breathe

chapter 2 | charlotte

Chapter Two

Charlotte

I opened my mouth but no words ever came, as if an invisible hand was clenched tight around my throat. Every syllable threatened to tear open barely-scabbed wounds, letting the agony pour out once more. His absence echoed through the hollow cavern of my chest with each labored breath, a grim reminder that it was my doing that had sent him away.

My fault, all my fault. I recalled that fateful night in vivid snapshots – his eyes flickering from the road to meet my gaze as I begged him to look, just for a moment. The blaring horn as a truck collided into ours. Waking to a world without his smile. The guilt clawed mercilessly at my insides, shredding what little was left of my tattered heart.

Ben's presence was a double-edged blade, his kindness and care slicing through the darkness like a ray of light. Yet his goodness only served to highlight my own shadows, my selfish actions that had cost Dad his life while sparing my worthless one. When Ben's eyes met mine, I found myself paralyzed, unable to break the suffocating silence that gripped me tighter than any vice.

Was this punishment to fit the crime? An eternity trapped within my own head, drowning in memories and what-ifs until the weight of it crushed me entirely? I had to break free, had to find a way to start healing or the anguish would surely swallow me whole. But how does one begin to speak again when even breathing is an agony?

I stared at Ben as he slept, drinking in the contours of his face I knew better than my own. Each freckle and crease had its own memory – our first kiss in his lake house, long talks in the car as rain pattered on the windshield. My eyes lingered on his lips, where I used to find comfort in his smile.

But that comfort was stolen now, along with the future I'd dared to dream when his hand held mine. Dread curled heavy in my gut as I recalled Mom's words – we had to bury Dad tomorrow. Or rather today, as night bled into the unforgiving dawn. I didn't want their pity, their knowing whispers that it was my fault. It was my fault.

The thought of the car turned my blood to ice. My heart thudded against my ribcage like a trapped bird as memories assaulted – Dad's eyes leaving, the blaring horn. Even lying next to Ben, my breathing grew shallow. What if I couldn't make it through the ceremony without shattering?

I traced the new lines etched deep into Ben's face, deeper than his years. He'd stayed by my bedside in the hospital without rest, sacrificing his own health for mine. Guilt and grief consumed me that I'd also caused him this pain. As I cried silently, all I knew was that I couldn't lose Ben too. Not when he was the only tether left in my shattered world.

I saw the exhaustion etched into his features echoed the leaden weight in my bones. Even in sleep, I saw how deeply my grief carved itself upon him.

As if sensing my gaze, Ben stirred and slipped his arm around my waist. "I'm here," he murmured, pulling me close. I wanted to sink into the comfort of his arms, but still felt so unworthy. What right did I have to cause him further strain?

Ben whispered again, his breath warm against my hair, "I wish I could take away your pain." If only it were that simple. But the memories kept replaying, an endless torment, and the guilt only intensified with each replay. It was a punishment I deserved for what I'd done.

His features slowly relaxed as sleep claimed him once more. I watched the lines of strain smooth from his face, hoping rest might lift some of the burden he'd chosen to bear alongside me. But seeing him so exhausted only fed the lead weights of guilt within me.

Alone with my tortured thoughts, I stared into the shadows. If only I could undo it, I thought desperately. If only I could go back in time. Ben's steady breathing was my lone comfort in the dark.