Breathe

Chapter 40

Cian

Now more than ever, I believed this: There were only two types of people in the world. There were the ones that took, and the ones that were taken from. God knew who decided who's who. Maybe it was a game of chance, or maybe it was one of pure logic, like chess. Maybe it wasn't even a game at all. Maybe it was just a birthright. As soon as you opened your squinty eyes and clawed at the light with your chubby fingers and made your first squeal, you were either one or the other.

Maybe no one knew. Maybe no one...would ever know.

It didn't matter how, in the end. What mattered was who I was—who I had known I was ever since I crashed that damn boat. I always lost. I lost my brother. I lost what made me human. I lost my father. I lost my best friend. And that one precious thing, that one precious person that life was courteous enough to hand to me—when the storybook closed, I lost her, too.

It had been a week since Lucie had been shot.

And you know, maybe she wasn't honestly, honestly gone. I remembered shoving through, forcing the doctor to tell me what he'd told her parents. Vinny had been at my side, his eyes as tearful as my own, his heart just as broken, as we'd been told how lucky she was.

She's a miracle case, the doctor had said. A gunshot wound to the head, yet she's holding on. She's lucky. You're all lucky.

I wanted to believe she was lucky. But what was living, really, if you weren't awake to experience any of it? She was stuck in a medically-induced coma, the only way they could save her. And I wanted to believe that's what they'd done—saved her. I just didn't know anymore.

"Cian."

My own name woke me up.

I stood in Lucie's bedroom, surrounded by her colorful lavender walls, clean of any posters or calendars. Her desk was neat yet messy at the same time, things tossed around in a way that almost seemed artful—only something my Lulu could pull off. Her bed, covered in a floral comforter that matched perfectly with her color scheme, was made. It was always made.

Vinny, having just said my name, sat at the windowsill. I sighed, watching him. I'd come in through that window once, the night before my lips had first touched hers. The night I'd learned how much she despised garlic sauce.

I said, "Vince, don't look at me like that."

The frown I'd just been admonishing him for—that frown people always gave you when they thought they'd figured you out enough to be sympathetic—only deepened. "I just think...maybe you should be a little bit more hopeful. I mean, she's holding on, Cian. She's not dead."

"Might as well be."

"C.J.—"

"I felt it," I spat back, raking hair back out of my eyes. I slumped against the wall, shaking my head. "Vinny, when Nick shot her, my heart—it stopped. She might as well be gone."

Vinny shook his head. "You haven't even been in to see her."

"That's because I can't," I hissed. "Did you forget their stupid 'family only' policy? I can't see her. Her mom can, her dad can, all her cousins who flew in from Arizona can, but I can't. You can't. We just can't."

"Cian, do you think this is how she would want you to act?" Vinny asked. I rolled my eyes, not having time for his philosophical questions. He didn't love her like I did. He didn't understand. When Lucie had fallen to the ground, when I pulled her up against my chest, begged for her to open her eyes, I'd lost a part of myself. It was a part of myself I didn't know if I could ever get back. "Do you think she'd want you to be all brooding, mourning her like she's in the grave? She's not. You and I know her. She'll come back to us."

"Look, Vinny," I began. Sinking to a seat on the floor, I crossed my legs, my head leaned back against the wall. "When she was in the car accident with Dempsey, her body was already on the border enough. Now that this has happened—she's even deeper into the other side. It's just one, tiny, little tether anchoring her to this world now."

Vinny exhaled, rubbing his temples. "And she has to choose now. Between our world and the dead one—between whether that tether snaps or not. That's what you're saying?"

I nodded. "I want to believe she'll come back to us, but, you know, say she does. Will she even be the same person? Vinny, what if she doesn't even know who we are? I wouldn't—I wouldn't be able to live with that."

Vinny hopped off the sill, coming to sit in front of me. As always, his purity astonished me. How, in the face of all this, could he still have so much peace in his eyes, could he keep his heart so calm? He hadn't gotten anymore closure than me. Sure, maybe Nick—the bastard that had done this to her—was imprisoned by the Order. The demon gate was closed, sure, San Francisco saved to see another day. What did all that mean if Lucie wasn't here, though?

Nothing. None of it meant a thing.

Vinny motioned to my right eye, which had been covered in a medical eyepatch for six days now. "Well, at least you might get your vision back, right?"

I scowled. "Keyword: might."

"It can't be that bad."

"I've lost a ton of my balance. My depth perception. It's one eye, but it sure means a heck of a lot."

Vinny offered a smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you look rather badass with an eyepatch. Like a...an angelic pirate."

"Please shut up."

"I'm just trying to cheer you up a little," said Vinny innocently.

"Please stop trying."

My little brother rolled his eyes. "God, it's like my death all over again. What it's going to take, huh? To get you back?"

He blinked at me, and I blinked at him, as we both knew the answer to that question. It was a waste of his time for even asking it.

A knock on the shut bedroom door startled the two of us. Figuring it was just Lucie's mom, who was nice enough to let the both of us in here despite her own grief, I called for her to come in. So when Caprice rounded the corner, I was admittedly stunned.

For Caprice, she was dressed rather modestly, in a pair of jeans and a tank top that actually didn't cling to every inch of her skin. She gave a meek smile, brushing a short strand of dark hair behind her pierced ear. "Nice eyepatch," she said, then her eyes flitted to Vinny, if only for a moment. "Hey, Lazarus."

"Hi," he responded.

"Caprice," I said, looking away. I knew she'd heard about Lucie, but couldn't care less if she had any condolences to offer, or whatever other piteous attempt at empathy she was going to give. "If you're here about Lucie, then you can just go—"

"Actually, I need to talk about you," she said, then glanced out towards the hall, and back at me again. Clearing her throat, she added, "With you. Alone."

I looked to Vinny, expecting him to protest, but he just shrugged. To Caprice, he said, "He's all yours."

I followed Caprice out into the hallway, quite reluctantly. These days, Vinny was the only person I tolerated, and even he seemed to be getting sick of me.

Caprice's eyes were dark and watchful in the lightless hallway, her lips in a concerned frown. There it was again. The same look Vinny had given me, and just as irksome. "Cian...any reason you're wearing long sleeves on a ninety-degree day?"

I chuckled. "That's what your urgent topic is? You've gone mad, woman—"

"Cian," her voice hardened, lava turning to igneous stone. "Look, you've been worried so much about what's going on with Lucie, but..."

She took my wrist in her hand before I could stop her, tugging the sleeve down to my elbow. Both of us paled at the sight, though I'd been noticing it since three days ago. The veins in my arm had turned from a healthy, fleshy color to midnight black, and where Caprice touched one, I winced.

Caprice looked up at me. "What's wrong with you, little one?"