Free to Breathe Read online

  Free to Breathe

  K. L. Shandwick

  Copyright © 2018 K.L. Shandwick

  All rights reserved.

  The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book is a work of fiction, Names, places, characters, band names and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or names are used within the fictitious setting. Any resemblance to actual person’s living or dead. Band names or locales are entirely coincidental unless quoted as artists.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Other Titles by K.L. Shandwick

  About the Author

  Find K. L. Shandwick on Social Media

  Acknowledgments

  Author: KL Shandwick

  Publicist: KL Shandwick

  Cover Design: AM Creations

  Editor: Andie M Long Editing and Proofreading

  Formatter: Kris Vellum

  Beta readers: Elmarie Pieterse, Lisa Ashley Perkins, Sarah Lintott

  Proof reading, Kim Gray, Sue Noyes and Lisa Ashley Perkins

  Copyright © 2018 K. L. Shandwick– The author of the book

  1st Edition

  The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Disclaimer: This book has mature content and explicit reference to sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers aged 18+.

  This novella is a work of fiction; names, places, characters, band names and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or names are used within the fictitious setting of the story. Any resemblance to actual person’s living or dead band names or locales are entirely coincidental unless acknowledged as the artist.

  Chapter One

  Maggie

  “Are you feeling okay?"

  I forced a nod even though I wasn’t. The January climate was warm and dry in Sydney, much different to the biting cold weather I had left when I flew out of New York the day before.

  “Are you ready? If you’d care to follow me, you can see your sister in a few minutes.” I stared blankly but I could see he was moved by my horrible situation.

  I’ll never be ready for this.

  Holding my breath, I fought the sick sense of panic I was barely suppressing. Only someone walking in my shoes would know the debilitating emotions controlling my thoughts in that moment. My aching head began to swim as I rose from my chair and stood to follow him. I lost my balance and landed heavily back down on the chair again.

  “Do you want a glass of water, Margaret?” Jeffery enquired. His concerned gaze registered with me when he saw my difficulty in following his instruction.

  “No, thank you. I just need a minute, do you mind?” I asked as I wrung my hands together. It was overwhelming.

  “No, of course not. Take your time. I’m right here with you. Just tell me when you want to do this.”

  Staring up at him, I saw his eyes soften in sympathy because he realized his mistake. No one would ever want to be in this position, to do what I had to do. Strangely, his recognition of that fact calmed me. Then I figured I’d been hard in my initial judgment of him. What had happened wasn’t his fault, yet he looked sorry. I felt my throat roll as I swallowed back my tears and drew in a deep breath, right before I heard a voice that I realized afterward was mine.

  “Okay, Mr. Barker. Please would you take me to Shona now? I’m ready.” My voice carried a level of quiet confidence I didn’t feel inside. It sounded brave to my ears.

  The heels of my shoes clicked loudly against the polished concrete flooring as we walked in silence along a long corridor. The clinical odor of bleach and disinfectant made my stomach roll. My mind flitted, distracted between long term memories of Shona and the events I had learned about in recent days.

  As a young woman I’d already had more than my fair share of distressing events to deal with and asked myself if the death of my father and mother was preparation for the biggest, saddest challenge of my life? If those tragedies were, they hadn’t worked because nothing could have prepared me for this.

  The previous forty-eight hours were in part blurred and part vivid and painful. Each thought vying for the most prominent position in my mind. Then again, I was exhausted from all the harrowing information and subsequent legalities I’d had to cope with. By the time I had met Mr. Barker face-to-face I had become so worn by the burden of my responsibilities I was prepared for anyone else to tell me what to do. By then the only thing I could focus on was seeing my sister.

  During the previous ninety minutes I’d completed a full day of travel, with changes, and arrived in Sydney International Airport from New York. The flight was long and indirect which added to my misery. I had felt like I was on a never-ending journey. A consulate official was already waiting to meet me on my arrival and after a polite, somewhat impersonal introduction, I was ushered to a waiting black sedan parked in the drop-off zone.

  Once inside the car his manner appeared different. His sounded calm and the way he appeared at ease when he spoke about my sister told me he was probably well versed in receiving people in my situation.

  I had barely caught my breath by the time he began reeling off the agenda he’d planned like some script he had learned with the optimum amount of sympathy in his tone as he delivered all the words someone in my position needed to hear. His sincerity may have fooled some, but he didn’t convince me in the slightest. I knew he was only doing his job.

  The journey from the airport didn’t take long before we arrived at our destination at Westmead Hospital. A renewed sense of horror washed over me from the moment I saw the name of the place where my sister was being kept.

  Silent tears streamed down my face as I stared at the tall building full of rectangular glass windows. I left them unchecked and trained my eyes on the entrance doorway thinking there was nothing else I could do except cry to relieve some of the sadness in my heart.

  Seconds later, Jeffery Barker, the US embassy representative, slid across the seat and exited onto the sidewalk. He waited for me to alight and guided me sile
ntly into the building, resting a hand on the small of my back. It occurred to me how intimate his gesture was for someone so formal, and that I was a stranger to him. When he stopped in front of one of the white, shiny doors, it drew my attention back to the present and I knew part of my journey was almost at an end.

  Being led into the quiet, seemingly airless room, my eyes were drawn to the short mustard-colored velvet drapes on the opposite wall, as soon as he opened the door. They were the sole focus for my attention. A stab of pain tore at my gut as blood rushed to my ears and swished rhythmically as my anxiety levels instantly escalated. My heartbeat fluttered irregularly in response to my acknowledgment of the imminent gruesome task ahead of me.

  I’d been so distracted that I hadn’t noticed when the solemn faced male doctor entered the room because I had been concentrating on not passing out from the trauma of the whole ordeal.

  “Hello, Margaret. May I offer my sincerest condolences? My name is Dr. Colin Spence and I’m the lead pathologist here. I’m very sorry to have met you under these circumstances. As you are obviously aware, your sister Shona requires formal identification before we can continue with the next stage of our preparations for her body’s repatriation to the USA. We’re going to try to make this as easy for you as possible.”

  His voice was soft, but devoid of emotion and I wondered if it was because of the work he did. Was he desensitized to breaking bad news?

  Colin was the second person I’d spoken to since I’d arrived in Sydney, if I didn’t count the immigration staff at the airport. Neither man appeared willing to say what I needed to hear, their blunt words obliterating any remote hopes I had of them being mistaken. The sedation medication I had been given had made it easier to bear and at times I felt it was all a bad dream.

  Except I knew in my heart none of it was a dream. I was wide awake and at that moment, I knew what I was about to see was heartbreakingly real.

  Jeffery reached out and put his hand on my upper arm, squeezing it gently. His touch instantly comforted me. By then any human touch was welcome.

  “Would you like me to stay with you, Margaret?”

  I dragged my tired eyes away from the drapes, scanned them across his chest and looked up toward his face. Eventually they met his. What a horrible job he has if this is how he earns his living. Do I want him to stay? My numb robotic-type behavior suddenly left me, like a cliff face shearing off into the sea, and I was filled with the impact of the moment. I felt crushed under the weight of the burden I had to find the strength for. No one should do this alone.

  “Margaret?”

  The young Australian doctor’s accent pulled me out of my reverie and my frightened eyes darted from Jeffery’s eyes to his.

  The question in his tone made me think for a second he’d asked me something else, but I looked back at Jeffery and then I remembered what he wanted to know.

  “Yes.” My voice was small and distant. I cleared my throat and said it again. Louder.

  “Yes, please stay with me.” Fear led me to seek comfort, and I reached out, grabbing his huge warm hand. His fingers instantly clasped around mine and he gave me a gentle I-got-you type squeeze.

  For the next few minutes, Dr. Spence explained the process before he opened the door. He informed us he would come back afterwards to explain the next steps. What happens next? What did that even mean? Next for Shona? Next for me and my family?

  As he left the room the lights dimmed, and I looked toward the ceiling. The lower lighting was strangely comforting and suddenly the whole scenario seemed weird as I stood in the semi-darkness with Jeffery from the American Consulate holding my hand tightly like we were a couple.

  “Are you ready, Margaret?”

  No one called me Margaret, everyone that knew me best called me Maggie.

  My throat rolled once more as I swallowed hard and then I took the deepest breath I could manage. "Please… no… I… I’ll never be ready for this.” I stared at the velvet drape again and felt my stinging eyes brimming with tears until they were so full they blurred, and I could hardly see anything.

  As if he anticipated my tears Jeffery produced a crisp white cotton handkerchief and instead of handing it to me, he gently held my chin and turned my face toward him. Like one would do with an infant he wiped my tears away. As soon as we made eye contact again he spoke.

  “This is a horrible, terrible thing you have to face here, Margaret. No one should ever have to do this, but the longer you prolong it the more distressed you’ll become. You know you have to do it, right?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. I felt helpless as I took a deep shuddery breath. Inclining my head toward the small braided cord that dangled down to his right, I heard myself say, “Okay. Do it.” My voice sounded flat, emotionless, despite the turmoil I felt inside.

  My heart pounded so hard I felt it pulse in my mouth, until Jeffery reached over and began to draw the curtain back to reveal a tinted window, then Shona, my baby sister, was slowly unveiled with every inch the drape retracted.

  The first thing I saw was her familiar soft platinum blonde hair. It was swept back from her face—all the way back. Not like she wore it at all. My eyes painstakingly scanned from her face in profile down to her body. Lying completely flat, I noted the contours of her breasts, the dip of her flat belly and the rise again of her thighs covered by the white linen sheet that shrouded her, laid from her neck to the end of her feet.

  Instantly, an imprint of her appearance etched forever in my mind as I noted the pale white skin on Shona’s unsmiling, yet peaceful face. Taken before her time, even in death, I saw how incredibly beautiful she looked, and my fears of looking at someone who’d died left me. She looked as if she were asleep, but not. And then suddenly it hit me again; my chest walls contracted, and it felt as if all the air was being sucked out of the room. Any denial I had been holding onto left me, and I saw Shona for what she was—lifeless.

  I scanned her appearance much closer, memorizing every line. There was a small dark stain at the corner of her mouth and I became fixated by it. My right hand slipped from Jeffery’s and I reached out, placing my fingertips on the window close to her hair.

  A million jumbled thoughts collided and squeezed through my mind all at once, mainly about Molly’s future, and how I would manage to care for her and work full-time. For a few seconds, I felt incapacitated by all the new legal responsibilities I had to face.

  Another huge wave of emotion swept through me and fresh tears fell. The agonizing ache in my heart was even greater than those I had felt when my parents had passed.

  Jeffery leaned in, “Do you want me to give you a minute alone, Margaret?”

  My head jerked up, and I looked at him in dismay. I didn’t. It was the last thing I wanted. In that moment I’d never felt more lonely or afraid. What good would that do? I glanced back to my sister and the sadness I felt was instantly replaced by anger and resentment… resentment she could do this to me… to Molly.

  “No. I want to leave now.”

  Jeffery gave me a thoughtful, deliberate nod, “You have to say it, Margaret. Then we can leave.”

  I stared at him, ignoring Shona’s still body on the other side of the glass. “It’s her. That’s my sister, Shona.” My voice sounded distant, detached, like someone else said it, but my heart almost broke because I had done my duty.

  Identifying Shona had felt like a pointless exercise because it wasn’t as if there had been any doubt as to who she was. She had sent all her identification to the management of Fr8Load and after all—the authorities had contacted me.

  My sister had been found unconscious in her room with her identification in her back pocket. The initial autopsy findings were death by asphyxiation. Basically, Shona had been doing what she was known for—living life to excess, regardless of her responsibility to her daughter. For Molly, whom she had abandoned to seek excitement in the first place, it was left to me to take care of my niece.

  Even as I stared at Shona in death, my i
mpatience with her festered within, and my mind wandered. For years, I had put up with everyone who knew her making excuses for her personality and personal conduct. 'A free spirit', they said by way of excusing her disregard for rules and social restraints.

  No matter what else was going on in the world, Shona always lived her life her way, often ignoring the impact of her actions on others—mostly me. Personally, I loved my sister, but I hated the selfishness of her ways.

  Any goodwill I had toward her diminished rapidly the day I arrived home from work to find Molly had been left with our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Richie. All Shona had left me was a hastily written note asking me to take care of her daughter. I had no idea she’d stoop to the new low of abandoning Molly to follow her infatuation with Noah Haxby by joining Fr8Load band’s crew as a styling assistant.

  My sister’s head had always been in the clouds and she'd spent her life chasing and stalking the celebrity lifestyle. She was obsessed with one rock star in particular—Noah. God alone knows how she managed to con her way onto his road crew, but I shouldn’t have been surprised because she’d have walked to the ends of the earth to be near that man.

  Shona was a fantasist and always spoke about the stars she loved like they were personal friends, and it was my bet she left thinking Noah would meet and fall in love with her on sight. From the couple of short emails she sent after she joined the crew, I knew she was bitterly disappointed.