Breathless

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to any real person living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Text copyright ©2010 Heather C. Hudak

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

Breathless

Heather C. Hudak

Prologue

A few years. That was all the time I could safely manage to stay in one place without raising suspicion. After crossing the Atlantic some years ago, I quickly learned that Americans—much more so than Europeans—were attuned to the unusual activities of others. I was forced to move more frequently as a result.

Recent realizations had created an urgent need to relocate sooner than I had expected, wanted. Now, brown, double-walled boxes lined every inch of my fourth-floor, New York apartment as I prepared to once again venture into previously uncharted territory—for me anyway.

Moving. My least favorite activity. I was a
creature
of habit, so to speak, and the thought of driving cross-country made me cringe. For the average person, it would take several days to make the long trip. If I kept my wits about me, I could do it in less than thirty-six hours.

Though it had been a long time since I had last attended a high-school session, I imagined not much had changed. The halls would be filled with oodles of self-deprecating teens whose thoughts could only find faults within their own physical features and emotional shortcomings, too shallow to focus on the disturbing experiences of those who were truly suffering in far-less-attractive situations. Or, those who focused only on their own good fortune based on the fact that they had been blessed with external beauty...I shuddered at the thought of being forced to associate with such intolerable ignorance. However, I was eager to make the acquaintance of
the girl
—the real reason I was once again uprooting my entire existence in favor of life in a small, northern town.

Tape. It was the one thing that was preventing me from maintaining a flawless schedule based on a self-imposed deadline. All of the boxes had been filled, labeled, and sorted, but I lacked the means to seal them shut. Despite the subzero New-York climate, I had hoped to make the most of the trip with the ragtop down, so it wouldn’t do to leave the boxes open.

Chapter 1 - Sleep

I woke with a start. Breathless. My dream had been so vivid. The colors, faces, places…everything was so clear. But now, as I lay dazed, my head foggy with sleep, curled beneath the warmth of my heavy down duvet, I knew it had only been a dream.

The same dream had been filling my head for nearly three weeks. So long that, despite the fact that every moment was deliciously intriguing, it was beginning to feel like a nightmare. I had barely been able to focus on my chemistry labs, English essay, and history debate due to the intense lack of sleep I had experienced.

After waking at around 3:45 each morning, I could never seem to fall back to sleep. I kept replaying every minute detail in my head, over and over again. I wanted to hold on to every detail of the dream, but just as I would start to wrap my mind around the most obscure events, I would lose sight of the outcome. My mind wrestled with the images that fluttered behind my closed eyes as I squinted and concentrated on the same scene. Still, I couldn’t seem to put all of the pieces together. There was something disturbing that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

This morning was no different. Only, instead of giving in to the urge to replay the faded memories in my mind’s eye, I decided to fight it instead. Slowly, I crept down the stairs, quietly tiptoeing past my mother’s room. Not quietly enough though.

“
Sweetheart,” she called to me in a groggy voice. “Is that you? Is everything alright?”

“
Yes, mom. I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

She knew I hadn’t been sleeping well. It was all too obvious. I would pass out on the couch the minute I got home from school. And, my grades were suffering. I got Cs on my last two physics tests, and that just wasn’t like me. In fact, she talked about sending me to see a doctor, but I managed to convince her otherwise. For now, anyway.

Once I was downstairs, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard above the stove and walked to the fridge. Milk. Cool, refreshing milk. Just one glass, and I would head back to bed. I had barely started pouring the milk when I became abruptly aware that something just wasn’t right. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. I just knew it was. A cool breeze blew across my shoulders, and I jumped, dropping the glass in a surprised response.

“
Lia,” my mom shouted as she ran full throttle down the stairs. She flipped on the light switch, and I shielded my eyes against the bright glow. They throbbed as they adjusted. “Don’t move. Let me grab a broom. What happened?”

To be honest, I didn’t know what had happened. In fact, I couldn’t remember much of anything. All I knew is that one minute, I had been sleepless and seeking a cool refreshment. Now, I was surprisingly tired. I just wanted to run back upstairs to bed. A strange sensation swept over me at the same time as the cool breeze, but I couldn’t explain it. It was as if the two were connected. I felt settled, at ease. I must have been more tired than I had originally realized. That was the only explanation that made sense.

“
What happened,” she repeated, an air of urgency in her tone. “Honey, are you okay?”

In the light, I noticed a single drop of blood on my right hand. A small gash spread across my index finger. I thought I heard a sharp gasp, but when I looked at my mom, she seemed unaware. I decided that if I ever wanted to get back to bed, I should avoid revealing the slight injury. Besides, I couldn’t very well tell her that the chill of a mysterious breeze had made me tired and that this same seemingly supernatural sensation had caused me to drop the glass.

“
I’m fine mom. I just lost hold of the glass, that’s all.”

Fortunately, my mom seemed happy with that answer. In her sleepy state, she quickly swept the tiny shards from around me so that I could return to my slumber. Suddenly, I was so tired that I didn’t even feel badly about leaving her to clean up my mess. I ran up the stairs to my room, tripping absently over the cat that was lazing in the hall.

Walking in, I sensed a strange calm. It was eerie, and the room felt at least five degrees cooler than it had just a few moments earlier. I shuddered, and crawled under the thick quilt, almost instantly forgetting about the wound on my finger. The wind picked up outside, and I swear it sounded like it was singing me to sleep. I could almost make out the words. My imagination was working overtime. Soon, I was asleep.

The next sound I heard was the bleating of my alarm clock. It had been nearly a month since I had heard that sound. Usually, I was wide awake by the time the morning sun could creep through the slats in my bedroom blinds. This morning was different. I felt good. Really good. My head was clear, my body rested. A refreshing breeze blew through my open window. I hopped out of bed and started about my daily business.

My mom had already left for work, but she had placed a note on the table.

Good morning, sleepy head.

I missed our morning chat, but I’m glad to see you finally got some rest. Hope you’re okay and that you didn’t cut yourself last night. You looked a little pale. Don’t forget, I’m working a double, so I’ll be late.

Love you,

Mom

I felt bad for waking up my mom last night. It was hard for her. My dad died when I was eight, and she worked hard to keep a roof over our heads. She had a good job as a nurse at the local clinic, but she took every extra shift she could get her hands on to be sure that I would never go without. She would have been tired this morning, and now, she was working late. I tried not to focus on it, but it was hard not to think of her suffering. I worried about her, but she insisted she was fine. She was my rock, though I would never let her know. She would never let me see her in pain, even though I knew she was sometimes. It had been eight years, but she still hadn’t moved on. Dad was her everything. Their love was pure and true. I could only hope to find half of what they had someday. I could still remember the way they would look at each other when they thought no one else could see. A part of her died with him, and I resented them both a bit for that. She and I were never quite the same without him.

My mother had never worked. She was young when she met my dad at college. After graduation, he got a decent job, and they were married right away. I came along less than a year later, and they agreed she would stay home to raise me. I had been ill as a child, and I needed someone who could take me to specialists as needed. Even after I had long outgrown the complications of my early years, my parents decided it was best for her to continue the same path in life. Unfortunately, it became a problem when my father could no longer provide for us.

Soon after his death, my mother knew she would need to find a way to keep us safe. She took what little money they had saved and enrolled at the local university. A few years later, she graduated from the nursing program. She worked like a dog to gain the respect of others in her field.

I crumpled her note and tossed it in the trash, grabbed an apple, and headed out the door. For the past few weeks, I had so much time on my hands in the mornings that I was picture perfect by the time I was ready to leave for school each day. This morning was different. I had quickly tossed my auburn locks back in a low ponytail and thrown on an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. There was no time for makeup, curling irons, or primping. I was back to my old, average self, and I was running late. Addie was waiting in the driveway as I strolled down the walk. Her fingers were thrumming the top of the steering wheel, showing her displeasure at having to wait for me. She’d become used to having me run out the door the minute I saw her pearly, alabaster mini cooper peel around the corner of our street.

“
Wow,” she said with a condescending tone. “You look great. Did you have a makeover last night?”

“
Ha. Ha,” I said with a hint of sarcasm in my voice. “I just got a good sleep, that’s all.”

She looked puzzled. I could understand why. It was no secret I hadn’t been sleeping well. In our bedroom community, it didn’t take long for news to spread. Pretty much everyone knew I had been having a difficult time lately. Addie, being my best friend, had the inside scoop on the whole story. She looked at me expectantly, waiting to hear the rest.

“
I don’t know what happened. I had the usual dream. When I woke up in the wee hours, I went to get a drink and broke a glass. Then, I fell asleep,” I explained quickly. “Into a deep sleep.”

“
What’s that,” she asked, pointing at the gash on my finger.

“
Oh. I’d forgotten about that,” I said, holding my finger up in front of my nose to examine more closely. “It’s nothing.”

Now that I had remembered, I could feel the painful sting. The wound was still open, and another drop of blood oozed free. Again, I thought I heard a low gasp in the distance, but Addie was silently focused on the road as she backed out of my driveway.

“
Did you say something?”

She just shook her head as she turned up the radio and sped down the street.

“
Thanks to you, sleepy head, we’re going to be late,” she said before breaking into song.

Chapter 2 -
Him

I was feeling great when we arrived at our first class. It was a few weeks before the end of the first semester, and the weather was just starting to turn cold. If I could keep up my new sleep pattern long enough to ace my next few assignments, I would be back on track to finish senior year with top honors and a slew of premiere universities vying for my attention. I crossed my fingers and said a silent prayer.