Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(158)

"Emma, we should go," Evan said above me. My head felt heavy as I nodded it. "Want to come with us?" He was talking to Sara, but I just kept nodding.

"Emma?" Sara called to me, taking my hand. I could still hear her sniffling. "She's going to be okay. I mean, she has to be."

Who? I wanted to ask, not following along. Then everything rushed in on me all at once, I was punched in the stomach with the flood of information, my brain translating it in an instant.

"No," I said strongly, drawing Evan and Sara's attention with a start. "No. I don't want to go to the hospital."

"What?" Sara questioned in confusion. "Your mother just overdosed..."

"I know," I interrupted. "I don't want to see her."

"Don't you want to know if she's okay?" Evan asked, his voice careful.

"No," I returned adamantly. "I don't want to see her. She did this. She did this because of me, to hurt me. I won't let her. I won't let her."

"Emma, what are you talking about?" Sara demanded fervently.

Evan crouched in front of me and met my eyes. "Are you sure?" I nodded. He studied me intently for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. We don't have to go."

"Evan, what the hell are you talking about? What if she―"

"Sara," he cut her off before she could finish. "You weren't here earlier. It's probably not a good idea to go to the hospital. We should get you home anyway. It's been a crazy night for you too." 

Sara shook her head, aghast. "I don't understand."

"I'll explain later," Evan told her. "Emma, let's go."

I was still a bit dazed. I took his hand and allowed him to guide me. He and Sara shut off the lights along the way, and he found the key on my keychain to lock the door. We continued to the car, and Sara crawled into the back while I sat in the passenger seat. We drove to Sara's in silence, or maybe I just couldn't hear them talking.

Anna was a wreck when we arrived. She'd been contacted by the police, since they knew Sara's father. She fretted over us when we entered, hugging each of us, running her hand over our tear stained cheeks to examine us more closely. Evan did most of the explaining since he was the only one composed enough to make sense.

My entire body ached and my ribs burned with pain. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to listen. I just wanted to shut it all out and crawl under the blankets. Eventually, once Anna and Carl were satisfied with what they were told, we were released upstairs.

Evan stayed with me as long as he was allowed, laying quietly in front of me on the bed, watching me drift off. Sara ended up crawling in bed with me sometime in the night, probably unable to sleep. I wasn't so certain I slept much either. My eyes searched in the dark―blinking in and out of consciousness.

"I told her to do it," I whispered to Sara when her eyes opened across from me, the dawn softly glowing above us.

She blinked wider, trying to understand.

"I told her I didn't care if she took the entire bottle. And she did."

"Emma," Sara breathed in shock, finally understanding what I meant. "You didn't make her do it."

"But I don't know if I would've stopped her either," I confessed in a flat tone.

"Don't say that. You would have."

"I hate her, Sara," I rasped, my eyes blurring with tears. "I hate her so much." My voice broke, and I swallowed against the truth. Tears ran over my nose and onto the pillow. "I didn't want to see her, because... because I don't care if she's dead."

"Oh Emma," she cried, her blue eyes seeping in pain. "I don't believe that. You're angry. But I don't believe you'd want her dead."

I didn't say anything more. We lay silently, absorbing the torment in the other's eyes, eventually falling back into a restless sleep.

I felt responsible for what Sara had endured because of Rachel's selfishness. But I didn't feel remorse for what I'd told her. I really didn't care if my mother lived or died.

~~~~~

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Sara asked again with the bag in her hand.

I looked at Sara and her mother from my kneeling position on the kitchen floor, scooping up the congealed tomato and placing it on the cutting board on the table. "I'm sure. I'll finish picking up. I still need to throw out the food in the fridge."

"We'll see you back at the house after we go to the hospital," Anna told me with the last box from my bedroom in her arms.

"I won't be much longer."

After I picked up the salad ingredients Rachel had thrown all over the kitchen, I mindlessly washed the dishes and emptied the refrigerator.

I didn't look around when I left, just shut the door behind me and locked it. I tossed the trash bags in the cans on the side of the house and dragged them to the curb.