Barely Breathing

  Barely

  Breathing

  By

  Ancelli

  Copyright © 2013 Ancelli

  Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. This is an explicit and erotic novel intended for the enjoyment of adult readers only.

  Prologue

  John and Amy Morgan sat in front of their friends, Jason and Kay Anderson, at an upscale Italian restaurant. The night had started out great—until Amy began drinking.

  John stared at his friends. They’d been married longer than he and Amy had, but they still acted like newlyweds. Jason couldn’t keep his hands off Kay and John envied them for that. Every time he even tried to touch Amy’s hand, she always looked for a reason to pull away. Even so, he looked over at his wife, admiring her. He always complimented her light brown eyes. He missed the way they used to sparkle when he’d entered a room. Her brown hair fell in curls, the way he liked it, and as usual her makeup was flawless. But he couldn’t remember the last time she’d said “I love you.”

  As they finished their meal, Kay wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I want to plan something special for Sophia’s birthday.”

  Sophia was Kay’s best friend. They’d met in elementary school. When Kay’s parents died in a tragic accident, Sophia had been the only person there for her, a bond that lasted until they’d gone their separate ways after high school. They’d finally met up again three years earlier. Sophia reminded John of Toni Braxton, just a little darker and thicker, with long hair. He’d met her through Kay, and they’d all become mutual acquaintances until an altercation between her and Amy. Why would Kay bring up this birthday-planning thing in front of Amy? She had to know the two were at odds.

  “Like what, baby?” Jason asked, caressing her brown skin.

  “What about a surprise party?”

  “I thought Sophia didn’t like surprises?” John asked.

  “She doesn’t. That’s why it’s a great idea.” Kay smiled.

  “How is she?” John asked. “I haven’t seen her in months.”

  “She’s doing well. She started working for a new marketing firm down town.”

  “Tell her I said hi,” John said, just as he thought to pull the words back into his mouth. He glanced over at his wife. Mistake.

  “I will.”

  “Fuck her.” Amy took a long drink.

  John, along with all the others, was shocked by her outburst and stared into her eyes.

  “She didn’t quit. I fired that bitch.”

  Kay placed a strand of her curly, brown hair behind her ear. “Amy, you’re talking about my best friend,” she said, obviously trying not to get mad.

  “Well, your best friend doesn’t seem to know how to keep work and friendship separate.” Amy glared at Kay. “Let me rephrase that. She was never my friend.”

  John shot daggers at his wife. Her drinking was getting bad, making her out-of-control behavior even worse. Something was going on with her, and he didn’t know what. He’d tried everything he could think of, but she wouldn’t talk to him.

  “Let’s just change the subject,” Jason said, observing them.

  “Sophia thinks she’s better than me.” Amy rolled her eyes, taking another gulp of her drink.

  By the way she arched her brow and looked at Amy, John could tell Kay was irritated.

  “No, she doesn’t think she’s better than anyone. Sophia is one of the kindest people I know,” Kay said.

  Amy went to say something, and John grabbed her drink. “Amy, I think that’s enough for the night.” He glared at her, and placed the glass on the table.

  “Who do you…think you are?” she slurred, trying to grab her drink. John took hold of it first and moved it farther out of her reach.

  Amy tried to lean over, but Kay placed her hand on hers. “Amy, I think we should go to the restroom.”

  “I…I don’t need to go to the…bathroom.” She sat, looking forlornly at her drink.

  “I think you do,” Kay said in a stern voice.

  She looked at Kay and stood, rolling her eyes at John, and started stumbling toward the restroom. Kay hurriedly stood and followed her.

  John could see the concern on Jason’s face as the women left.

  “I’m worried about her. It’s getting worse,” John mumbled, watching the ladies leave.

  “She needs help.” Jason looked at him.

  John drew up his nerve and turned to meet Jason’s gaze. “You don’t think I know. My father was an alcoholic. She needs to want help.” He clenched his jaw. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Don’t give up on your family.”

  “I’ve tried everything. She’s never fucking home.” He tried to get his emotions under control. “Sometimes I think she doesn’t remember she’s even married.”

  “Do you remember when Kay and I went through some difficult times? You told me not to give up.” He picked up his glass. “We never gave up on each other.”

  “What you and Kay have is unique. You started out as friends.” He stared into his glass of water. “I see it in your eyes, the love you guys feel for each other. I’m far from perfect, but I always try to put my family first. When will she start doing that?” He took a sip of his water.

  “John, maybe something is going on with her.”

  “She won’t talk to me,” he said, lowering his head. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

  ***

  “Who does he think he is, telling me what to do?” Amy asked as she walked into the restroom.

  Kay followed her in, closed the door, and stared at her in disbelief. “Amy, he’s worried about you.”

  “Why?”

  “Look at you! Every time I see you, you’re drunk.” Kay stepped in front of her. “You have a problem, and you need help.”

  Amy’s face got red. She raised her voice. “I don’t need help. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “If you don’t have a problem, then stop drinking.” She raised her voice, too.

  “I can if I want to.” She glared at Kay.

  Kay’s voice softened. “Amy, you’re my friend, but you’re out of control.”

  “Out of control?”

  “People talk. They are saying you’ve been cheating on John. You know, Sophia quit working with you because of your out-of-control behavior. I don’t know what she saw, but I know she would never hurt John. He doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment. If you don’t watch out, someone else will tell John.”

  Amy practically shot daggers at Kay when she mentioned the cheating. She crossed her hands over her chest. “I hope you didn’t tell your husband those lies.”

  “Did you sleep with one of the partners? Because if you did, John will eventually find out.” She grabbed her wrist. “Do you even love your husband?”

  “Of course.” She snatched her hand away and walked over to the mirror, looking at her reflection, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “You’re an alcoholic.”

  She angrily turned and glared at her. “How dare you call me that?”

  “Because that’s what you’re becoming. If you don’t get help, you’ll lose your family.”

  “I don’t know why I do what I do sometimes.” She wiped her tears. “But I haven’t cheated on John.”

  Kay knew for a fact she was lying, but her friend ne
eded her. She put her hand on her shoulder. “You need help.” She pulled her into a hug. “If you want help, I’m here.”

  Chapter One

  Two weeks later

  It was two in the morning when Amy entered their bedroom and turned on all the lights.

  “Johnny, Mommy’s home!” She yelled the words over and over. “Johnny, Mommy’s home. Mommy is home!”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” John jumped out of bed and glared at her. Her brown hair was a mess. Here we go again. She’s drunk. Over the last few weeks her drinking had gotten progressively worse. He loved his wife, but enough was enough.

  She stumbled into the room and pointed her finger at him. “He’s my…son… I want him to know Momma’s home.”

  He closed the door and took fast strides toward her. “At two in the fucking morning!” he raised his voice.

  Her eyes could barely focus as she sat on the bed and began weaving back and forth as she tried to slip off her shoes. “Fuck you, John!” She laughed. “Johnny!” She screamed louder. “Johnny! John…ny”

  “I can’t take this anymore.” He grabbed her and put her over his shoulder.

  “John, put me down.” She pummeled his back. “Put me down now!”

  He opened the bathroom door, walked to the shower and turned the water on cold, placing her under the showerhead with her clothes on. The water made her sputter.

  John ignored her, speaking over the drone of her words as the frigid water beat down on the both of them. “Amy, you need help. I don’t know what to do for you anymore.” His voice echoed off the wall of the stall. “This can’t continue. If you don’t get help, you’re going to lose everything. Please let me help you.”

  “I don’t… need help. Nothing is wrong with me.” She kept struggling to get free from his grip.

  He held her close until she stopped fighting. After a few minutes, she sobered up a little, but he knew from experience only time would get the alcohol out of her system. He turned off the water, picked up her prone form and stalked back into the bedroom. There he removed the sodden clothes from her body, wrapped her in a robe, and helped ease her beneath the bed linen. She finally passed out in his arms. He slowly shifted out of her embrace, and placed her in the middle of the mattress. John left the room, without a look back, he picked up her keys, turned off the light, and left the room.

  He walked into Johnny’s room, making sure she hadn’t woken him. He kissed his three-and-a-half-year-old son’s head. “I’ll protect you, even from her.” He turned off his nightlight and strode back out.

  He couldn’t do it anymore. Something had to give. He went into the living room and eventually fell asleep on the couch.

  ***

  He woke up a little stiff from sleeping on the sofa.

  He heard Amy yelling for him.

  Ignoring her, he stood and looked at the clock on the wall. Six. Enough time for breakfast and to make it to work on time. He walked into the kitchen and started the coffee machine.

  “I know you heard me calling you,” Amy said, marching into the kitchen.

  He turned and looked at her.

  She had her arms over her chest. “John, how dare you?”

  He took fast strides and was in front of her in seconds. “How dare I what, Amy?”

  She took a step back. “Take my keys.”

  He arched a brow, surprised. He’d thought she would have been more likely to mention the shower incident. “Last night you drove home drunk. Are you crazy? You could’ve killed someone, or yourself.”

  “Well, I’m not drunk now, so give me my keys.” She placed her hand in front of him, waiting for him to hand over the keys.

  “No.” He turned to the coffee machine.

  “How am I supposed to get to work and take Johnny to school?”

  “I can’t let you put our son’s and other people’s lives at risk. Take a taxi, and I’ll start taking Johnny to school.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and, with a deep breath, gave her his attention.

  She turned red, though he could see her working to keep her cool. “You can’t do that. I’m not drinking.”

  “You’re not drinking right now, but I never know when you’ll start.” He moved closer to her. “Amy, you came in at two in the morning. Do you think that’s an appropriate time for a married woman to get home?”

  “I was working late.”

  He laughed sarcastically. “Really! That’s your excuse? You could have come up with something better.” He walked past her to the dining room.

  She followed him. “You are not my father. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

  “You’re right, Amy, I’m not your daddy. But we are married, or did you forget that?” He placed his cup down, took her hand in his, and gazed deep into her eyes. “Talk to me. I want to help you. What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes shined with tears. “Nothing is wrong.”

  He sighed. “You’re an alcoholic.”

  She forcefully jerked her hand away. “You and Kay are talking behind my back now. What else did she tell you?” She glared at him.

  He looked at her, surprised. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Kay and I haven’t spoken a word about you.”

  Tears ran down her beautiful face. “How dare you call me an alcoholic?”

  “Because that’s what you’ve become.” He cupped her face. “Amy, I know the signs and if you choose to ignore them, Johnny and I won’t live under the same roof with you.”

  She hurriedly backed away from his touch. “I love my son.”

  “Right now it seems that you love alcohol more.” Her eyes got big as he said those words. “You are a different person when you drink.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re the best mom I know when you’re not drunk, but when you drink you scare him. He hides from you, and lately it seems to be happing more and more. I want to help you. I love you, Amy, but you have to want my help. I’m at loss here. I don’t know what else to do. What can I do for our marriage to work?”

  “Nothing.” She focused away from him, fixing her eyes on the coffee maker. “I don’t know if I want it to work.”

  His heart stopped for a few seconds. “What are you saying? You don’t love me anymore?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

  He took a deep breath, controlling his anger. “I guess I now know where we stand.”

  “John, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “It’s too late, Amy. The words already left your mouth.” He shook his head in disbelief, and began to walk off.

  “Give me my keys!” She yelled. “Give me my keys!”

  “No!” he yelled back. Entering their bedroom, he hurried to dress and then went into their son’s room and got him up and clothed. Not fifteen minutes later, they both strolled out of the child’s room. Amy sat still on the sofa.

  “Good morning, Mommy.” His little boy ran to her and kissed her cheek.

  “Good morning, love,” she said, kissing him back.

  John entered the kitchen fixed his son a bowl of cereal. Johnny came into the kitchen, and with his usual gusto, quickly ate his breakfast.

  As John organized backpacks, briefcases, and little John’s lunchbox, Amy came to them and kneeled down in front of their son. “Johnny, I want you to know that I love you with all my heart, and I’m so sorry for hurting you.” She hugged him, gave him a kiss, and stood.

  “I love you too, Mommy,” Johnny said, grabbing his backpack, and strolling to the front door.

  John and Amy stared at each other for a couple of seconds, until John caved and spoke first. “I can’t do this alone anymore. I can’t fight for something you don’t want.” John closed the door and followed his son.

  Chapter Two

  Later that evening

  John couldn’t believe the words he was reading. His wife of four years had left him a letter confessing it all.

  Dear Joh
n,

  Let me start by saying that I do love you. I finally realized that I’m sick and I’ve decided to leave and get the help I need. It all started when I was a teenager and I realized the control I had when I drank. I crave alcohol like a drug. I’m an alcoholic, and because of this addiction I’ve even cheated on you. The sex was always meaningless. I always felt guilty afterwards, but I know that’s not an excuse. John, my addiction has nothing to do with you, or our marriage. I don’t understand why I drink, but I can’t control the urge. I’ve tried to stop, but I have no control. I’m so sorry, you’re such a wonderful man…but I needed more… I tried to be the wife and mother that you so deserve, and that wasn’t me, but that’s what I want to be. I hit my lowest a few months ago. This is so hard for me to tell you, but here goes—I had an abortion. I didn’t know if the baby was yours. I didn’t want to lie to you again. I hate myself for what I’ve done, and John, I hope that you can forgive me, and give me another chance… I’m getting the help that I need. I want our family; you and Johnny are my life. I just have to learn to be loved, and love. I will be back when I’m better, and I know I can be a better wife and mother.

  Love always,

  Amy

  John read the same lines over and over. This is so hard for me to tell you, but here goes—I had an abortion. I didn’t know if the baby was yours. I didn’t want to lie to you again. I didn’t want to lie to you again.

  Again.

  Lie to you again.

  His heart dropped. What could that mean? Is Johnny not my son? He thought of the little boy he’d just tucked into bed.

  He stared at the letter, and absently combed through his hair. “How could she? Four fucking years.”

  He got up and walked over to the window, watching the raindrops as they fell to the ground.

  He read the letter one more time, then folded it and put it into his jeans pocket. Why did she get to leave? She’s the coward for writing a letter, instead of facing me. He needed some time to himself, to get away from the house, and shamefully, from his son. He knew Johnny wasn’t to blame, but he needed to think. He picked up the phone and dialed.