Breathe In Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

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  Breathe In

  By Michelle Bellon

  BREATHE IN

  Copyright © 2017 by Michelle Bellon.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: June 2017

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-128-9

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-128-5

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all the women of the world who have survived abuse of any kind. You have faced a darkness and fear that most have not. Your heart and soul have overcome doubt, insecurity, and hopelessness. And in the midst of it all, you dug deep and found your inner warrior. You screamed at the top of your lungs to let loose of your rage. Then, when you felt your power again, you fought and remained true to your will to survive.

  You are a force to be reckoned with.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

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  As the Phoenix eternally rises from the flames,

  So shall she

  CHAPTER ONE

  I grip the steering wheel and focus on my breath in an effort to steady my shaky hands. Breathe in. Breathe out. I can do this. I gaze up the long driveway toward the house through my car window. It sits tucked away from the road in a cove of evergreens. An immaculately decorative landscape sprawls before the stone home. Amber lights filter out of the windows, adding warmth to the otherwise cold exterior. It’s impressive. Bold. Like Tom, it quietly exudes money and power. I’ve never been to his home before. He never invited me. Though it stung a bit, I figured he was waiting until our relationship progressed.

  Even with a thin gray mist blanketing the scene, I feel oddly conspicuous. Am I the crazy stalker girlfriend? Have I overstepped my boundaries by looking up where he lived and showing up unannounced?

  Groping through the contents of my purse, a sense of relief rises to the surface when I feel my phone. I hold my breath. Please, please, please.

  As I press my thumb to the sensor, the phone recognizes my print and the screen comes alive. Scan notifications. One missed call. Click. Shit, it was my mom. Another kind of dread fills me. I’m not up for a conversation with her tonight. Click over to text messages. Two from Gerald. Scroll right past it. I’m not in the mood for him and his needy bullshit right now. Terin. I’ll read it later. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Click back and forth, checking again.

  Nothing from Tom. Disappointment swallows my entire being. My body grows heavy. Sour resentment rises in my throat.

  Why is the wrong guy so relentless in his pursuit while the other blows me off? It’s completely backward. How am I so thoroughly messing this up? Tom hasn’t called or texted back in almost a week. He’s clearly avoiding me. Maybe I had been too clingy before. Maybe I’d—

  Stop. Just stop. Those are negative thought patterns. There’s probably a good reason I haven’t heard from him. He could be very busy with work. He could be out of town. Maybe he’s not feeling well. That thought worries me. Maybe he needs help, someone to care for him?

  My heart races, my movements are quick and jerky as I slide out of the Subaru Outback, pretending I’m not anxious to see him as I face his home. Why do I do that? Try to fool myself? I mean, how can one even accomplish such a task? You can’t really, because it’s…well, it’s impossible. You’re the one thinking the thoughts, so you cannot hide them from yourself. Yet, I try. Why is this?

  The banter in my brain is ridiculous. Two dichotomous personalities consistently bickering. Both of them annoying. Always. Stop. Just stop.

  I shut the driver’s side door and take in a deep, cleansing breath, closing my eyes and letting the day go with my exhale. I’ve been practicing this a lot lately. Breathing. Letting go. Sounds easy, but it’s actually quite difficult for me. Every night for the last few weeks, my nightly ritual before bed has been listening to fifteen-minute guided meditations. I put my earbuds in, close my eyes, and listen to the gentleman’s calm, hypnotic voice, telling me that regret is living in the past, anxiety is living in the future. Hyper-focusing on either is a waste of time and harmful. It causes stress, which can poison the mind and body.

  Yeah, tell me about it.

  So I breathe in and I breathe out. Letting it go. Except it doesn’t work. A mixture of panic and anticipation breaks through as I walk toward his home, my heels clicking on the sidewalk. I stare at the French doors for what feels like an eternity before I finally knock on the door.

  Moments later, the door swings open and Tom’s confident presence fills the entryway. I both love and fear this about him.

  “Tessa, what are you doing here?” He steps out of the front door and closes it behind him, as if he doesn’t want anyone who may be inside to hear us. I shuffle backward and bring my arms in tight to my side to make room on the porch, feeling it necessary to make myself smaller than I already feel.

  His reaction is a mix of surprise and disappointment and, maybe, a little anger? I’m suddenly acutely aware that I’ve made a huge mistake. I cringe and wish I’d never been such a stupid girl. “Tom! Hi.” I clear my voice, hoping to bring it down an octave so I don’t sound like a school girl. “I…uh…well, you hadn’t answered my texts and I was beginning to worry. I thought maybe you were sick…or…I don’t know. I shouldn’t have dropped by like this.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have.”

  His sharp tone has me taking a clumsy step backward. “I’m sorry. I…” Unable to finish my sentence, I wait for him
to jump in and explain what is going on.

  “How did you find out where I live?”

  An uncomfortable silence lingers between us as I strain to find the right words, any words, to answer the question.

  He shakes his head. “Never mind. This is my fault. I should have responded to your texts and just told you I can’t see you anymore.”

  My head spins. The world tilts. A daunting thought washes over me. “Oh, my god, you’re married.” I want to die.

  “Look, Tessa.” He takes a step toward me, his six-foot-two frame reminding me how meager my own is at five-four. “I’m not married. I’m just a very private person. I always have been and I want to keep it that way.”

  “So that’s it? You’re ending what we have, just like that?” The pitch of my voice is embarrassingly high, but I can’t seem to control the way I’m escalating.

  “What we have? Tessa, we’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks.” Tom stares down at me, his brows pinched in mixed emotions. I can’t tell if he’s sad, frustrated, amused, or just feels sorry for me.

  A wave of embarrassment floods over me. My heartbeat pulses throughout my body, echoing the impending sense of doom that quickens my breath. “Yeah, but it was a great couple of weeks. Almost two months, actually. And we’ve been together almost every day since we met. I thought things were going really well. This is just a shock. I don’t understand what’s going on. If you’re not married, then what? Did I do something wrong?”

  He closes his eyes and sighs before answering. “It’s not that you did anything wrong. It’s just that I don’t really see it going anywhere. Besides, what about that Gerald guy you were seeing before?”

  “Gerald? I told you. I stopped seeing him after that first day you and I spent time together. He…he’s contacted me but, I’m…Gerald isn’t what I want.”

  “Look, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I like you. You’re…sweet. But I don’t have time for a fling. And you can’t be here, so just leave.”

  I flinch at the bark of his tone. I’m sweet? A fling? Just leave?

  Grasping for dignity, I take three shaky steps backward. My ankle rolls but I stumble and catch myself before I fall on my ass. Searing pain shoots hot through the tendons of my lower leg. My lips pinch to hold in the gasp of pain. Without saying another word, I turn and bolt down the driveway. The slap of my shoes against the pavement reverberates into the cool air, echoing my shame. My ankle throbs with each motion. Confused and frightened, I slide into my car, start the engine, and pull away from the curb. My hands shake so hard I can hardly grasp the steering wheel.

  What in the hell just happened?

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Let it go. Tears roll down my cheeks in a steady stream as I drive away.

  ***

  Parking across the street from my brownstone, I scan the dark streets before turning off my vehicle. Tom made fun of my fear of the dark. “You’re too skittish,” he said, “like a beaten dog, and you need to find your backbone. No one likes a wimp.” Tom can be a bit harsh like that. Or as he’d say, “direct and to the point.” Well, he was certainly to the point today. No holds barred. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s right. I do need to stand up for myself. I wish I had stood up for myself in front of his home earlier. Told him he couldn’t treat me so terribly, at the very least. Like that would have done any good.

  It also doesn’t change the fact that these streets are a bit frightening, even during the day. I’d have never chosen to live in this part of town of my own accord. But when my grandmother passed and left the small unit to me, I had no other choice. As a student, still struggling to finish my doctorate of philosophy, I felt only gratitude for the sudden change in my living situation.

  I’d just finished my master’s in English literature and resigned myself to the idea that I’d have to wait to move on to the doctorate program when I received the news that I’d inherited the home. I’d no idea I was even in the will. Free accommodations are a godsend to a stressed and struggling student.

  Grabbing my keys and purse, I wait until the street is clear of traffic. I note the glisten of the wet pavement from the earlier rainfall and my shoes don’t have the best traction. I want to slide out of the car, cross the street, and retreat to the sanctuary of my home as quickly as possible, without slipping and breaking an ankle.

  Ready, go. Open the car door. Step out, look right and left. Close door. Scurry across the street, making sure to keep my feet low to the ground for solid placement amongst the fallen golden leaves smushed against the pavement. Quick leap to the curb. Almost there. My keys slip from my fingers as my feet hit the sidewalk. Shit. I stop to pick them up. Out of the corner of my eye, movement catches my attention. My heart rate flutters nervously under my thin skin. Stooped over, I turn to see a woman standing at the curb about fifteen feet away. Nothing to worry about. My heart slows down.

  I’ve seen her before. Thigh-high boots. No stockings or jacket, though it’s cold out. Hair cropped short, in purposeful disarray. Clearly a hooker, she’s decided this part of town is more profitable as of the last month or so, and frequents this area often. As I stand up and put my keys into my peacoat pocket, she turns and locks eyes with mine. She squints ever so slightly, measuring me up. I wonder if she thinks I’m judging her. Am I? What must her life be like? What events have pushed her to a life of prostitution? How does she swallow the fear? Are we really so different, she and I? After the way I just let Tom humiliate me, like so many of my other boyfriends have, I’m not sure I like the obvious answer to that question.

  Her lips purse together tightly as she shakes her head and turns away, as if disgusted.

  I take in a short gasp. I’m the one who has been judged. She recognized my fear and it sickened her. Heat rises to my face and I hike my purse onto my shoulder before scurrying up the stairs, anxious to hide from this hideous day. Could it get any worse?

  “Tessa.”

  Two stairs up, I stop mid-step and glance upward toward the male voice. My heart sinks. Things just got worse. “Gerald.” My voice cracks. “What are you doing here?”

  Gerald stands on the top stoop, staring down at me with a pathetic look of desperate hope dripping from his gaunt features. What did I ever see in him? Was I really that lonely?

  He steps forward and offers me a hand. “Come on out of the cold and we’ll talk.” His voice has always struck me as oddly deep compared to his looks. Like James Earl Jones bred with Popeye’s girlfriend, Olive Oyl, and Gerald was the result. I ignore his offer for assistance and remain rooted on the spot, staring up at him incredulously.

  “Gerald, it’s been a long day. I’m not up for company right now. I just want to go home and crawl into bed.”

  His lips press together so tight that they blanch white and the upper right side twitches. He gives an almost unperceivable nod of the head, as if clearing his thoughts, brushing away the rush of agitation. The previous look of calm concern returns as he offers a forced smile. The wave of anger that flashed over his features was so quick I almost didn’t catch it. Almost.

  He takes a step back and clasps his hands together, as if showing he’s retreating and harmless. “I’m sorry you had a long day. Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped by unannounced, but I began to worry when you didn’t respond to my texts. It’s been nearly a week since we spoke last.”

  I finally trod up the last few steps. “Gerald, I told you, I just don’t see a future between us. I’m not really interested in a relationship right now.” It’s hard not to grimace as my words essentially echo what Tom just said to me only moments ago.

  “You mean you’re not interested in a relationship with me. But I know you’ve been hanging out with that new Tom fellow, the suit. I bet you want a relationship with him. Is that where you were just now?”

  “First of all, I’m not in a relationship with anyone. And second of all, it’s none of your business.”

  He blinks three times, as if suppressing another fleet
ing emotion. “So you’re not seeing him?”

  Closing my eyes, I rub my right temple and wish to God this day was over. “No, Gerald. I’m not seeing him. I’m not seeing you. I’m not seeing anyone.” I look up. “I just want to go to bed. I don’t feel good.”

  His expression softens. “You poor thing. I’m sorry I came over like this. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just concerned. Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?”

  “No, not really.” A small part of me softens to his kindness. I wish I could muster feelings for this guy. He really is sweet to me when he’s not being so overly persistent, so clingy. I just can’t force what isn’t there.

  He hesitates. Looks down the street as if searching for what to say two buildings down. Looks back. “All right, well, I’d better be going then. If there’s anything you need, just call.”

  I nod. “Okay.” I just want to be left alone.

  He traipses down the steps, pauses on the stair below me, turns, and places a wet kiss on my cheek. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

  I suppress a shiver. Please don’t. “Fine.”

  I hold my breath while I watch him get into his car and drive away. Anxiety and relief flood my system as I turn and bolt up the stairs. The building is locked for the evening, so I scramble for the keys in my pocket and quickly open the door.

  I love that wonderful, safe sound of the click as it locks into place. Push thoughts aside. Turn and walk down the hall to my door. Unlock and step inside. Yet another layer of safety as I lock both the handle and the bolt. I’m home.

  In the sanctuary of my building, socks keep my feet warm as I pace around the kitchen, trying to make sense of today’s unexpected turn of events. My cell phone sits on the counter silently, next to a plate of untouched cheese and crackers. I keep it close, just in case Tom calls to apologize or at least explain. He will, won’t he? A siren screams in the distance and I pretend it’s not there. Someone hasn’t committed a crime or suffered a terrible injury. Too gruesome of an idea for the evening. I’m tired and a bit frazzled, but trying my best to find a calm end to the day.