As I Live & Breathe by Cassandra Durham & Chyta Curry

Author:Cassandra Durham & Chyta Curry [Durham, Cassandra & Curry, Chyta]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Urban, Christian, United States, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 1502370298
Amazon: B00NLJHJ60
Publisher: Salt, Light and Witnesses
Published: 2014-09-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Natasha stared at the back door but saw nothing. She mindlessly wiped her hands down the front of her jeans as if they were dripping with sweat. Lifting them both, she could subconsciously feel them trembling. She shook her head to shake the fog that was once again visiting her like some long lost unsettled ghost of the past. For a moment, she was transported back in time. She listened to some of them scream and cry so long she now recognized each of the diverse sounds of the captives. Each time Natasha inhaled, she could taste and smell the pungent, musty odor of the decrepit mold infested building. She stiffened her body in the doorway in an effort to appear smaller, lesser, and more invisible. At times, the blood curdling screams would cause a visceral reaction in her core causing her to scream. The chilling voices would leap from room to room until their handlers would send someone to beat the doors until they quieted down. The one sound she hated most occurred when they carried in one of the new girls. Based on the sound of a scream, she knew who was a fighter and which one would or wouldn’t survive. The hairs on her neck stood up. She couldn’t shake the feel of his hot breath breathing on her neck. Perspiration dampened her forehead and leaked down her face. She tightly gripped the door frame. The immense weight invaded her chest and threatened to suffocate her. She felt her heart line up on the starting line. Felt it bend and stretch into position. The gun went off and her heart galloped like it was competing in the Olympic trials.

The house was cold and unnervingly still. It seemed like the walls started to close in on her. The walls moved in as the ceiling moved down. She was trapped. She was stuck. She couldn’t breathe. Inwardly, intense feelings of fear, doom, and gloom settled in her stomach. The sweat thickened on face, chest, and arms. Her mind whispered a chant; run, run, run, run, over and over coupled with a sudden urgency to escape, run away, or get out. Of what she wasn’t quite sure, all she knew was she needed to go and to go right then. She weakly unfurled her quivering hands and reached for the locked storm door. The voice in her head spoke louder, run, run, go, … Get out. She reached for the latch to unlock the door and it wouldn’t budge. She twisted it to the right and turned the knob, but no luck. She turned it to the left and tried the knob again, still no luck. She attempted to put her pointer finger on the slide mechanism to move it, but her shaking hands kept missing the slider. The voice in her head was louder still, kick it down. Kick the door down. Natasha took two steps backwards, raised her leg and gave it all she had. The storm door slammed against the door frame with a loud crack.

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