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Prologue

When you were a kid, did you ever have competitions with your friends to see who could hold their breath the longest? You'd try to hold it for as long as you could, until your faces turned various shades of red and you felt like your lungs were going to explode.

But, once you did give in and take that first breath of air, it came with a sense of euphoria.

The cool air rushing into your lungs, giving life once again to the cells that hold you together and make you who you are, felt better than the sense of pride you got from beating your friends.

It tasted sweeter than your bragging words of victory rolling off of your tongue.

You'd take several deep breaths, pulling in as much of the sweet air as you could, relishing the feeling of the air rushing down your throat and making your lungs expand once again.

Right now, I feel like I have been holding my breath for a very, very long time, but I can't breathe in. The burn in my chest, the headache in my skull, and the panic in my brain won't go away. I feel like I'm going to pass out.

But I can't.

Passing out would bring me relief from this awful feeling, but for me there is no relief.

Not until I see Tyler again. Not until I know he is alive and well. Not until I know that I haven't failed him or broken my promises of keeping him safe.

Until I see my Baby Boy alive and well, I can't breathe.

I can't live.