Breathe for Me

by Rhonda Helms

  After a minute, Aggie returns. “Okay, I’m free on Thursday in the evening. Will that work?”

  I glance at Dominic, who nods. “Sure,” I tell her, getting out of the seat. “Thanks for fitting us in.”

  Aggie scrawls in her book, closes it and looks at Dominic and me. A frown creases her brow, and she stares into my eyes for so long I start to squirm in my seat. “Sacrifice,” she says. Her speech is low, drawn-out, not at all how she normally sounds.

  The air freezes in my lungs, and I stare at her for a long second. “What?”

  She blinks suddenly and takes my hand, pasting on a big, fake smile. “Hm, odd. I don’t know why I said that.” She releases me, clasping her hands in her lap. “Anyway, thanks for stopping by.”

  But I know Aggie’s seen something—she has that look in her eyes. I want to ask her to clarify what she said, but I’m petrified and can’t speak. The word keeps replaying in my head. Is that the only way I can get my freedom, through some kind of sacrifice? Maybe Thursday’s reading will hold more answers.

  I need time to think.

  I tug Dominic out of the chair. “We have to go now. Please.”

  He fixes me with a confused and slightly irritated look at being jerked from his seat but thankfully remains silent.

  Sacrifice. Aggie’s word silenced me, and I sit quietly the whole ride back to my apartment. Dominic doesn’t speak either; instead, his eyes stay fixed on the road ahead of him as he drives.

  I’m unsure of how to break the tension. I can sense he wants more from me than I can give, but I can’t risk distancing him, scaring him off. Then again, I’m alienating him with my half-lies, my silence. His patience won’t last forever. Which is really the better option here?

  I shift in my seat, leaning my head back against the headrest. My eyes close of their own volition, and I slip into a quick, dreamless sleep.

  When I wake up, we’re in a parking spot on the street across from my apartment. I don’t know how long we’ve been here, but the sky is filled with dark blues and purples. The sun has already set.

  I dare a glance at the driver’s side. Dominic rests back in his seat, his eyes closed. His chest rises and falls in a slow, deep rhythm. I’m afraid to move or speak, not wanting to wake him up.

  “I’m awake,” he says, his eyes still closed. I feel the wall between us growing thicker, stronger, its mortar filled with mute awkwardness.

  I sit for a moment, torn. I should leave, should keep him pushed away from me like he is right now. Because if freedom is going to require a sacrifice of some kind, like Aggie hinted, I’m afraid of what it could be. How far I’m going to have to go to loose my bonds. And I don’t want to let him down if I can’t meet the goal.

  But I don’t want to leave him.

  The air in the car is warm, tinged with his earthy cologne. I breathe him in, relish his scent. Almost desperate to bury my face in his neck and taste his skin. I’ve never wanted so badly to have those sensory experiences I’m missing out on.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. Two words can’t pour enough of my feelings out, can’t open my heart and show him how I ache for things to be different. But I can’t seem to get anything else past my closed throat.

  He turns his head and opens his eyes. In the dimming light, they look dark and moody. “No apologies, remember?” He offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. My heart squeezes—even disappointed, he’s ever the gentleman. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

  “No,” I blurt out. A sudden swell of panic overcomes me. If we leave it like this, everything will be changed. The closeness we’ve achieved will be shifted into a distant companionship, one that will fade into nothingness.

  Trust me, he told me before. He won’t hurt me. Can I trust him with my secret? He wants to know the real me. Can I find the courage inside to share it with him, to risk his fear or scorn or disbelief?

  Dominic lifts his head and stares straight at me. “What do you want, Isabel?”

  I force myself to say the words that have rested on the tip of my tongue from the moment I realized I wanted to know him better. The ones I haven’t even dared to speak to Samantha. “I want to tell you the truth. About me.”

  He blinks, then pulls his key out of his car and gets out. He runs around the back, opening my door, and guides me out. He pauses. “Are you sure?”

  I nod, then lead him through the courtyard and up to my apartment. I scope it out first, making sure Sitri isn’t there, and gesture for him to have a seat. My legs are jittery, my fingers twisting each other into painful bends. Sweat drips down the side of my neck, down my back. I swipe it away, wiping my damp, gloved palm on the thigh of my jeans.

  Where do I start?

  “You can take your gloves off,” he says quietly. His eyes follow me as I pace back and forth. “Make yourself a little more comfortable.”

  It takes a few moments to pull the gloves off, since they stick to my sweaty skin. I fling them onto the back of the chair, then take a seat there myself, rubbing my bare hands against my knees.

  “Okay,” I say, willing the right words to come to me. Can I do this? Am I ready? Because once I reveal the truth to him, I can’t go back. I force myself on. “I realize this is going to sound crazy, but Aggie’s…word touched on a lot of sore spots. Ones that have been an issue for a very, very long time.”

  He nods slightly and remains silent. His eyes are calm, his posture relaxed. He’s allowing me all the time in the world to speak.

  “I’m not—I’m not who you think I am.” I consider my next words. “The guy you saw in the library isn’t my ex-boyfriend. He’s…he’s my captor.”

  Dominic’s eyes squint, and a frown line creases between his brows. “I don’t understand. Are you in danger?”

  I raise a hand. “Just hear me through. I need to spit this out. And if you think I’m crazy and walk out of here and never want to speak to me again, I’ll completely understand.”

  Courage, Isabel.

  I turn my eyes down to my lap and begin. “A long time ago, my parents forced my engagement to someone I hated.” Even now, after all this time, the memory of Mr. Baker’s rancid hot breath in my ear turns my stomach, memories of him whispering the vile things he was going to do to me when we were married. “He was in his fifties, a widowed landowner with several young kids. He wanted a young wife to care for them. My parents thought it would be a move up for us. They said I was lucky to attract such attention.”

  I draw several ragged breaths. Dominic remains silent; I can’t even hear him breathing. I’m too afraid to look into his eyes, knowing I’ll see disbelief. I’m risking everything to spill out these words that have festered in my gut for so long.

  “But what I wanted was to be free,” I continued. “To travel and see the world. To learn and experience things for myself. Not to be attached to any one person, especially a man who would smother the life out of me by stealing my freedom.

  “The night before our wedding, I hid under a big tree and cried, begging to God, to whomever was out there listening, that I needed help. And then he came.”

  “God?” Dominic asked quietly.

  A bitter laugh slips from my lips. “No. Sitri. He’d slipped beside me so quietly I hadn’t even heard him approach. He was so kind, so empathetic, asking me why I was sad. Before I knew it, I’d told him everything.” I pause as I remember that night in vivid detail. How even the wind itself had silenced when Sitri spoke to me. “He told me there was a way out. A way to be free from the shackles and slavery of men.

  “I was dumb. I didn’t know better. All I saw in my haste were the immediate results. It wasn’t until afterward—” I pause, gather my breath. My fingers are white from being clenched so tightly. I release them and force myself to relax, turning my eyes back to his face. “It wasn’t until after I’d signed the contract that I realized exactly what I’d sold myself into.”

  A fate worse than marriage. Worse than death itself.

  “Sitri
is a—” say it, Isabel, “—a demon.”

  Dominic blinks, his eyebrows darting high. “What?”

  “I know, it sounds ridiculous. But it’s true. He granted my wish, but in the most hellish way possible. Yes, I get to travel—every few months, Sitri takes me to another new and exciting land. But he completely wipes my memory of the one before. And no man can tie me down—in fact, no one can touch me because my skin is cursed to burn any breathing, living being that comes in contact with it. And if I kiss, or am kissed, that person instantly dies.” The bitterness, the anger is spewing forth from me, and my words tumble out faster and faster. “So I lied to you. I lied to everyone. I’m not sick, but I can’t tell anyone why I have to dress and act the way I do.”

  He sits back in the seat, his gaze skittering away from me. “I don’t know what to say. This sounds…” His words fade off into incredulous silence.

  I feel him pulling away but make myself keep talking, turning my attention back to my hands. Now it’s a sick compulsion to get it all off my chest. “I know. That’s hard enough to swallow, right? But the worst part—” I scoff because really, it’s all bad, if I’m being honest with myself, “—is that Sitri has given me what he considers a ‘gift’—I can tell the lifespan of every living thing that draws a breath. A constant reminder of my immortality, my ties to him. I know when every person and every animal is going to die, assuming no trauma or accident happens. I literally see how many breaths are left in their bodies.”

  Hot tears flood my eyes, streak down my cheeks. I swipe them away. “So this has been my life. A bitter, vicious cycle I’ve been stuck in for hundreds and hundreds of years.” With the last of those words, I fall silent. I am sick, empty, drained from the liberation of telling someone my truth.

  When I finally dare to look over at Dominic, he stares at me, his face unreadable. After several long moments that stretch out into eternity, he opens his mouth. “Is this true?”

  I nod, embarrassed. Knowing how ridiculous I must sound, how impossible this story must be for him to believe. If I were him, I’d call me a crazy liar and storm out of the apartment. Gone forever.

  “Can you prove it?” he asks. His voice is cautious, not overly warm, but he’s not shutting me out.

  “Well, if I touch something living, I’ll burn it.” I shove my sleeve up my arm. “Feel my skin if you want, but do it quickly. It’s like touching a stove top.”

  He stares at me for a long moment, and I can almost see the internal debate. Finally, one eyebrow raised, he glances a bare finger across my skin, hissing in surprise as he pulls it away. His jaw drops, and he blinks. “It’s impossibly hot.”

  I give a sad nod as I tug the sleeve back into place. “I’m sorry.” I pause. “You actually saw Sitri at the library the other day, even if you didn’t know who he was at the time.”

  Dominic stands. “I see.” His gaze is hooded. He gets up and moves to the kitchen, turning on the faucet and thrusting his finger under the stream of water.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say again, trying to let the urgency of my emotions come through in my voice. “I just…I can’t tell anyone the truth about me. I don’t want to hurt anyone. That’s why I bundle up, even in the summertime. I want people to be safe.”

  He shuts off the water, shakes the excess from his hand, then crosses his arms. “Why go to school, then? Why not just stay hidden away? That doesn’t make sense if all of this is true.”

  “Because I want to be around people. As long as I keep covered, no one will get hurt. And I don’t kiss anyone or get kissed, so there’s no danger there. I—” Tears sting the backs of my eyes again, steal my words. I swallow once, twice, and press the heels of my hands to my eyes. “I get so lonely by myself, and I don’t have anyone else to talk to. I just needed to…I needed to…”

  And then he’s in front of me, stroking my sleeved upper arms. “Don’t cry. This is just…this is a little bit much to swallow at once. How do I know you’re not just crazy about the…demon stuff? Or a pathological liar? Or that you have some kind of weird, rare disease that makes your skin feel like a furnace?”

  I stare into his eyes, blinking away my tears. “You don’t. Not for sure. The only thing you can do is trust my words.” I stop for a moment, realizing the enormity of what I’m asking. “But if you can’t,” I rush to continue, “it’s totally understandable. I’m not sure I would, if I were in your shoes.”

  His eyes are wide, no longer hooded from me. He stares into mine for what feels like an eternity. Then, he nods. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I believe, but I see that you believe it’s true.”

  Not full acceptance, but not a total rejection either. “That’s perfectly understandable.” The next words trip off my tongue. “And now that you know, I have to ask you to—”

  “Don’t worry, I promise not to tell anyone at school. Not that they’d believe me anyway, but your…secret is safe with me.”

  It’s a start, an assurance. It’s more than I’d hoped for, and I cling to it. “Thank you for not outright rejecting me.”

  He slips his hands down the lengths of my arms to my covered wrists and squeezes. “I can’t promise that I understand or that I believe. But I’m here to help you.” He bites his lip. “How much time do you have left?”

  “I still have a little bit of time.” My voice is just a whisper, the words tearing at my throat. I can’t tell him that Sitri’s hinting the end is near. I can’t risk pushing him away, as selfish as it seems. So I leave my answer vague, hopeful.

  He grips my wrists tighter. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Me neither,” I say. I want to tell him I’m trying to find a way to stay, but it would be terrible for me to get his hopes up if I can’t figure out a solution.

  I press my cheek against his chest, and he envelops me in his arms, careful not to touch my bare skin. We stand like this for a long time, the lengths of our bodies brushing each other, sharing the rises and falls of our chests.

  At school the next morning, I find Samantha by her locker. Oddly enough, I’m filled with a cautious optimism I haven’t had in so long. Not only do I feel lighter having told Dominic my secret, but Sitri left me alone last night. I was able to lie in bed for hours by myself, replaying the whole evening in my head over and over. Still smelling Dominic’s cologne on my hair, my clothes.

  Dominic doesn’t know what to believe, but he’ll see I’m telling the truth. He didn’t instantly run away last night. He stayed and even comforted me. That means something; I know it does. I cling to the hope stirring in my heart.

  Samantha closes her locker and glances up at me, then freezes. She looks odd as she scrutinizes me closely.

  I stop, feeling a sudden panic. “What’s wrong?”

  A grin breaks her face. “You look like you’re in love, Isabel.”

  “That’s because…I think I’m falling for him,” I say. Excitement spills from my voice. I can’t get Dominic out of my head. I’m eager and scared to see him today, praying he didn’t change his mind about me after having the night to think things over, too.

  Praying he still likes me as much as I do him.

  With huge eyes, she claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she says, her voice muffled but her squeaky enthusiasm still evident. “That’s awesome!”

  We walk down the hallway toward my locker. “I can’t stop thinking about him,” I admit to her.

  She nods. “I feel the same way about Rick. Oh, my God, we have to do a double date!” she cries out. “This will be the best ever. We can do all kinds of fun fall events and even start planning what we’re going to wear to the homecoming dance!”

  I swallow, and my gaze skitters across the floor in front of me. I want to be excited about the dance, but that dark voice in my head reminds me it’s not until end of September. And if I can’t break this curse, I’ll likely be gone by then.

  No, I’m not going down that road right now. Because last night, not only did I think about Dominic, I sti
rred up my courage to outright ask Sitri to free me. I’m willing to risk it all—for Samantha, for Dominic and, most importantly, for myself. I’ve found a home, and I’m not giving it up without trying. Sitri has been kind and generous recently; surely he’ll be open to talking about it.

  A growing part of me wants to tell Samantha the truth. How will she take it? Will she be repulsed? Pull away from me?

  After the plan works—I can tell her then, when my life is no longer at Sitri’s command. I just have to trust in our friendship. She deserves that from me.

  I force a grin on my face. “You’d better head to class,” I say to her just as the bell rings. “You’re going to get a detention if you’re late again.”

  Samantha gives my upper arm a light pinch. “Yes, Mom.” With a light skip, she heads down the hallway.

  I lean against the locker right beside mine and watch her go. Everything is so wonderful and scary and overwhelming, and I want more of this reality.

  I tug out my Algebra II book and head to class, pushing back the twinge of panic that numbs my limbs as soon as I step across the threshold. Mr. Morris isn’t back yet, so we have a substitute. After making my way back to my seat, I unload my notebook and book, my hands shaking. I press them onto the top of the desk to try to steady them.

  Becky, Alexis’s friend, glances back at me. “How ya doin’?” she asks, her voice warm with empathy.

  Normally, I would just nod and mumble something in reply. But I’m determined to make more of an effort with people, especially since they’re making an effort with me. “Doing okay. Just glad Mr. Morris is hanging in there. I was really scared.” I still can’t get his pale, waxen face out of my mind.

  Alexis snorted. “No kidding. Maybe this will teach him to mellow out.”

  “Hopefully he’ll get off your backs now,” I offer. “And stop being so stressed, too.”

  They both smile at me, then turn toward the front of the class when the substitute calls for our attention.