Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

4 2 ~ A n n a

                 

Flashback ~ December 30, 2010

I wake up to the sound of voices. It's my parents, discussing something in urgent whispers.

I only hear snippets of their conversation.

"The police--"

"The blood--"

"For hours--"

A few flashes of stumbling in the dark come back to me. After going out to see Caesar's puppet, I hadn't made it back to my room. I had eaten something... I don't remember what. After everything that had happened, my stomach was folding in on itself out of hunger.

Then I must have just fallen asleep on the couch. I vaguely remember sitting down on the couch where just days before, Toby had asked for apple juice. I dug out the baseball bat from the closet and pulled a blanket over myself while I kept watch.

So much for keeping watch. Anyone could have come through the door and I was fast asleep. An intruder could have knocked me over the head with my own baseball bat, how pathetic is that?

"She had blood all over her, Mark," I heard my mom say quietly. I stiffened but didn't open my eyes. If I did, then I would have to face them. I would have to talk about it, explain.

"We just have to wait for her to wake up. She can tell us what happened, and then we can get the police involved. If anyone hurt her, we'll make them pay for it."

"But they called," Mom whispered. "They want her to come in for questioning. Something must have happened, right?"

The police. The people who will be showing up at our house any minute with a tape of me stealing money from a man who is dead. The only way this could get worse would be if I had a huge sign pointing at me, saying "Criminal! Please arrest!"

I didn't mean to sigh, but I did. I heard the conversation next to me stop abruptly and even with my eyes closed, I knew there would be sad eyes flicking towards me. I roll over and keep my eyes shut, my breaths even. I don't want them to know I'm awake.

"Annabella?" I hear my mom whisper as she bends down next to the couch. She takes my hand and I'm surprised at how cold I was, the warmth of her fingers showing me so.

I can't keep them waiting. I shouldn't. It's cruel and they've been through enough.

I crack my eyes open, just the slightest bit and see her bright green ones staring back at me. "Mom?"

"Hi sweetie, how do you feel? Does your head hurt?" She turns toward my dad. "Mark, can you get something from the freezer for her head?"

I see my dad's feet disappear from the floor as he walks to the kitchen. I don't like this attention. It's just making my stomach twist around, like that time I had to tell them that I broke a China plate when I was seven. I was so scared of getting in trouble that I had just burst into tears and started apologizing like crazy.

"No, my head is fine. I'm good," I say and start to sit up, squinting around the room for Toby. He's sitting on the other side of the couch, playing with something I can't quite make out. I smile at him.

My mom sits back and lets go of my hand as I tie my hair back into a bun. The look on her face is enough to make me want to cry. "What happened, Anna? We thought you were going out with friends. Do you know how worried we were? You could have been killed out there!"

She took a deep breath and I pulled the blanket closer around me, not meeting her eyes.

"Anna," Toby mumbled, scooting across the couch to sit close to me. I pull the blanket over him too and he snuggles into my shoulder.

"Hey buddy," I lose my smile and look back up at Mom. "I'm sorry. It's just..."

What am I supposed to say? I can't tell her about Caesar. She will want to get the police involved. But they are going to do that anyway, so I should tell them the truth.

But I can't. I just can't do it. It's not something that I think I could actually say out loud.

"Here," my dad says as he walks back in the room. He hands me a pack of frozen peas, but I drop them on the couch beside me, the cold burning my fingers.

Toby grabs for the pack but mom gets to it first. She puts it up against my forehead and I take it from her, holding it there.

"Anna, you have to tell us what happened. We thought you just went out with friends, but you didn't come back," my dad says, sitting down on the coffee table, a tremor lining his voice. My mom joins him after a moment, looking uncertainly at my head. "If someone did this to you, we can get the police involved."

"You can't go to the cops," I say instinctively, catching myself just after the words left my lips.

They both give me worried looks. Like what I'm saying is just the ramblings of a confused child.

"Why not?" Mom asks, sitting forward with her elbows on her knees.

I should tell them. I really should. Not about Caesar, or his games, but about the robbery. If they are going to talk to the police, I'm going to have to tell the truth.

To them, at least.

"I... Um..." I let the pack of peas fall to the couch beside me again, a wave of nausea rolling over me. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them a moment later, breathing deeply.

My dad glances at Mom, then back at me. He carefully pulls the baseball bat from my hands and sets it on the ground. "Honey, if someone is threatening you if you're too scared to tell us--"

I cut him off. "No, that's not it at all." I pause. "I fell on the ice. Head first. I just slipped."

It's not technically a lie. It is my own fault that my head won't stop pounding, that there is a huge gash above my eyebrow.

My mom pulls her lips together in a tight line, and I know she's trying to see if I'm telling the truth. "The medic said you had a mild concussion. He said you were okay to stay at home, though. It happened from falling into the ice?"

I have a concussion? Really?

Well, that explains the headache... and the nausea.

I nod, feeling as if I'd rather disappear under the blanket than be talking about this.

Dad reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. I freeze, take in a quick breath, but let it out slowly.

His voice is strained, more tense than usual. "Do you know where this money came from?"

Something hard and solid turns over in my stomach.

I think they call it guilt.

I can feel the tears tugging at my eyes. It takes me a second to find the words. "Please don't be mad."

Mom smiles sadly. "Sweetie, you can tell us anything. You're not in trouble, but we just need to know what happened."

I take a shaky breath and force myself to look up at them again. Then the words came, ones that cut through the air like a sword, and my parents' faces go from worried to panicked.

"There was a robbery."