Deep Breaths (Prologue)

The night is empty, almost absent of sound beyond her own anxious breaths. Crystalized teeth hide under blankets of white, concealed as plush, damp clouds of moist earth. Faint light casts a shadow of moonlit lace upon the surface, distorted by thick trunks and gnarled, twisted branches. Winter had come with a vengeance, as it did every year in State College, PA. 

Darkness creeps deeper into her surroundings as she inches further from campus, regretting her fruitless party search as each moment ticks by. She exhales, timid pressure on the pedal as she eases forward in her old blue 1998 Honda Accord. Heavy wheels crunch pillows of ice, muffled by the low-humming engine. The sky dumps snow like powdered sugar as Jonah squints through her thick, purple frames, suddenly embarrassed by her choice to drive.  

Come on, Jo. Cold flakes splatter against the frosted glass of her windshield, rubber blades racing to chase them away. She nears a stop sign. You know your driving-for-a-month ass should’ve stayed home. 

The 17 year old gasps, alarmed as her lenses begin to fog. “Shit!” Jonah clutches the steering wheel, troubled by the loose feel through the padding of her plush, cream mittens. She swerves a little in her attempt to pull over, panicking for half an instant more. The tires slip against the road as she attempts to break, passing the stop sign to instead leave her car blocking the crosswalk.

Jonah switches from ‘drive’ to ‘park,’ calming her nerves. Driving Old Betty may not have been such a good idea... “Old Betty” used to be her grandmother’s car; definitely not exactly equipped to manage a snowstorm. 

Killing the engine, Jo considers her options before moving onward, tossing the keys onto the black Blume parka balled up on the passenger seat.  She peels off her mittens, sighing into the palms of her brown, cold hands. Nimble fingers dig into the armrest, searching for a microfiber cloth. This is so stupid. Stiff digits rub the fabric against the lenses of her plastic Ray Bans, anxious to have them clear to properly see.  This surprise visit to my bros was a lame ass idea. Jonah looks around the dark, lonely streets. They’re gonna be so mad at me for driving in this dangerous mess. 

For a moment, Jonah closes her eyes with an abashed breath. Plus... I think I may be lost... She tugs the neck of her heavy, oversized cable-knit sweater, plum colored to match her frames. She licks her lips nervously, biting the inside of her right cheek.  Her nostrils flare as she breathes deeply, willing her emotions to curb away from fear. 

I know this area though, right?  Hemlock arms reach for her car, sheltering it from most of the wintery onslaught. The windshield stays relatively clear as she dons her glasses, peering into the emptiness of the night. Large, dark brown eyes pace back and forth, pretending to recognize her location. I visited my brothers here before, I know how to get there...  

Muffled shouts cut through the silence around her, filtering into her car. Jonah twists in the seat, craning her neck toward the direction of the noise. A shadow emerges from the horizon behind her, dashing into focus. It soon takes the form of two figures, barreling down the road as inflatable men with flailing, erratic limbs.  

Racing in the street? Really? Jonah sighs at their stupidity, expecting an imminent faceplant. On the ice even. She shakes her head, feeling bad for the bruises they were about to earn. Her nose scrunches as the shorter figure slips a bit, losing momentum. His opponent, dressed in a yellow, reflective jacket shouts in alarm, grabbing him about the arms to help him to his feet. At least the one was nice enough to help ‘clumsy’ even though they’re racing. 

Jonah raises in her seat, trying to get a better angle of the scene. The clumsy one regains his footing, shoving the other away from him. What an ass! Jo squints, confused as the klutz shoves the other again, pushing and pointing in a way to suggest where to run. What in the world? The slightly taller guy stomps a foot, defiant. The shorter one cups his shoulders as if to plead, grabs his face with both hands just before they both look sharply behind them.

Suddenly the two are full on sprinting. 

The shorter one points wildly to the left yet again, just as a crowd of several hulking figures appear from thin air. Oh! Jonah’s mouth opens in surprise. Those muffled shouts became malicious as the mob closes in on the two runners. That definitely is not a race...  The taller inflatable man seems to finally conceded, darting to the left down a side street. Part of the pursuers follow, the others chasing the heels of “clumsy,” who runs to the right.  

Oh no. Both groups vanish from the main street Jonah is parked on as they follow their prey. Oh hells no. She is once again alone, completely unnerved by the potential violence about her. I gotta get the fuck out of here. Jo lunges forward in her seat, desperate for a clue to her location. 

A flash of hope swells within her as she spots a street sign with a familiar name.  Yes!  She looks around, scared of what may be happening just a block over. I think from here I’m supposed to turn... She checks her mirrors quickly, struggles for the key as her fingers shake in the search. Who tosses their keys away while they're still driving, dummy? Jonah claws at the passenger seat, fumbling for keys tangled in her coat, too afraid to turn on the mirror light for help. Blessedly, fingers brush against metal. Jonah quickly finds the right key and places it to fit the ignition.

Out of nowhere, a jarring force slams into the side of her car. 

Jonah shrieks, drops her keys and method of escape as she shrinks down in her seat. Almond shaped eyes wildly scan the space about her, painfully wide as she looks toward the side of impact, snapping her head towards the passenger door. She holds her breath, too scared to think, move or breathe. Did something just...? Faintly, there’s a sound like a wounded animal. She screams again for good measure.

People seem to be fighting, God knows what just hit her car, it sounds hurt, and she's lost. A teenage girl from out of town, randomly stranded somewhere in the pitch-black boonies? She pats her chest, her pockets, searching for her phone. Fuck no, I’m not about to wait around to go missing. Refusing to become a victim of violence, Jonah calls the police. The operator asks for her name, which she gives, along with the names of the intersection street signs. Jo continues to explain the situation with relative clarity, right up to the point where she admits that whatever hit her car might have moaned in distress.

“Jonah, help is on the way. So, there was an accident? Are you injured? Have you injured a pedestrian with your vehicle?”

“No! No!” A pause. “…I don’t know man I wasn’t driving, I'm not drunk I’m just parked here! It ran into me, it’s not my fault I just want to see my brothers!” she whines a frustrated sob. A distorted rumble flows into the car. “It sounds like a dying moose or something.”

“Jonah, are you able to see what hit your vehicle?”

“I’m not getting out! Those guys were about to fight out here, they could hurt me, I’m scared.”

“It’s alright Jonah, you may remain in your vehicle. Are you able to see outside of the window? Is what hit your car still there?” 

Jonah fills her lungs as she grabs a flashlight from her glove compartment, silently thanking her dad for forcing her to take it. She climbs into the passenger seat, savoring her hiding spot a few moments more. The cops are coming right? She frowns down at her hand in the darkness, pressure building behind the eyes. It shouldn’t matter if they can see me with this light flashing, right? She exhales, turning it on.  

As slow as a glacier, Jonah peeks out of the window, shining the light towards the ground beside her car. She presses her face against the glass to get a better view... of scarlet speckled snow and a motionless heap of a body. 

“Oh my gosh!” Jonah flings open the door, safety be damned. 

“Jonah! Please stay in your vehi-”

“I need an ambulance!” Jo screams into the phone, awkwardly stumbling out of the car. She hits the speaker button on her old flip phone as she tosses it on the seat. “This guy’s all bloody and messed up.” 

Jonah blanches a moment later, noticing he’s without a coat, laying in frozen snow in a soggy green sleeveless tank top and khakis. “Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh, please don’t be dead.” She kneels, welcoming muck to soak through her slim-fitted black jeans. From the lack of highlighter jacket, this one appeared to be the slightly shorter inflatable man. It’s Clumsy!

“Uhhh,” Jo bites her lip as she spreads her hands shakily. They hover an inch above his pale limbs, unsure of where to begin to help. She shivers, anxious as she puts two fingers on the side of his neck, miming TV medical dramas. Watching Grey’s Anatomy doesn’t mean you know how to find a pulse, crazy. She groans. Try something else! Lifting her eyes to his, she can see they are closed, accompanied by a welt around the left socket. Red flowed from his nostrils, lips parted and swollen with a magenta hue.

“Jonah,” the operator continues, “is he conscious? Is he breathing?” 

Jo groans louder at the question, throat raw with panic as she glances up at his eyes again. Still closed. She leans towards him. “Hey!” Jonah frowns at the deep blush of his cheeks, unsure if it’s from being 10 below freezing out or the exertion of his run. “Hey,” she taps his face with her fingertips. “Can you hear me?” 

He doesn't stir. Definitely out cold. “He’s unconscious and...”  She leans closer for a look at his mouth, desperate for a sign of breath. She squints, but no puffs of air appear before the glow of her flashlight. No sign of life.

In an instant, her body is as cold as the ice beneath her. 

“He’s not breathing...” Jonah whispers, her own breaths now short and frantic, gaze fixated on his lips that have deepened in color. Are they turning blue? She chokes on a sob. He’s gonna die. Jonah covers her mouth, eyes suddenly flooded with tears. Fuck he’s gonna die! An audible weep escapes her, helpless. I wish I knew CPR.. I could at least do that, do something ...

“Jonah?”

Wait. She blinks, smacks herself in the forehead. 

“I know mouth-to-mouth!” she blurts aloud, excited and terrified. In the midst of her emotional storm, she completely forgot she’d just learned cardiopulmonary resuscitation over the summer.  

Jonah wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater, closing her eyes to find a crumb of resolve. Pressing the top of his forehead, she lifts his chin gently, tilts back his head and looks into his mouth to inspect for an obstruction. Airway. Frosted air fills her lungs, exhales through trembling lips. She pinches his nostrils closed, flinching at the gush of blood that escapes. 

Ew, it’s all over his mouth! She gags a little. What if he’s got HIV/AIDS? What if he’s got herpes or something? A moment passes. But what if he fucking dies! She looks away, torn. 

Deeply, she inhales again, wipes at his lips a bit with her other sleeve. Breathing. Her mouth meets his in a courageous moment, filling his lungs from her own. Her fingers lace and overlap on his chest. Compression. With the heel of her hands, she presses rhythmically just below his breastbone, counting aloud.  “One, two, three, four...” The taste of him is overwhelming, an unfortunate blend of blood and cheap beer. “Eleven, twelve, thirteen...” She spits, swallowing against the urge to vomit, beginning to sweat from her efforts. 

Another deep breath. Please wake up. She fills his lungs. I’m so sorry I hesitated, please wake up! More compressions. “Come on, fuck!” Her arms begin to ache. “Wake up!” she shouts with frustrated guilt. “God...please...” Tears drip onto the backs of her hands. “I don’t care if I get sick, just please, wake u-”

“Argh!” Inflatable man convulses, shuttering with a choked gasp. Jonah falters, falls right on her ass in stunned silence. Suddenly she’s exhausted, weak as she moves so that her face is above his. She cups his flushed cheeks, his face in her hands, flooded with emotion. 

“Can you hear me?” She grabs her discarded flashlight from the snow, shaking as she shines it on his face. “Hey, can you hear me?” His eyes blink open, dazed and unfocused. They dart around, frightened as he coughs.  

“Shhh it’s okay,” Jonah whispers softly, brushing the backs of her fingers along his strong jaw. “It’s okay, those guys are gone.” He looks at her then, as though just registering her presence. “Are you alright? What’s your name?”  Kaleidoscope eyes bore into hers, green with flecks of gold and burnt sienna, under dark, thick brows.

Jonah takes a moment to peruse his appearance, noticing obvious signs of a physical altercation. His left eye is swollen, along with a busted bottom lip. His left cheek is a deeper shade of red than the right, with a jagged scratch along the cheekbone. Blood had dripped from his nose, splattered across the front of his chin and shirt. He looks like he got beat up.... Her brow raises. But it’s all on one side of his face... Her lips poke out a bit as she considers the linear pattern of the marks on his face. Did he get those from ramming into my car?  

After a moment, she realizes he’s watching her, his left eye now half-closed, yet mirroring the deep intensity of the right as his gaze sharply pierces through her.  

“Umm...”  Jonah continues, taken aback and a little alarmed by his stare. He looks pretty young; why were they chasing this guy? “How many fingers am I holding up?” His breaths are less labored, but he doesn’t answer. Maybe he can’t focus or talk yet... 

“Can you hear me?” He blinks, brown lashes stark against his pale skin. “Does that mean yes?” In the distance, Jonah hears the approaching sirens of an ambulance. “Help is on the way... do you understand my words?” She watches as his eyes roam her form, landing on her lips. She licks them reflexively. “What’s your name?” she asks again, becoming more concerned. “Hey!” she says louder, snapping her fingers an inch from his face.

His mouth twitches a little. 

She squints. Is.... She pauses a moment, takes a good look at his entire expression. Is that a smile? 

“Are you...” A hint of dimple appears in his cheek. “Um, excuse me,” She raises a brow. “Are you smiling?” The hint deepens into a full-on crater. “You are smiling!” Jonah snorts, aghast. “You almost died, that’s not funny!” She chuckles despite herself. “It scared the shit out of me...” His swollen lips spread into a contagious grin, persuading the corners of her mouth into a soft smile. Hold up, wait. She backs away a little, suddenly unsure if this guy grinning like a fool is actually a helpless victim. 

‘Clumsy’ hisses as he tries to sit up, erupting into fit of harsh coughs. “I don’t think you should be trying to move…” ‘He raises to a seated position, hand clutching his left side. He leans towards her, opening his mouth as if to speak, and proceeds to hurl the contents of his stomach into her lap.

Helplessly, Jonah’s eyes widen as warm goop covers her jeans, adding to the mess of snow and mud she sits in. Initially pissed, she gradually becomes just relieved that the guy on the ground is alive. After a while, he takes a few gulps of cold air, stomach now apparently empty.

“Sydney.” 

The sudden, soft deepness of his voice vibrates through her, settling just below her navel. She shivers, not really expecting a response after being ignored for so long. Yeah, this guy must be delirious. Talking about foreign cities and shit. 

“What?” Confused, Jonah frowns as a miasma of vomit and alcohol smacks into her senses.

He grabs a handful of fresh, white snow and shoves it into his mouth, swishing it around a bit before he spits it out beside him. Startled, Jonah glances at the pink-tinged slush he’d just splattered on the ground, then watches as he slowly drags his tongue across the cut on his lower lip. He looks at her with a gleam in his eye, lips parting as he tongues the inside of his cheek.

“My name...” He pauses, flashing those dimples again. “Is Sydney.”