She's Not Breathing
RONNY’S POV
The GPS signal pulsed on my screen like a heartbeat I couldn’t catch.
Each blink was a taunt—mocking, merciless, daring me to drive faster.
The last location Liliana’s phone had pinged was buried somewhere off the main highway, a patch of dark green on the map that meant forest. My knuckles whitened around the wheel as I leaned forward, eyes fixed on the arrow of her signal, every muscle locked with a single purpose.
Hold on.
The words were a chant inside my head, matching the erratic thud of my pulse. The city lights bled away behind me as I barreled down the narrow asphalt, the night pressing in like a living thing. Trees rose on either side, black silhouettes against a moonless sky. My engine roared, tires screaming through each turn.
Then—flashes of red and blue cut through the darkness.
My stomach plummeted.
Up ahead, the road curved toward a cluster of strobing lights. Police cruisers. An ambulance. A wall of flashing urgency that made my throat close.
“No, no, no…” My voice cracked as I slammed the brakes and swerved onto the shoulder. Gravel sprayed behind me. I didn’t even kill the engine before I was out of the car, sprinting across the uneven ground.
The air smelled of burning rubber and gasoline.
Smoke curled through the night, acrid and bitter, and then I saw it.
A car.
Or what was left of one.
It was rammed nose-first into a massive oak, flames licking the hood, paint blistered from the heat. And even through the mangled metal and the dancing firelight, I knew it.
Her car.
The same car she’d driven away in this morning, her red hair catching the early sun when she had left in anger. That memory stabbed through me like a blade, so sharp it stole the breath from my lungs.
For a second I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think.
Just stood there, heart hammering with a violence that made my vision blur.
Then my body snapped back to life.
“Liliana!”
I tore toward the barricade of yellow tape and flashing lights, shoving past two uniformed officers before they could stop me. “Where is she? Where’s the woman that was in that car?”
A tall officer pivoted, blocking my path with a raised hand. His eyes narrowed. “Sir, how do you know there was a woman in the vehicle?”
The question hit me like a physical blow.
How did I know?
Because she’d called me while her world fell apart. Because I’d heard her sobs and the scream before silence swallowed her whole.
But saying it out loud felt like dragging glass through my throat.
“She’s—” My voice broke. I forced it out, raw and desperate. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Something flickered across his face—surprise, then grim understanding.
“We’re still determining if anyone was inside when it crashed,” he said carefully. “No body’s been recovered. The driver may have escaped before the fire.”
Hope flared in my chest so hard it hurt.
“Escaped?” My voice was a ragged whisper.
“It’s possible,” the officer said. “We’re searching the surrounding woods in case someone fled the scene.” He turned, gesturing sharply to a cluster of flashlights cutting through the dark trees. “Teams are already sweeping the area.”
The forest loomed like a black wall, dense and endless.
If she was in there… if she was hurt…
I didn’t wait.
I ducked under the tape and sprinted toward the tree line, ignoring the shouts behind me. Branches whipped across my face, the damp earth sucking at my boots.
“Liliana!” My voice cracked the night, hoarse and frantic. “Liliana!”
Nothing but the rustle of leaves.
My chest burned. My heart felt like it was tearing itself apart with each frantic beat. I crashed through the undergrowth, scanning every shadow, every broken branch for a sign of her.
“Liliana!”
Still nothing.
A beam of light flicked across my path as another officer joined the search, calling her name into the dark. The echo made the forest feel endless, a cruel maze swallowing every sound.
I had never known fear like this—raw, choking, merciless. It clawed at my insides, an animal gnawing at my ribs. I never knew anyone could matter this much. Not until her.
Not until now, when the thought of losing her felt like a death of my own.
My foot caught on a root and I stumbled, catching myself on a trunk slick with moss. “Liliana, please!”
A faint noise cut through the night.
I froze.
Not the wind. Not the distant hum of radios.
A sound softer, weaker.
A groan.
“Did you hear that?” I barked, spinning toward the nearest officer. His flashlight whipped to the right.
Again—a low, fragile moan.
My heart vaulted into my throat. I bolted toward the sound, branches clawing at my arms, until the beam of my own phone light caught a flash of red.
Hair.
Red hair.
“Liliana!”
I dropped to my knees beside her. She lay crumpled against a patch of damp earth, dirt streaking her face, her fiery hair tangled like a fallen flame. Her clothes were torn, mud-smeared, her lips pale.
“Liliana, hey, hey—” My hands hovered, trembling, terrified of hurting her. “It’s me. It’s Ronny. I’ve got you.”
Her eyelids fluttered, barely.
“Please,” I choked, my throat thick with panic. “Stay with me.”
I scooped her up before logic could argue, her limp weight a terrifying reminder of how close I was to losing her. She was warm but frighteningly still. My heart pounded so violently I could feel it against her ribs as I sprinted back toward the flashing lights.
“Over here!” I shouted, my voice cracking through the night. “I found her! Over here!”
Officers converged, clearing a path as I burst from the treeline. The paramedics were already running, a stretcher wheeled forward in a blur of metal and white.
“She’s barely breathing,” I gasped, lowering her onto the waiting gurney. “Please—please help her!”
The medics moved with surgical precision, checking her pulse, fitting an oxygen mask over her face. One of them looked up, sharp and businesslike.
“Is she asthmatic? Any known conditions?”
The question sliced through me.
Asthmatic?
I didn’t know.
God, how could I not know?
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out—only a strangled sound of frustration and fear. I’d spent nights memorizing the freckles on her shoulders, the way her laughter tilted when she was truly happy, but I didn’t know if she carried an inhaler.
The medic didn’t wait for an answer. “Starting O2. Let’s move.”
They pushed the gurney toward the waiting ambulance, their voices crisp and urgent. I stumbled after them, my legs numb, my heart a relentless drumbeat of terror.
“Sir, you’ll need to stay back,” an officer said, stepping in front of the doors.
“The hell I will,” I snapped, shoving past him. “I’m not leaving her.”
Inside, the ambulance smelled of antiseptic and smoke. Monitors beeped a frantic rhythm as the medics worked, attaching wires, checking vitals. Liliana’s chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I whispered, gripping the edge of the stretcher until my knuckles ached. “Don’t you dare leave me.”
One medic pressed a stethoscope to her chest, his brow furrowing. Another adjusted the mask, checking the oxygen flow.
“She’s not breathing,” one of them said sharply. “No respiratory effort.”
My world tilted.
“No—”
“Starting bag-valve ventilation,” the other ordered. “Pulse?”
“Faint. Thready.”
The words crashed over me, each one a hammer blow. Not breathing.
I felt the air leave my own lungs as if my body was trying to follow hers.
“Liliana,” I whispered, my forehead dropping to the edge of the stretcher. My voice cracked, raw and useless. “Please. Please don’t do this to me.”
The medic squeezed the bag, forcing air into her lungs, eyes locked on the monitors. The ambulance jolted as the driver gunned the engine, siren wailing into the night.
“She’s not breathing,” the medic repeated, louder now. “No spontaneous respirations!”
They kept working—compressions, oxygen, commands barked into radios—but all I could hear was that single, merciless phrase.
She’s not breathing.
Not breathing.
I clung to the stretcher, my own chest heaving as if I could breathe for her, as if sheer will could drag her back. Every prayer I’d never thought to speak tumbled from my lips, frantic and broken.
Please. Please be okay. Take me instead. Anything. Just don’t take her.
But the monitors kept screaming their flat, heartless alarms.
“She’s not breathing,” the medic said again, and this time the words felt final.
The world around me narrowed to a tunnel of sirens and flashing lights and the unbearable silence of the girl who had somehow become my entire life.
And for the first time in years, I felt truly helpless.
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