The Air You Breathe by Jave Kavfi

The Air You Breathe by Jave Kavfi

Author:Jave Kavfi [Kavfi, Jave]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-05-31T22:00:00+00:00


Chapter 22

Something is tickling her ear and then not. It happens again and pulls her fully awake. Not Boris, she can feel the weight of him at the end of the bed. A feather from the pillow? Can't feel it now but she's unable to get comfortable enough to go back to sleep. The duvet appears to be in a tangle and the fitted sheet has sprung loose from the mattress. She looks at the lit bedside clock. 3am – is that the witching or the devil's hour, when supernatural forces are at their most powerful? She read that somewhere and wishes she hadn't.

Doom floods her in the darkness and she quickly switches on the bedside lamp. Better. Much. But she doesn't feel right. Not ill, more ill at ease. Here in her bed where she should feel safest of all. The light seems dull, even with the lamp. Gloomy, and looming shadows in the corners of the room. These are the hours fear pours in and leaves her feeling cold and alone. Even with the sleeping Boris, she still has that sense of dread and emptiness. Her head filled with thoughts she does not want and can't bear.

Jarek's last moments as he hurtled through the night air – this terrible thought hits and she sits up, gasping. She must move fast. Get up. Do something. Fill her mind and replace the unbearable thoughts with safe ones. Because what comes next is too awful and must be blanked out. Too late. What happened in the final seconds. His awareness of his terrible fate. Please god he had none – that he was unconscious with shock before the landing that broke him to bits.

She's out of bed and desperately going through her things. No television up here – the news could creep in and she can't bear it. Her laptop was sold for fares when she moved and her phone is a basic model, with few distractions. A book. Books are safe. Sometimes. She has bundles stacked all over.

But it must be right. Nothing that would set her off, and practically anything would if she allowed it. Not travel or journeys, because it will remind her of their plans that can never happen. Not love, for obvious reasons. Nothing violent or paranormal. Not one of her baby books tonight, because it will remind her he will never see his child. Something that won't get to her heart. For weeks now she has mostly been beyond crying and has managed to block the worst of it out. She won't and can't give into it. What that would do to his baby inside her. Grief so deep and bitter it would seep like a poison from her to their daughter or son. Babies, children, deserve so much more than a shaking, terrified, grieving mother.

The perfect book. A lightweight, happy story for occasions such as this. Back in bed with her head resting on the pillow. Trying hard to concentrate, though the words are dancing on the page.


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