Page 82 of Break Me

But the cough continued.

“What’s wrong?” Alexsey asked and for some reason, I was very surprised at hearing the level of concern in his voice.

I pushed my hands against his chest. “Shush.”

Emily coughed again, only this time it turned into wheezing. So I pushed him. Hard.

Yet he was too big. Too strong. And he didn’t budge.

“Get off me! Get. Off. Me. Now!”

Shocked, he scrambled to move and I was even quicker than he was. As soon as the weight of his body was off mine, I shoved him enough to crawl off the couch. Nothing about the move was ladylike, but I didn’t give a shit. My daughter was in trouble. I rushed down the hall, knocking my shoulder against the wall while trying to hurry.

The pain didn’t matter.

When I flew into the room, I instantly knew she was in trouble. She was limp, half her body off the bed as if she’d been trying to get to me. To her mommy. To safety and protection. Gasping, my hands were shaking so badly by the time I got to her that the moment my fingers wrapped around the inhaler, it flipped from my hands.

The crash against the wall made me cry out.

Tears were in my eyes, clouding my vision, but I noticed a huge form standing in my way of clamoring to get the inhaler.

Him.

Alexsey.

Instead of freaking out, he took a long stride toward me, very calmly placing the inhaler in my hand. “It’s okay. Breathe and take your time.”

While his deep voice was somewhat comforting, he just didn’t understand. “You don’t get it,” I said while lifting her little head, forcing the inhaler into her mouth. “She doesn’t have time. She could go into respiratory distress. That could cause permanent lung damage. Breathe, baby girl. Breathe for Mommy.”

I don’t know if he had any clue what I was really dealing with, but he seemed to sense one of the worst things that could happen was if I was freaking out. Additional agitation would make things worse.

So he pulled me onto the edge of the bed, sitting behind me and stroking my back. It had an immediate calming effect, and I was able to breathe easier.

But my special little girl wasn’t. Her coughing and wheezing only got worse until her chest was heaving.

“It’s not working. Oh, God. Oh, no.”

“Then what do we do?”

I knew he was asking me questions, but I just couldn’t comprehend or answer. I’d been through this before so why was it so difficult to deal with this time?

“Mom…my.”

I tried the inhaler one last time. Now I was freaking out. “We need to call 9-1-1.”

“That’s going to take too long,” he growled, jerking to his feet. “We’ll take her.”

“You don’t understand. Mercy Hospital is too far away. She might stop breathing by then.” I jerked up with her in my arms, fighting tears and anger, hatred and other emotions I couldn’t even name.

“Mercy Hospital? No, we’re going to Sunrise Children’s Hospital. That’s a few blocks away and I can get her there much faster than an ambulance.”

“That’s not where we go.” Why was I arguing with him? I knew why. Money. Oh, my God. What was wrong with me?

“It is now. Go get dressed. Let me hold her.”

When I hesitated even slightly, he got in my face. “Listen to me, Halle. Breathe and trust me. I’ll hold her while you get dressed.”

I was vaguely aware he had his pants on at least. I was losing it this time and I knew why. Her attacks were coming closer together.