breathe

chapter 1 | benjamin

Chapter One

Benjamin

The intensity of Charlotte's family's suffering gripped me as I entered her room. While there, the doctor had pulled them into the hallway to deliver the devastating news – Vince had not survived.

The blow fell heavy on those left behind. Though only two weeks had passed, Charlotte's response to her father's death replayed endlessly in my mind.

"No," she had whispered, her voice trembling as she spoke. "No, he can't be... No. No." She repeated the word 'no' over and over again, unable to accept the horrible reality.

"Charlotte," Anna had said gently as tears stained her own face. "He's gone." Tears cascaded hot and fast down Charlotte's flushed cheeks. Her whole frame shuddered with raw anguish.

"What are you doing Charlotte?" Lizzie asked, her face a mixture of worry for her sister and pain for the loss of her father. Her lip trembled as tears streamed down her face, and she moved to comfort her with her fingers lightly touching Charlotte's arm.

"I'm gonna find him," Charlotte cried hurriedly. "I need to find him." She grabbed the drainage bottle for her chest tube in her left hand, the unbroken one, and bolted from the room.

"Char, wait!" I called, chasing after her. A doctor called urgently as she ran, but no one dared interfere with her frantic need.

"Dad?" Her agonized cry echoed down sterile halls. "Dad, where are you?" Skidding to a halt, she grasped a passing nurse.

"Where's my dad?" she had demanded, her voice was filled with urgency. "Please, where is he?" Her wild gaze searched the nurse's face desperately, all hope shattering at finding only pity.

She collapsed to the floor, wrenching sobs racking her small body. I knelt beside her, gently drawing her shuddering form into my arms and chest. Tears spilled silently from my own eyes as I cradled and rocked her limp, trembling frame.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before entering Charlotte's hospital room once more. Two weeks had passed since losing her father, yet her state showed little signs of improvement.

Where once she had been full of life and laughter, now Charlotte lay mute and unmoving. Her eyes, red-rimmed from tears unshed, stared blankly at the wall. She had wasted away, refusing both nourishment and rest. Her physical wounds healed at a sluggish pace as a result.

Sitting gently beside her, I took Charlotte's thin hand in mine. "Please, love, eat something," I pleaded. My words were soft but held an undercurrent of worry. When she didn't respond, I spoke of happier times, hoping to lift her from the depths of sorry that had consumed her.

"I'm here for you always, Charlotte. Your pain is my own." Stoking her hair softly, I leaned in to press a kiss to her pale forehead. But still her eyes remained hollow pools of anguish. It was as if her grief had torn her soul from its sheltering place, leaving only an empty shell.

My chest tightened at seeing her so lost, yet I was determined not to let her fade away. There had to be some way to reach her, some way to ease her suffering. I could only pray that her sorrow would not destroy her completely before hope could be found.

I helped her into the wheelchair and pushed her to the exit. Anna was just a few paces in front of us with Charlotte's personal things and medications. Charlotte's hands remained folded in her lap as we braced the chilly January wind.

Ollie had pulled up Anna's minivan to the front to make it easier for Charlotte. But in taking her arm, I froze at the sight of the terror clawing at her face, the panic now swimming in her deadened stare. She gripped me tightly, as if something might pull her under.