Reason to Breathe

38. Shattered





“You little tramp,” Carol muttered from behind me while I swept the kitchen floor. I spun around at the sound of her voice.


“What did you have to do to get that?” she demanded, reaching for the necklace. I backed away, out of her clutches. Her eyes widened with shock.

“You can’t honestly think he cares about you,” she jeered. “He probably had that from the last girl he screwed.”

The fire ignited within me as I stared in disgust at this pathetic woman.

“Shut up, Carol,” I shot back firmly, towering over her.

“What did you just say?” she demanded, with a ferocity that could have blown the house to pieces. Her hand connected with the side of my face with a rocking force. The broom reverberated off the floor.

I turned my head back toward her. The fire fed every muscle of my tensed body. I raised my fist.

“What, are you going to hit me?” she smirked. “Go ahead and hit me.”

My mind snapped back. I looked up at my clenched hand - appalled at what I was about to do. I pushed away the rage before it swallowed me.

“I have no idea why you’re so twisted, but I’m not you,” I spat. “You disgust me.”

Carol stared at me with contempt. My insides twisted, instantly regretting my cutting statement. Fear started overtaking the anger, and my body began to quiver.

She grabbed for my arm, and I shoved her off.

“You f*cking bitch,” she grunted, coming at me with a force I wasn’t expecting but should have prepared for. She pushed my shoulders to slam me against the door, but I slipped on the broom at my feet. Glass shattered around me, and fire shot through my arm when my elbow crashed through a panel of the door.

I screamed in pain, the jagged edges slicing into me. I cradled my elbow against me. Blood ran between my fingers, dripping onto the floor. I continued to groan through clamped teeth with the shards digging into my flesh.

“What the hell is going on?!” George exclaimed, running up the stairs to the deck. He froze outside the door at the sight of the broken glass and me on the floor, soaked in blood. His eyes trailed up to Carol, and he stared at her in abhorrent shock.

“George,” she gasped, “it was an accident. She slipped, I swear.”

“Don’t just stand there,” he yelled. “Get her a towel.” Carol rushed to the bathroom, obeying his command.

George opened the door as much as he could with my collapsed body still in front of it, paralyzed with shock. He slipped through and bent down to examine the damage.

“I need to take you to the hospital,” he concluded. “There’s still glass in the cuts, and you probably need stitches.”

Warm tears slid down my face. George lifted me just as Carol was returning with a towel. Her eyes pleaded with George. He grabbed the towel from her without giving her a glance and carefully wrapped it around my arm to catch the flowing blood.

“George, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered.

“We’ll talk about this when I get back,” he snapped still unable to look at her. He opened the door for me, and I followed him to his truck wordlessly. He didn’t say anything either as he opened the passenger door. I climbed in, exhaling with an aggravated grunt as the movement forced the splinters in deeper.

The silence continued until we arrived at the hospital. We were admitted immediately and enclosed by curtains in the emergency room. The doctor examined the cuts before numbing the area to remove the glass and assess which cuts needed stitches.

I sat on the bed mindlessly listening to the chunks of glass cling as they hit the bottom of the metal bowl. I couldn’t stop the flowing tears that was dripping from my chin as much as I tried to swallow them away. I shivered when the doctor poked and examined the exposed tissue for additional slivers. I eventually surrendered to the nothingness while the needle pulled the torn skin together.

George tensed when the doctor asked me to explain how it happened. My lying had become more convincing over the past couple of months, so the story of slipping backward on the wet floor spilled out easily. I didn’t care if the doctor believed me, but he didn’t seem to doubt me. We were there several hours before we were finally on our way home.

“I’m going to take care of this,” George stated lowly during our drive home. “Just go to your room, and let me handle it, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“There has to be a way for the two of you to live together,” he mumbled to himself.

I knew by his tone that he still believed I had as much to do with this, if not more, than she did. I clenched my teeth, clearly understanding that he would always side with her, and as long as he did, she would never stop.

I expected Carol’s car to be gone when we arrived home. I didn’t know why I expected it. Maybe I was hoping she would’ve left. But her blue Jeep sat motionless in the driveway when we pulled in behind it. I slid down from the passenger seat, careful of my bandaged arm, and lumbered silently into the house.

Carol had swept up the glass and taped a piece of clear plastic to the door, covering the hole the shattered pane left behind. She was nowhere to be seen as I walked to my room, closing the door behind me. My arm was still numb for the most part, but it was already starting to throb. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, too exhausted to succumb to either anger or sadness. I allowed my thoughts to dull, enveloped by numbness, comforting me like a familiar blanket.

I heard a murmur of heated voices upstairs and the cries of Leyla and Jack. I closed my eyes to block it out. I thought I recognized her sobbing voice, pleading with him. Then there was silence. He came down the stairs and walked into the kitchen. The exhaustion eventually won over and I drifted to sleep.





I didn’t wake until the morning. I blinked, realizing I was still dressed and lying on top of my bedding. I glanced at the clock; my alarm was ten minutes away from going off.

I propped myself up. The sharp fire shot through my arm. I bolted upright, drawing in a quick breath through my teeth. The doctor told me I couldn’t get the stitches wet for the first twenty-four hours, and so the thought of how I would manage a shower made me collapse onto my back again with a frustrated sigh. Then I thought of how I still had to face Sara and Evan, and I groaned. Wasn’t there any way I could avoid going to school today?

I opted for a sponge bath, to avoid the impossibility of a one armed shower, and put my hair up so it wasn’t obvious that I hadn’t washed it. I noticed the house was eerily still when I walked out of the bathroom. I paused in the hall, not hearing a sound except for the hum of the refrigerator.

I cautiously walked into the kitchen, listening intently. There was no movement in the kitchen or the dining room. A bag was set on the island with a note attached to it, next to a key.

This is the ointment to put on your stitches twice a day. Carol is staying with her mother for a few days. She just needs space. Everything will be different. Use the key to lock up when you leave.

I read the note over several times, shaking my head. He really believed it was going to be different? The tears welled in my eyes, forcing their way down my cheeks. I wiped them away and swallowed the lump in the back of my throat.

I put the bag of bandages and ointment on my desk and gathered my books before leaving the house to meet Evan. I locked the kitchen door behind me, struck by the distinct click of the bolt when I turned the key - a sound that I’d never made before. I continued to fight against the tears before clomping down the stairs.

“Is she here?” Evan asked quietly after I shut the car door behind me. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he noticed. As much as I was hoping the long sleeved shirt would conceal my bandages, the bulky wrap left a distinct bulge. I suppose my sunken frame clued him in as well.

“No,” I whispered, looking out the window. “She’s staying with her mother for a few days.”

“You can’t stay here anymore.”

“I know,” I mouthed, unable to make a sound. My eyes stung as I blinked back the tears unable to look at him. My mind remained blank, not wanting to think of what his words really meant. We drove in silence the entire way to school.

When we pulled into the school’s parking lot, Evan shut off the car and shifted his body to face me.

“Emma?” he beckoned softly, making me turn towards him. “Are you okay?” I shook my head.

His hand brushed along my cheek, and I collapsed into his arms, sobbing against his chest. He held me until I couldn’t cry anymore. I brushed the tears from my face and looked up into his glassy eyes. Seeing the pain in them tore at my heart. He kissed me softly, keeping his eyes closed when I pulled away.

“Do you want to go now?” he asked, when he was able to look at me again.

“Now?” I choked.

“Why not? What are we waiting for?”

The understanding of what he wanted to do suddenly weighed heavily in my stomach. Images of packing my bags and escaping with him ran through my head, causing my throat to close and adrenaline to rush through my veins. It was too much for me to process.

“Tomorrow,” I implored, needing one more day to collect my thoughts. “She’s not staying at the house tonight. Let me have the night to pack, and we can leave tomorrow, whenever you want.”

Evan studied my face as I pleaded with my eyes.

“No one will be home when you leave in the morning, right?” he confirmed.

“Right.”

“Then when I pick you up tomorrow morning, have whatever you want to take ready, and we’re gone.”

My heart skipped a beat as I nodded. Could I really do this? Leave everything behind and risk my entire future to escape her? Allowing her to destroy me didn’t seem right, not after everything I’d been through. I needed the twenty-four hours to decide what to do.

Evan and I missed homeroom and had to stop at the office for tardy slips before going to Art class. We were quiet while we walked the halls together. But he never left my side, holding my hand or wrapping his arm around me as I floated alongside him to each class. His strength kept me moving forward, and it was also tearing me apart.

“You’re going to do what?!” Sara questioned fervently when Evan told her what we were planning. “How is that going to work? How long will you be gone?”

I could only stare at her since I didn’t have the answers. She verbalized the same questions that ran through my head.

“I have a plan,” was all Evan would reveal. “I’ll tell you later, I promise.”

Sara shook her head in amazement at what it had finally come to. She mimicked my every thought with her actions and words.

Before we could discuss it further, there was an announcement requesting my presence in the vice principal’s office. Sara and Evan became still as a few heads turned toward me curiously. My stomach wrapped itself around a fiery ball of nerves when I stood to leave. Evan got up to go with me.

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I’ll see you in Journalism.”

My feet felt heavy as they unwillingly carried my body down the hall to the vice principal’s office. Mr. Montgomery was standing outside his door, awaiting my arrival. When I entered the room, my chest flickered with nerves as I glanced around at the faces seated along the conference table.

“Emily,” Mr. Montgomery stated with a voice of authority, “please take a seat.”

Still staring from eye to eye, I slid onto the chair at the end of the table. Why were they here? But I knew, clenching my jaw to fight the lump in my throat. I collected myself before their betrayal could completely break me. My back stiffened, preparing for what would come next.

“We’re all here because we’re concerned about you,” Mr. Montgomery’s deep voice boomed across the table, so stiff and diplomatic, without a hint of compassion. “We want you to explain how you get your injuries. Is someone hurting you?”

“No,” I shook my head adamantly, my defenses kicking in.

“Emma,” Coach Straw said, her approach warmer than his, but it still rang with an accusatory undertone. “We know you’re not accident prone like you’d like us to believe. We just want to know what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” I snapped back, overly guarded.

“We’re not here to make things harder for you,” Ms. Mier explained in her melodic voice, empathy pouring from her. “We’re here because we truly care about you and want to help you.”

Looking into her gentle brown eyes caused the lump to rise in my throat again. How could she have done this to me?! I swallowed hard.

“I swear, there’s nothing to protect me from,” I protested. My cracking voice betrayed me.

“Is Evan Mathews hurting you?” Mr. Montgomery interrogated. I widened my eyes, appalled at his accusation. Ms. Mier shot him the same look.

“Evan would never hurt me,” I growled, infuriated by the allegation. My bite made them all sit back in their chairs.

“I know that,” Ms. Mier soothed. “But someone is. Please tell us.”

“I can’t.” I choked on the knot in my throat. I ground my teeth together, trying to fight against the tears collecting in my eyes with exaggerated blinks.

“Emma, I know this is hard,” Ms. Farkis, the school psychologist interjected, “but we promise that no one will hurt you because you told us. We’ll make sure of it.”

“You don’t know that,” I whispered. They stared at me in silence, waiting. I clenched my fists against the table, needing to escape. “I can’t do this.”

I stood up and rushed out the door. I heard the screech of chairs when a few stood to follow me.

“Let her go,” Ms. Farkis advised.

I ran down the hall in a blur of tears. I wiped my face and tried to breathe evenly when I approached the Journalism room. I didn’t care whose attention I got first, one of them had to notice. Sara was staring out the small window of the door, so it was an easy choice. She excused herself to the bathroom and met me in the hall.

“We have to leave,” I blurted, rushing toward our lockers.

“What happened?”

“They’re trying to figure out what’s going on, but I wouldn’t tell them. Sara, I have to get out of here.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Let’s go back to my house so that I can pack; then I don’t care where we go.”

“Do you want me to get Evan?”

“Not yet. Not until we can figure out where to meet him. They actually had the nerve to ask if he was hurting me.”

“What?! Are they really that stupid?” she exclaimed incredulously.

We grabbed our bags. I didn’t bother to put any books in it, not knowing if I would ever need them again. We flew down the side stairs, avoiding the main doors. Sara ran to get her car while I waited for her against the side of the building. My pulse raced, and my whole body quivered, unable to stand still while I kept watch for her car.

I ran to the car when she pulled around and sunk onto the seat, trying to find comfort now that we were driving away - but I couldn’t. This all felt wrong, and it was happening way too fast. My brain couldn’t make sense of it, and I was overwhelmed with fear. Was I doing the right thing, or was I overreacting?

Sara remained silent during the drive to my house. I was so lost in my questions and doubting thoughts, that I didn’t realize when we had turned onto my street. Sara’s pocket buzzed and she looked at her phone.

“Hi,” she answered, glancing at me. “Yeah, we’re going to her house to get her things.”

She listened for a minute and pressed her lips together.

“Evan, I’m still not sure that’s the best idea.” She listened again. “Okay, we’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“What did he say?” I asked when she hung up.

“We’re going to meet him at his house in an hour. Em, I’m not sure that you taking off to who knows where is the best answer. I still think there’s a way out of this without you having to leave.”

“I know,” I agreed lowly. “But let’s at least hear him out.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Sara asked, glancing at the empty house.

“No, I won’t be long.”





“Emily?” George’s voice hollered after I heard the click of the back door.

I continued throwing things in my bags, ignoring him when he walked into my room. He took in the bags on my bed with confusion.

“What do you think you’re doing?! I received a call from the school saying you left upset and that they wanted us to come in to talk with them. What did you say?!”

“Don’t worry, George,” I turned to face him, raising my voice, “I didn’t say anything to them! But I can’t stay here and live like this anymore! I can’t live with her!”

He flinched at the anger in my voice. The alien tone was as difficult for him to hear as it was for me to project.

“You’re not leaving here,” he stated sternly, between clenched teeth. “Listen, we will straighten this whole thing out, but you are not leaving this house. Do you understand me?”

The underlying threat in his voice knocked me back. Could I walk past him? Would he let me? Should I sneak out the window after he leaves me alone?

I watched his posture soften and sadness wash over his face. I silently took notice of the resigned transformation.

“I understand you’re upset. And I promise you, we’ll figure out a way to work this out. None of us can live like this anymore. But leaving right now is not going to help anything. Carol’s staying with her mother tonight.

“We’ll go to the school together tomorrow and straighten everything out. There’s no need for anyone to get hurt by this. Just stay until tomorrow, and if you still want to leave after the meeting, we’ll make arrangements. Okay?”

My mind raced. Did he mean it? Would he let me leave tomorrow? I wouldn’t have to fly off to wherever Evan had planned to take me - I could stay here? Just one more night.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Why don’t you go tell Sara that you’ll see her tomorrow.”

I slowly walked to Sara’s car, still trying to decide if I was making the right decision. Something in the depths of my stomach was begging for me to leave.

“I’m going to stay,” I told Sara quietly.

“What do you mean?” Sara questioned in a panic.

“She’s not staying here tonight. We’re going in to the school tomorrow morning to clear everything up, and he said that I could leave if I still wanted to after the meeting.”

“You believe him?” she asked, still uneasy.

“I have to,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. “He’s giving me an out without having to hurt anyone or run away.”

Sara got out of her car and hugged me. We wiped the tears from our eyes when we finally let go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” my voice rasped.

“Okay,” she whispered, sniffling. “What do I tell Evan? He’s not going to be happy when I show up without you. He’s probably going to want to come here to get you.”

“Sara, he can’t,” I pleaded. “Convince him that everything will be okay and I’ll see him tomorrow. Please, can you do that?”

“I’ll try.”

“Make him listen. I promise everything will be okay.”