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They tell me breathe. Just breathe.

When the flood comes and darkness reigns.

Hold on just a little longer.

Go a little farther.

But, in the end, what’s the point? Why keep going when it hurts too much?

Emma underlined the last line twice. Why indeed?

She pulled off her bracelets and rubbed the raised scars. The urge to add another mark rose. Closing her eyes, Emma pinched the skin. No. It had been three months since the last time she’d given in to temptation. Her father’s weathered brown face flashed in her mind. Disappointment and worry marred his kind expression.

He’d never brought it up with her directly. One day, he’d eyed her wrist and told her she was the most precious woman in his life and then made an appointment with a therapist. She’d gone for more than a year. He’d driven her there every time but never directly spoken to her about it.

It was in those therapy sessions she’d learned some coping techniques. But nothing ever worked for long. Five years were down the drain from her relapse back in January. Sometimes music wasn’t enough. Sometimes, when the pain was too much and nothing helped, cutting kept her alive. Life was drowning her, and the blade gave her a gasp of fresh oxygen before she was pulled under again.

It wasn’t that Emma wanted to die. No, she very much wanted to live. She’d never do that to her friends. It was just that sometimes it was all too much. This was her way of hanging on just a little longer. Her way to breathe.

12

Link

Link turned the radio down before he cracked his neck to the side. They’d been driving for four hours already. He angled towards Emma. Her golden hair fanned out over her face, the pink and blue ends matching her pastel hoodie. Her legs were tucked under her, covered in black leggings with mesh that crisscrossed in strips running down each side. He returned his attention to the road ahead, rolling down the window in an attempt to cool the heat that rushed through him at the slightest peek of her skin.

Damn, what is wrong with me?

A light snore came from his passenger. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the side of his mouth. He’d heard that damn guitar through the wall until two in the morning. No wonder she was exhausted today. Memories flicked through his mind. It was just like old times, when they’d both lived with his dad.

Link was the one who’d taught her to play in the first place.

“Hey! Why did you shut my music off?” Emma asked, her face flaming red as her eyes burned with anger.

Link stepped away from the CD player on her shelf and surveyed her room. She sat and crossed her arms in front of her chest. He stepped towards her bed and pulled the guitar from behind his back before shoving it in her hands.

Today was a hard day for her. She’d gotten news her mother had died, and Link understood what that was like. She needed an outlet, a way to express herself.

Emma’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open as she took in the instrument. She didn’t reach for it, timid as she’d always been. Her eyes curiously flicked back and forth between him and the instrument.

“I figure if you learn to play, your taste in music will improve,” he teased.

Disbelief flashed in her cautious gaze. “You got this for me?”

“I thought it was about time you had your own.”

She smiled, eyes lighting up as she cradled the guitar in her arms like it was the most precious thing. Her eyes grew watery, but she didn’t cry. Emma had never cried as long as he’d known her.

“Link, this is the best gift ever.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around him. “Why did you get it for me?”

“Because I love you, little bird.”

When she pulled back, pure adoration reflected in her baby blues, and it was all aimed at him.

Every week, he’d taught her a few chords. She’d never complained about the pain in her fingers. She had done everything he’d told her, memorizing them and stringing together songs on her own in no time. They’d have weekend jam sessions, learning the covers to his favorite songs. Even Dad had given her a few to learn.

That duet they’d sung at his celebration of life was one of them. Did she still have that old Gibson?

She’d fucking worshipped his attention. And he’d protected her like the good big brother he was. When had everything changed between them? When had they grown apart?

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