Disclaimer: I don't own Skins.
A/N: This story takes place within Emily's episode, between when she left the rooftop to before she was sitting in the kitchen.
Naomi cheated. She cheated. She fucking cheated.
What is it that you do when you feel like you can no longer breath? I was breathing, but the air would not reach my lungs. The oxygen would be pulled into the inflating and deflating sacks only to smack, hard, into a brick wall, causing my chest to heave as I gasped feeling the sharp pains stabbing at my breast. I swallowed, gasped, and panted while the tears ran down my already flushed stained cheeks. This was drowning without the water; I was fucking suffocating covered in air.
Air; air everywhere, but not a puff to breath.
Invisibly, the weightless substance clung to my body, forming to my curves, melding to every strand of hair that whipped about my face, even suctioning to the teardrops that leaked endlessly from my eyes. It clung to me, despite the fact that I was ripping through it, pushing my body to ram into it as I flew past street corners and pushed past people who turned to yell angrily at my distancing form. I couldn't hear them. It didn't matter anyway; I was suffocating.
If I was going to suffocate to death, I would see to it that the air died before me.
I love Naomi. I love her. I love her. I hate her.
The air whistled past my ears; my feet pounded into the concert, beating it mercilessly as much as I wanted to punch the air and make it bleed. I wanted my hands to be painted red as I inflicted pain upon its body. It stung my nostrils, the breeze pushing the air into my nose, down huffing pathways, to closed off lungs. I gasped again, vomiting up the invisible force; my body rejecting it like a toxin.
I gasped until my heart hammered in my chest wanting to break free, struggling and choking, starving itself of blood and oxygen. My body was breaking. My heart was committing suicide as it shattered into a million sharp pieces. But I didn't, I couldn't, stop running.
"I could be dead in a second."
The irony. I could have jumped. Standing there on that ledge, something whispered in the far reassesses of my brain that I could jump. It would be over in a second, no pain, certainly none of this slow, tortured filled death by suffocation.
I could be dead now. Lying cold on the ground, my brain spattered about the gray concert like the shards of my heart scattered on the floor of my breast. Blood could have leaked from my veins, soaking the pavement in crimson. And my bones snapped and shattered like what my life had now become- a crumbled, smoldering shell of wreckage.
And in that span of time, that it would have taken me to reach the ground, I could have flown through the air, stubbornly trying to take its life with mine.
"Emily! Emily!" Her voice, it was desperate, it was scared- it was Naomi. And I loved her.
I ran. Pushing my legs as hard and as fast as they could go, I ran. I ran from her. I ran from myself. I ran to kill the air that had ripped from my lungs the moment she broke my heart.
My heart pounded in my chest, splitting, breaking, spitting out blood into my body, trying desperately to drown me from the inside out. My lungs sputtered, shriveling, as the air would not reach them, ripping themselves to shreds in the attempts to breath. And my body quivered, and shook from the sobs that wracked my frame and drained my eyes of moisture, while my feet slowed to a stop at my family's doorstep.
I knocked once, counting the seconds before my mother stood in the doorway facing me. Her face was blank; mine a mess almost as if I had bashed it into the pavement- the tears my blood, the flush broken veins, and the gasping my last breathe for life.
What is it that you do when you feel like you can no longer breath? I couldn't breath. I was suffocating.
She cheated. She cheated. I love her. I hate her. She cheated.