Please Stop Breathing

By Austen Szott

I’ll say it again, and maybe this time I can get up.

Maybe this time I can stand.

“Goodbye.”

I caress you a million last times. Each time my hand runs up through your hair, it’ll be the last time. The last feeling you have of me, and of this place if you can feel it at all, and maybe I still think you’re hearing all of this, laying there, that you’re still with me yet and we’re just almost there. I say goodbye many last times, and maybe the last one you do hear from me will be the one that matters, the best one.

The one that works.

I shimmy up the blanket around your neck, all soft and fuzzy scratchy on your skin, I’m sure. Here’s some warmth for the last bits, some comfort in the comfort—far away.

It helps me pull away my hand from yours and to look away when I see that hand hang where I held it, and when I don’t feel your living grip on my slipping hand the way it once did. It helps me start to cover you up.

Do you need darkness?

Is that what you need?

I’ll cover your eyes with the blanket for a time, give you rest, and I’ll come back to check on you.

Somehow, I can’t imagine you’ll be gone by then, either. But when it’s supposed to feel like time, time to say goodbye, it always seems like a risk, a chance, and running away. Now that I can stand, and can walk, I feel like I’m running away, and all this time on my knees has only been my kneeling at the starting line, too afraid to take off.

I wonder that you could have felt those caresses forever, on and on into darkness, and that helps me pull my other hand away. It helps me quit lifting at your head and neck the way I did some time ago when I was still trying to move you to a comfort of the living, not this hanging place of careless bones.

I pull the blanket over the side of your face, nestled into its softness.

No, I don’t know when you’ll die, when you’ve died, or why I don’t know—I should—I owed that much to you, to know death better to give you comfort in it—to know brightly when you’re here, to dig my fingers like forever into your neck—to know easily when you’re gone, to dig my fingers into mine—

To cover you and carry you away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austen Szott
• Release date: Jul 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452440385

Austen Szott

Author of numerous novels, novellas, and pieces of short fiction, blends of romance, thriller, horror and visionary science-fiction. Paperback editions and collections at Amazon.com -- https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/s/ref=is_s?k=Austen+Szott

Book preview

PLEASE STOP BREATHING

Austen Szott

Copyright 2011 Austen Szott

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1

"I’ll see you after the weekend, okay?

I’ll be coming back Sunday or Monday—I’m not sure yet. Momma’s here and she’ll take care of you while I’m gone.

It won’t be worth it to shake you up for just the weekend. The trip, the one you hate. You can just stay here. I’ll see you soon.

I’ll see you soon.

I’ll see you soon.

Chapter 2

I’ll see you in a week, okay?

I guess I just forgot all about this trip. Chicago, family, for a week. You’ll be, okay. Momma’s gonna keep taking care of you. I forgot that the flight was this soon. Right after the weekend. We’ve been busy lately, huh?

I missed you down there this weekend. I thought it would be such a short time that it wouldn’t matter—and I mean to me. I thought I’d pretty much forget about you, like I feel bad about doing sometimes. You know, when I got everything going for me. But I came home a couple of times, opened our apartment door, and I said ‘hey’ and I yelled out your name and I was thinking about seeing you around the corner. You know, I kept doing things the way we always do when I get home, when I come see you and make food and when I’m tired. When I’m all lonely and miserable like I get in the day.

But you weren’t there and I felt like I left you.

But I gotta leave you again.

It’s okay. It’s just this week and then we’re headed back down for this year. This good, awesome year we have ahead of us. The one I have ahead of me. Last week and then we can get back to work, and get back home.

I’ll see you soon.

Chapter 3

How are you doing in there? I’m back. See?

The trip was fun but I hate those big cities. They’re more miserable than here no matter how good a humor we’re in. I feel like you taught me that and now I don’t care to go anywhere. It’s almost a bad thing!

But at the same time, that’s why I’m so excited for this next year, because of me. Because of us. Got the right attitude finally, and I was down for a long, long time.

I’m glad we’re coming up.

I’m glad we’re out and coming to life.

Let’s go home.

Chapter 4

I have to make a call.

I’m not leaving again, I promise.

"Mom, if you can call me back, something’s wrong with her. I don’t know, I got her home yesterday and she wasn’t acting right. I think something happened to her legs, or her hips or something because she was just walking around and stumbling on things. Her feet just kept dropping through stuff like she didn’t care it was there . . . or something. And in the car yesterday, on the way down, she was just letting them hang, like letting them drag around and I thought she was just being lazy, kind of. I don’t know, it was like it was in her head too cuz