Short Stories
I WANT TO LIVE
by Gretchen Farthain
“Sara.”
“Sara can you hear me.”
A strong male voice, muffled, flowed into my consciousness, as water flows into a stream from a river. They say the first sense you use when you wake up is your hearing. I stirred, and as the sense of touch overcame me, I felt strangeness about my face and tightness in my chest, and the panic began to inflict itself upon me. In that moment, my surroundings became sharper and less surreal, and I started to breathe faster. My head was pounding and every way I looked it seemed the room was a half second behind me, delaying reality.
“Sara, my name is Justin and I am a paramedic. You are in an ambulance. Do you understand? Don't speak just nod.” He spoke deliberately, his movements calm and gentle, as his sinewy limbs worked away at some kind of equipment just out of sight.
I nodded slightly as I took in his words, and as the straps pulled across my face, I realised I was wearing an oxygen mask. I tried to suck in a big breathe of air, but it fell sharply short before I could reach the peak of my breath. I tried again, faster this time with no more success. My shoulders felt like they were trying to compact into slabs of cement from the stress of unfulfilled lungs.
“Sara.”
I jolted my head back to stare at the ambo, causing an array of sharp pains across my temples.
“I need you to try and breathe as slowly and deeply as you can. Just focus on that for me. I'll do it with you.” He breathed in deep and I attempted to follow him, even though his head was moving from side to side in quick, little jerks. I'm drunk... The fight, storming out, tequila shots, the attack coming on. Flashes of the night flew
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