Into the Velvet

Fourteen Days After

Pressure. Against the back of my head, at the opening of my mouth. And then a cool puff of air. Sweet relief.

"She's wheezing again. It's working."

"That's enough, then. Go inside."

"Henry, she needs assistance!"

"I've got the police on the line. They'll be here soon."

"And the fire brigade?"

"Everyone. The whole lot of them."

It was an unusual summer night. My coat was sticking to me uncomfortably, and every breath I dragged into my lungs tasted humid. Charred. I was in the recovery position. Rolling myself onto my back, I coughed up the debris which had entered my mouth. Again, the tightening returned. My eyes popped open, throat rasping, as I woke up to another asthma attack.

Wide blues eyes met my own. Echoing my own panic.

"Here," said the shaky voice. Trembling fingers pressed a tube of plastic to my lips. "Hold it steady. How's your hand?"

I puffed and inhaled. Puffed and inhaled. The inflammation was kept at bay — but only just. I held my eyes open as I watched this woman. Her face vivid against the flickering light. Taking up the centre of my vision.

She was just as beautiful up close.

"It's you," I breathed.

She seemed startled. Inching away until she was at a safer distance — braced against her knees, alert to any danger I might pose. "I'm sorry. Have we met before?"

I swallowed. "No."

She nodded once, scanning me for signs of injury. "Okay. I can't presume to know how—or why—" she gestured vaguely behind her. "But we're going to get you some help. Can you move?"

"No." Breathing was enough of a struggle.

Her concern deepened. Creasing her forehead. "What's your name?"

"I—I don't know." I did know. I just couldn't think. Fury and envy and regret clouded my vision, like the haze of orange which surrounded us. I was too aware of her. Of how laughably unaware she was by contrast. I'd hurt her in a hundred different ways, without her knowing.

Her facial expressions were startlingly clear. She was an easy person to read; the unassuming type. Alarm widened her eyes. Raising her brows. "Do you know where you are? How you got here? Is that your car by the side of the road?"

"I'm not sure." Who was I, after all? I was the smoke that flooded my lungs. The slow asphyxiation which I was barely keeping at bay. I had no name and no place to call home. Only this destruction was truly mine.

"It's over, isn't it?" I whispered. The fight was finished. She'd won.

She met my eyes, and something inside her clicked. An understanding of the events which linked everything together. Her gaze softened. Her concern reached out with invisible hands. "Oh, no, sweetheart, you're not going to die. You just need some help. Don't we all, sometimes?"

My throat had closed up again. This wasn't how she was meant to be. I couldn't stand her kindness. I was the last person to have deserved it.

She smiled sadly. "My name is Elsie. I'm not here to hurt you. But I'd like to stay with you until the paramedics arrive. If that's okay."

"Elsie!" a voice barked, sharp and unmistakeable. "Come away."

My heart rate spiked. It was him.