Save Your Breath, I'm Done Drowning - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading Save Your Breath, I'm Done Drowning, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of Save Your Breath, I'm Done Drowning.
Alyssa wiped away her tears, her voice shaking as she choked out the words, "Dad... Mom... Where's Mia? Back then, she almost died trying to save me from those traffickers. If some stranger hadn't stepped in..." Her breath hitched. "I've missed her so much."
The room spun. My parents went deathly still, their faces draining of color. A silent, panicked look passed between them—the truth crashing down like a collapsing roof.
All at once, it hit them—the lies they'd believed, the cruel accusations, the decade of icy resentment they'd directed at me. Ten years. Ten years spent doting on an imposter while treating their real daughter like some unwanted burden.
Their breathing turned ragged, guilt twisting like a knife in their guts. What had they done?
Dad collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. "All this time... We were wrong. God, we were so wrong."
Mom fumbled for her phone, hands trembling so badly she nearly dropped it. She dialed my number—only to hear the robotic voice confirming what she already knew. Blocked.
"We have to fix this," she gasped, wild-eyed, turning to Dad. "How do we fix this?"
He snatched his own phone and punched in Dillon's number. One ring. Then nothing. A second attempt—same result. Blocked too.
"Damn it!" Dad exploded, his face contorted in frustration. "The kid's ghosting us!"
Panic propelled them into motion. Coats grabbed, keys snatched—they bolted for the car. The drive to Dillon's place was a haze of desperate prayers and screeching tires.
But the house stood silent, unwelcoming. No amount of pounding or pleading got a response. Even the neighbors pretended not to see them, curtains twitching shut.
Out of options, they rushed to the police station. Sitting across from a bored-looking officer, they filed a missing person report—clinging to one last shred of hope.
It died when the cop returned with a shrug. "No trail. She doesn't want to be found."
Their legs gave out. Right there on the sidewalk, they crumpled into each other, sobbing like lost children as strangers gawked and walked around them.
Meanwhile, half a world away, I'd built a new life.
Green Ridge was the kind of place city folks called "quaint"—a tiny mountain village tucked between rolling hills, where the air smelled like pine and wildflowers. Wooden cottages with sloping roofs dotted the landscape, connected by winding dirt paths.
The villagers treated me like family. No fake smiles, no hidden agendas—just simple, honest kindness. Exactly what I needed after a lifetime of betrayal.
I hadn't stumbled here by accident. Five years ago, Gabriel and I had crashed our car into a raging river. When I woke up—bruised, broken, and half-drowned—it was in this village. The locals had fished us out, patched us up.
Some wounds never heal, though. Shielding Gabriel in the crash cost me my hearing. The world went silent overnight.
Before we left, Gabriel had squeezed my hand and vowed, "First thing when we get back, I'm marrying you." I'd believed him. Then he proposed to Alyssa at our own damn wedding.
So I came back to Green Ridge. Bought a little plot of land, built a cozy cabin overlooking the woods. My days were simple now—gardening, foraging, sharing meals with the sweet old lady next door. Village kids treated my place like their second home, their laughter (even if I couldn't hear it) warming the walls.
For the first time in years, I breathed easy. The past still ached, but it didn't own me anymore.
Then Dillon showed up.
It was a gray afternoon. I was hauling a basket of wild greens with my neighbor when a car's engine growled through the trees.
A sleek black sedan skidded to a stop, dust swirling around it. My stomach dropped.
The window rolled down. Dillon looked like hell—pale, hollow-eyed, like he hadn't slept in weeks. He just stared, like he couldn't believe I was real.
Then he stepped out, moving like a man walking to his own execution.
"Honey," he rasped, voice raw. "I found you."
I recoiled, gripping the basket like a weapon. "Don't move!"
He froze, hands half-raised. "Please... I know I screwed up. Hiding things, how I treated Alyssa... I've changed. I swear." His throat worked. "I didn't see it then, but... I'm in love with you. I thought Alyssa was—"
The room spun. My parents went deathly still, their faces draining of color. A silent, panicked look passed between them—the truth crashing down like a collapsing roof.
All at once, it hit them—the lies they'd believed, the cruel accusations, the decade of icy resentment they'd directed at me. Ten years. Ten years spent doting on an imposter while treating their real daughter like some unwanted burden.
Their breathing turned ragged, guilt twisting like a knife in their guts. What had they done?
Dad collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. "All this time... We were wrong. God, we were so wrong."
Mom fumbled for her phone, hands trembling so badly she nearly dropped it. She dialed my number—only to hear the robotic voice confirming what she already knew. Blocked.
"We have to fix this," she gasped, wild-eyed, turning to Dad. "How do we fix this?"
He snatched his own phone and punched in Dillon's number. One ring. Then nothing. A second attempt—same result. Blocked too.
"Damn it!" Dad exploded, his face contorted in frustration. "The kid's ghosting us!"
Panic propelled them into motion. Coats grabbed, keys snatched—they bolted for the car. The drive to Dillon's place was a haze of desperate prayers and screeching tires.
But the house stood silent, unwelcoming. No amount of pounding or pleading got a response. Even the neighbors pretended not to see them, curtains twitching shut.
Out of options, they rushed to the police station. Sitting across from a bored-looking officer, they filed a missing person report—clinging to one last shred of hope.
It died when the cop returned with a shrug. "No trail. She doesn't want to be found."
Their legs gave out. Right there on the sidewalk, they crumpled into each other, sobbing like lost children as strangers gawked and walked around them.
Meanwhile, half a world away, I'd built a new life.
Green Ridge was the kind of place city folks called "quaint"—a tiny mountain village tucked between rolling hills, where the air smelled like pine and wildflowers. Wooden cottages with sloping roofs dotted the landscape, connected by winding dirt paths.
The villagers treated me like family. No fake smiles, no hidden agendas—just simple, honest kindness. Exactly what I needed after a lifetime of betrayal.
I hadn't stumbled here by accident. Five years ago, Gabriel and I had crashed our car into a raging river. When I woke up—bruised, broken, and half-drowned—it was in this village. The locals had fished us out, patched us up.
Some wounds never heal, though. Shielding Gabriel in the crash cost me my hearing. The world went silent overnight.
Before we left, Gabriel had squeezed my hand and vowed, "First thing when we get back, I'm marrying you." I'd believed him. Then he proposed to Alyssa at our own damn wedding.
So I came back to Green Ridge. Bought a little plot of land, built a cozy cabin overlooking the woods. My days were simple now—gardening, foraging, sharing meals with the sweet old lady next door. Village kids treated my place like their second home, their laughter (even if I couldn't hear it) warming the walls.
For the first time in years, I breathed easy. The past still ached, but it didn't own me anymore.
Then Dillon showed up.
It was a gray afternoon. I was hauling a basket of wild greens with my neighbor when a car's engine growled through the trees.
A sleek black sedan skidded to a stop, dust swirling around it. My stomach dropped.
The window rolled down. Dillon looked like hell—pale, hollow-eyed, like he hadn't slept in weeks. He just stared, like he couldn't believe I was real.
Then he stepped out, moving like a man walking to his own execution.
"Honey," he rasped, voice raw. "I found you."
I recoiled, gripping the basket like a weapon. "Don't move!"
He froze, hands half-raised. "Please... I know I screwed up. Hiding things, how I treated Alyssa... I've changed. I swear." His throat worked. "I didn't see it then, but... I'm in love with you. I thought Alyssa was—"
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