.” Livie sucks in a sharp sob as she curls up in my bed beside
me and begins to rock, muttering to herself, “Please help her. God,
please help her.”

***

“Which hospital is this, again?” I’ve been
here two days now and Storm and Livie haven’t left my bed except to
use the bathroom or get water and food.

Storm and Livie share a long, edgy glance. “A
specialized one.” Livie says slowly.

“In Chicago,” Storm adds, setting her chin up
a notch.

“What?” My voice gathers more strength behind
it than I thought possible. I struggle to sit up in bed. I feel
like I’ve been run over by a truck.

Livie rushes to add, “There’s a P.T.S.D.
clinic nearby. It’s supposed to be the best in the country.”

“Well … what … how …” I finally pull myself
upright with the help of the bedrails. “Since when does public
health cover the best P.T.S.D. clinic in the country?”

“Calm down, Kacey.” Storm gently pushes me
back down into a lying position. I don’t have the strength to fight
her.

“Uh, no, I can’t calm down. We can’t pay for
this …” I fumble with my I.V., cursing to myself.

“What’re you doing?” Livie asks, panic in her
voice.

“Ripping this damn thing out of my arm and
getting the hell out of this swanky cuckoo nest.” I swat her hand
away as she tries to stop me. “What’s it costing, huh? Five
thousand per night? Ten?”

“Shhh, don’t worry about that, Kace.” Storm
smooths my hair.

It’s her turn to get a hand swat. “Someone
has to worry about it! What the hell am I going to do? Take up
permanent residence at Penny’s V.I.P. room wearing nothing but knee
pads so I can pay the bill!”

“I see our patient is awake?” The unfamiliar
soft voice from before interrupts, and stalls my fit. I turn to see
a decent looking older man with a receding hair line and kind
charcoal eyes hold his hand out toward me. I hadn’t even heard him
come in. “Hello, I’m Dr. Stayner.” I glare at that hand like it’s
covered in spots and oozing puss until he pulls it back. “Yes,
that’s right. Your issue with hands.”

My
issue with hands
? I scowl at
Livie and she averts her gaze.

If any of this bothers the doctor, I can’t
tell. “Kacey. Your case was brought to me by—”

“Dan,” Storm cuts in, her eyes shifting
between the doctor’s and Livie’s.

“Right. Dan.” He clears his throat. “I think
I can help you. I think you can live a normal life again. But I
can’t help if you don’t want to be helped. Understand?” I’m left
gaping at this man who calls himself a doctor and so clearly can’t
be. What kind of doctor walks into a room and says that?

When I don’t answer, he strolls over to look
out the barred window. “Do you want to be happy again, Kacey?”

Happy.
There’s that word. I thought I
was
happy. And then Trent destroyed me. Again. I fell in
love with my family’s murderer. I spent night after night with him
next to me, inside me, dreaming of a future with him. Bile rises to
my throat with the thought.

“A requirement of my therapy session is that
my patients talk, Kacey,” Dr. Stayner explains without a hint of
sarcasm or annoyance in his voice. “So I’ll ask you again. Do you
want to be happy?”

God, this guy’s pushy. And he’s going to
force me to talk. That’s what this is about. Why does everyone
insist on drudging up the past? It’s done. It’s over. No amount of
talking will ever change it, will ever bring anyone back. Why am I
the only one who sees this?

That comforting numbness is back and
trickling into my limbs and chest, forming a hard icy coating over
my heart. My body’s natural defense. Numbness to take away the
pain. “There’s no such thing as being happy for me.” My voice is
cold and hard.

He turns to me again, those kind eyes tinged
with pity. “Oh, there is, Miss Cleary. It will be an uphill battle,
and I will test you every step of the way. I can be unconventional
with my methods. With you, I will do things that are questionable.
You may hate me at times, but you and I will get there together.
You just have to want to. I will not move you into my clinic until
you willingly agree to it all.”

“No,” I growl defiantly, the very idea of
going anywhere with this new quack outrageous.

I hear a choking sound beside me. It’s Livie,
struggling to stay calm. “Kacey, please,” she pleads.

I set my jaw stubbornly, even though it pains
me to see her like this.

She sees my knee jerk reaction and sudden
rare fury flashes in her eyes. “You are not the only one who lost
their parents, Kacey. This isn’t just about you anymore.” She jumps
out of my bed and hovers over me, her fists balled up. And then she
rages like I’ve never seen before. “I can’t take it! The
nightmares, the fighting, the distance. I’ve had to deal with this
for four years, Kacey!” Livie’s hysterical now, tears pouring
freely, screaming, and I expect security to stalk in any second.
“Four years of watching you come and go in my life, wondering if
today’s the day I’m going to find you hanging in a closet or
floating in a river. I get that you were in that car. I get that
you had to see
everything.
But what about me?” She chokes,
the fury that fueled her forward with that outburst deflating,
leaving her looking drained and miserable. “I keep losing you over
and over again and I can’t take it anymore!”

Her words hit me over the head like a sledge
hammer.

I thought my heart was already broken but it
wasn’t.

Not completely.

Not until now.

“I know what happened the
night Storm was attacked, Kacey. I know,” Livie says, watching me
under a meaningful gaze.
Storm.
I shoot a glare her way,
and Livie scolds me with a waggling finger. “Don’t you dare give
Storm grief over telling me, Kacey Delyn Cleary. Don’t you dare.
Storm told me because she cares about you, and she wants you to get
help. You almost attacked a man with a broken beer bottle. We’re
not going to help you avoid your shit anymore, understand?” Livie
gracelessly wipes the tears away. “I’m not doing it
anymore.”

I’ve told myself time and
time again that this is all for Livie.
Everything I've done is to protect Livie.
If I watch
her now, if I look at what Livie has had to deal with, I wonder if
it’s all been about protecting myself? I know Livie lost her
parents. I know she lost me too, in a way. But have I ever
really
considered what she feels like? Tried to put myself
in
her
shoes? I figured no one’s shoes were half as bad as
the ones dragging me down like cement blocks. And Livie never let
on. She’s always been so strong and level-headed. She’s always been
Livie—with or without my parents. I just thought …

I didn’t think … My God! I never
really
weighed my actions, all my reactions, and what they
do to Livie. I just figured if I was upright and breathing, that I
was here for her. For Livie. But in a way, I never really have
been.

Suddenly I want to die.

I feel my head bob up and down, all
resistance vanishing as a new level of pain surges. Awareness. All
I’ve ever told myself is that I want to protect my little sister
from pain, but it hasn’t been about protecting her. It’s been about
protecting me. All I keep doing is causing pain for her. For
everyone in my life.