Page 202 of Breathe Like Hell

Beyond the shoreline, the ocean stretched into a sheet of dull steel, restless enough to remind me it was alive, calm enough to hide what it was capable of swallowing. Anything, everything. The pines behind me swayed with a sound that was almost like whispered conversation, sounds I’d never be able to untangle. Needles drifted loose every so often, carried across the frosted ground before disappearing over the edge. I found myself watching them longer than I should have, envious of how easily they surrendered themselves to the wind.

I’ll never escape this forest.

I’ll never escape my own labyrinth.

The wind twisted the smell of salt and pine together, stripping the warmth from my face, the cold becoming impossible to separate from the ache in my chest. Blood and ichor were dried on my arms, the gashes almost entirely healed, skin stitching itself back together invisibly. In another life, I might’ve done it over and over, slicing myself open until my head was on straight and I held the reins again, but in this life, I knew I was too far gone.

I’d left Dakota when she was in the middle of something emotionally and physically devastating. Something she’d never been through before. She was probably scared.

But if I’d stayed, she’d see it on my face. So would Mason.

They’d both know.

They’d realize I’d wanted it, and I couldn’t survive that realization.

They probably knew anyway.

But it felt so much more real like this—once it was gone.

Below, the waves reached endlessly for the cliffs, only to fall back into themselves again in a foamy wash, bubbles rushing over darkness and roughness. There was something cruelly familiar about the constant rhythm of it. It was never ending.

Immortal.

It overwhelmed me sometimes, thinking about the unreachable end.

Forever is a long time.

I’m not sure I’m capable of that.

I turned my gaze outward again, searching the horizon for something I’d never find. Sea and clouds met in a pale, colorless blur, dissolving into each other. I was a fucking coward. That’d never been a question in my mind; I just hated seeing it displayed so plainly. What could I fall back on once my strength faded?

How could I ever be around her without the control I so desperately needed?

I have to try.

I gave myself another few hours of sitting there, letting my heart sink like a stone, further and further into my stomach, dropping into the darkness of lost hope. Then I stood up away from the edge, turning into the forest and making my way through those layered shadows. My truck remained where I’d parked it, and I drove back to my house in silence.

Mason’s car was still parked out front, which meant Dakota was still here.

The confirmation was soothing to me. My house could still be a safe place for her, even if I was failing. I entered through the garage quietly, trying to listen for any noise coming from upstairs. Dakota and Mason were conversing about something in my bathroom, and I heard her sniffling.

I stood in the kitchen, staring at my useless hands, trying to work up some courage or something.

The rush of water echoed through the pipes as the upstairs toilet flushed.

My stomach lurched like I’d been punched.

It wasn’t like I’d believed there would be some miracle waiting for me when I came home. But the sound carried a kind of finality I hadn’t even considered.

A sharp ache climbed into my throat.

I left her.

While Dakota had endured this, I’d been sitting on a cliff convincing myself solitude was easier than visible grief. Now there wasn’t even the possibility of going back. No goodbye.

I pressed a hand against the kitchen counter, my fingers tightening around the edge until they hurt.

I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to scream or be sick.