by J. Haymore
I’m not only clamping my jaw now, but I’m grinding my teeth. I open and close my mouth, trying to relax those muscles that seem to be determined to seize up.
I’m so confused, and I hate being confused. I’m so sick of it too. I feel like I’ve been bewildered and confused since the day I boarded the Temptation. The day I met Ethan.
I fumble in my little handbag for my phone, and I text Ethan: wish u hear. some thing wrong with kiile. were steeling a boat. I love u so much. U r the beest. I squint at the message. It doesn’t look quite right, but I send it anyway.
Kyle starts the motor, and it’s loud. So loud, I can’t even hear the music coming from the Aphrodite anymore.
“Cast us off, Tara!” Kyle shouts.
“How about we just sit here and enjoy this moment?” I ask him.
He laughs. “Oh hell, no. I feel the neeeed for speeeed!”
Since I’m not moving to cast us off, he does, first releasing the line closest to him, then moving toward the line in the front that attaches the Zodiac to the Aphrodite.
“Wait for me!” another voice calls. “I’ve got it!”
I turn. Justine rushes toward us, her heeled feet splashing into the water covering the platform. I wince, because those heels are the most beautiful stilettos I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I’m sad she’s probably ruined them. Poor high heels. Maybe we can have a memorial service for them once we’re back home.
She detaches the bow line and steps gingerly into the Zodiac.
“Ha-ha!” Kyle yells maniacally. “We’re off!” He revs the motor, and we go speeding off from the Aphrodite so quickly that Justine loses her balance and sits down hard beside me on the seat at the bow. She gives Kyle a nasty look, but I’d do the same if he’d done that to me, so I can’t really blame her. “Is your ass okay?” I ask her sympathetically.
“Yes. Fine.” Her voice is clipped, and I wonder if she might’ve broken her tailbone or something. But maybe she’s just annoyed. Seems a silly thing to be annoyed about, though.
My main concern, really, is that she’s going to pop the inflatable boat with her footwear, but she almost immediately slips the heels off in favor of going barefoot. Then she heads to the stern seat in front of the motor to sit beside Kyle. Mollified, I relax, enjoying the way Kyle is slicing the dinghy through the waves, and gaze at our surroundings.
There are a few stars, though they don’t light up the sky like they did in the middle of the Pacific. The nearly full moon glows from beyond a strip of clouds, creating a mellow gray glow and just enough light that I can see Justine and Kyle and the dark shapes of the waves as we come up on them. We are heading toward an ink-black horizon, but behind us, the windows of the Aphrodite glow gold, and a few miles beyond, the lights of the California shoreline twinkle in a long expanse.
Kyle takes us in reeling loops and hairpin turns, making me laugh and squeal and grip on the edge of my seat. Behind me, Kyle whoops and hollers. Justine is quiet, but she doesn’t seem the type to shout with joy.
This is flying, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more free. I can’t even remember thinking why coming out here might be a bad idea. It’s actually perfect.
One particularly spectacular turn over the edge of a wave nearly sends me hurtling overboard, but I manage to hang on. After that, I come back down to earth and sober a little as I realize that none of us have brought PFDs, and if Kyle actually did do something stupid, we might be in trouble.
Eventually, Kyle slows down and steers in a straight line. I glance back and see that Justine has slipped her arm around Kyle, and I turn away, happy that they look happy, and happy to be in my own world and let them do their thing.
I think of Ethan and pull out my phone, pouting a little when I see no return message from him. When was the last time I heard from him? It feels like it’s been weeks.
Kyle continues to go straight, heading directly away from the Aphrodite, and I idly hope there’s enough gas in the motor to get us back to it.
But it doesn’t worry me much because it’s so amazing out here. The wind rustles through each strand of my hair and gives me a fantastic scalp rub. The cool air whispers over my arms. I remember feeling cold earlier, but I’m not at all cold now. The touch of the salty sea air on my skin is like a soothing, gentle massage.
The Zodiac flies over the waves, each crest catapulting it into the air before it crashes down on the other side. It’s exhilarating and wonderful. No theme park ride could ever match this.
I don’t know how long I sit there, zoning out on how good this feels. Maybe just a minute or maybe ten minutes. Maybe longer. I don’t know. With every wave that passes under the Zodiac, my worries dissipate a little more, until there’s nothing left but calm.
Eventually, I blink and straighten as if I just came out of a deep sleep, alone and peaceful, my body comfortable and relaxed. I stand, balancing by bracing my legs with my feet slightly apart as the Zodiac powers along, and stretch and yawn. Rubbing my aching jaw, I look back to where Justine and Kyle are sitting.
Only nobody is sitting. Justine is standing in front of the motor…and Kyle is nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Where’s Ky—”
I see in my peripheral vision the flat of an oar swinging toward the side of my head. There’s no time for me to move or duck away. The wood connects with my skull in a deafening crack, and I keel over like a ton of bricks, hitting the side of the boat. I windmill my arms so I don’t fall overboard. Instead, I collapse in a ball on the floor at the very front of the boat, Justine’s stilettos stabbing into my side.
My head. I’m sure it’s been cracked open. I have never experienced such pain. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t speak. Black spots dance in my vision, but instinct tells me that passing out right now would be a very, very, very bad idea. Through sheer force of will, I cling to that single thread of consciousness.
Even though the black spots keep swirling in my vision, I can see. My face is turned to the back of the boat. Just beyond Justine’s delicate bare feet, I see skin. Kyle’s face. He’s crumpled up in a ball just like I am, his curls framing his face in damp rivulets. His eyes are closed, and I can’t tell if he’s breathing.
He’s breathing. He has to be.
I want to run. I need to get away from here. But I can’t. I wouldn’t leave Kyle. And even if I could, there’s nowhere to go.
Justine shifts position, and the boat slows as she adjusts the throttle on the motor to the lowest speed. She takes her time about it, and without the loud buzz of the motor, my hearing becomes incredibly acute. Water sloshes against the side of the zodiac. Justine’s breaths are heavy, louder than the drone of the motor.
She moves again, coming closer and closer. I play possum, not even sure if I could move if I wanted to. Does she know I’m awake, or does she think I’m passed out? A part of me wants to talk to her, to try to understand what she’s thinking right now, but a greater part knows something is very, very wrong. Every muscle in my body tenses as she comes closer, and my heart is galloping like a herd of horses, so fast and hard it bangs against my breastbone.
I close my eyes. How could things have gone so wrong? Just minutes ago, I felt absolutely euphoric, and now… God, my head hurts so bad.
Justine looms over me, and I lie there as still as possible, but I can’t control the wild hammering of my heart.
“There now, Little Sister,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you over the side.”
My mind is too stuck on the first part of her sentence to comprehend the last part. Little Sister? How does she know I’m a little sister? What does she know about Emily?
But then, as she grabs my armpits, the second part of her sentence registers. “Over the side.”
Oh my God. This woman intends to kill me.
I force my muscles to relax as she struggles to move my body. Let her struggle. I’m not a lightweight, and she’s tiny. Let her get winded while I gather my strength. Because
I’m not going to make this easy for her.
In spite of the pain in my head and in spite of whatever I drank tonight, I feel amazingly clearheaded. She grabs me, her nails painfully digging into my flesh. But I relax. I don’t make a peep, even though every inch of me hurts right now.
She struggles and heaves until finally she has lifted my upper body partially over the side of the boat. “Jesus Christ, Little Sister,” she mutters, breathing heavily, “you weigh a fucking ton.”
I marvel at my own ability to be a deadweight, and I almost sink into strange thoughts of being a living corpse when she grips my sides and gives a mighty heave up and over the edge of the zodiac.
That’s when I fly into action. Tightening all my muscles, I stop my body from slipping over the side. I grab one of her spiked heels and fumble with it while wrenching my body from her grip. I try to push her off me with my free hand, and when that doesn’t work, I swing her stiletto straight into her back. She jerks forward, nearly knocking me down, screeching so loudly my head responds with a burst of agony.
My fingers open, and the shoe drops out of my hand, but I grab her and try to push her away. We wrestle, both of us trying to push the other overboard, and I hear bits and pieces of words and sentences, “Fucking slut,” “sister,” “never again,” and “he’s mine.”
Ethan? Oh no, he isn’t, bitch.
My jaw is clenched so hard, I’m pretty sure my teeth are cracking. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be fighting. But I am, and it’s her or me, and I can’t be passive anymore.
We stand on either side of the bench seat, wobbling madly with each imbalance of the boat and every wave that passes underneath us.
I shove at her, but she’s coming just as hard at me. She shifts, and her hands wrap around my throat, squeezing until I’m coughing and wheezing and my eyes feel like they’re popping out. I pull on her arms to try to release her hold, but she’s like steel.
So I do the only thing I can. As the next wave rolls under the Zodiac, I lean hard to the side, and we both lose our balance.
I was hoping that I’d be able to keep myself in the boat, anticipating the tilt and compensating for it. But no. Justine tumbles overboard, but she doesn’t let me go. I try to yank back, to keep my balance, but it’s impossible. I flip over the side.
We splash hard into the water, and the cold shocks my system. Icy darts attack every inch of my skin, and my body throbs with pain from my toes to the top of my head. Justine has released my throat, though, and I surge to the surface, grabbing the lifeline at the edge of the boat as I come up. As soon as my head breaks the surface, Justine swims at me, rushing like a defensive tackle. She yanks my hand from the rope and knocks the wind straight out of my chest.
I flail around, trying to find purchase, trying to grab at her. I feel cold and sober as hell and so angry that violence crawls dangerously under my skin. “Stop!” I scream at her. “Just stop it!”
But she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t respond either, or acknowledge that I made any sound. She seems to be singularly determined to kill me.
She moves in a blur, but in a split second, I get a glimpse of her expression in the milky moonlight. She reminds me of a wet rat with dark hair plastered all around her face, pointed features, and small, beady eyes that look…
She looks evil.
I push back her face, trying to get her off me, but she lunges forward again, her fist glancing off my cheek as I tilt away.
Our legs kick at each other, but mine feel like weak, heavy weights under my torso. I’m doing all I can using my legs just to stay afloat, while hers pummel my stomach and hips as I try to twist this way and that to avoid her endless kicks.
She comes at me again, and this time it’s not just her legs or her arms but her whole body swimming at me like an insistent battering ram. Her chest slams into my face while her hands press on my head, trying to push me under. She touches the spot where she hit me with the oar, and a hoarse scream tears from my throat as the pain whips through me, blackening my vision and sapping my strength.
My head dips underwater, and the scream turns into a gurgle, then a cough as I swallow a mouthful of seawater. I surge up, trying to swim and throw her off at the same time. I inhale raggedly as I come up, but she hisses, “Go down, Little Sister,” and I do as she thrusts me under again.
I fight her. I fight it. I’ve almost drowned before, and it’s the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. Not again. I don’t want this to be the way I die.
But it seems I have no choice. I don’t have the strength to fight her. I’m losing. I’m weak.
My lungs feel like they’re going to explode, but I know it’s hopeless.
I’m finished.
Ethan isn’t here. Kyle isn’t here. No one can save me.
No one can save me…but me.
I’m not the same person I was a year and a half ago when I could hardly bear to walk down the street to a convenience store without having a panic attack. I’m not the same person I was two months ago, when I walked onto a sailboat, scared out of my wits.
I’m stronger now. I’m not small, I’m not trying to hide from the world, and I’m not afraid.
I surge up, gagging out seawater even as I body-tackle Justine. Adrenaline, and with it much-needed strength, rushes through my body.
I shove her back, but she’s not going easy. She fights back with fingernails like claws that rip down my arms.
I grab her hair and yank her head back, but she flails out, clutching on to my stinging arms and ripping my hand away, still holding a big chunk of her hair. She growls savagely and comes at me yet again, but I’m ready this time. I thrust my legs out and kick her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She doubles over, her face bent down towards the water. I take advantage of her position, grabbing her and holding her under while she kicks and scratches and tries to pry my hands away.
I’m fighting for my life, so when she stops moving all of a sudden, I don’t really register it. Then, I don’t trust it. Maybe she’s going to burst out of the water and attack me again. So I don’t release her. I hold her there for several more seconds.
And then nausea surges in my gut so quickly, I have to lurch back and turn away to release the contents of my stomach. I vomit and vomit until I’m painfully dry-heaving and barely staying above water with the exertion. When I finally stop, my body shakes so hard I create my own little waves around me. I glance over at Justine. She is floating facedown, unmoving.
Then, I start to cry, and the panic takes over. This is it. I fought for my life and won, but this is how I’m going to die anyway. I’m cold. Every inch of my body hurts. I can’t see the Zodiac. Over the crests of the waves, I can see the twinkling golden lights of the Aphrodite, but they look miles away.
And…I killed someone. I killed Justine. I’m sick and hurting and I’ve never felt so physically or emotionally horrible in my life, and it’s the middle of the night, and there’s no way I’m going to make it to safety.
I close my eyes, my chest shuddering with sobs, and I remember Ethan. Counting with me through a panic attack, his voice gentle and soothing, and so warm. Ethan holding me and telling me he loves me. Ethan helping me grow strong.
Dog-paddling, I start counting inhalations and exhalations to myself like he taught me, slowing my breathing over the course of several minutes.
Finally, I’m calm enough to look around, to think about what I need to do. Far off in the distance, I can still hear the low buzz of the Zodiac’s motor. The Zodiac is the closest thing to me. And Kyle’s on it.
Kyle needs help. I need to get to him.
I start to swim.
* * * * *
I don’t know how much time has passed, how long I’ve been swimming, but I’m tired. So tired. I’ve been cold and shivering, even though swimming should have warmed me up, but now I feel warm and relaxed. Too relaxed to continue swimming. I can’t even feel my arms or legs anymore.
I just want to take a
nap, but I struggle against that feeling, trying to listen for the sound of the Zodiac’s motor. I thought it was getting louder, but now I can’t hear it at all. I’d cry again. If I had the energy.
I try to float on my back, to rest, but even that feels too tiring. I just want to find a comfortable place and position to sleep, but I can’t seem to. I’m frustrated. Longing for a soft bed, cool sheets, and a down pillow. Longing to be curled up against Ethan’s body.
My head dips underwater, and I jerk up, sputtering. Salt water tastes terrible. I blink, looking around for the lights of the Aphrodite, or the shoreline, but everything is a blur. I can only see the ocean straight in front of me, and it’s dark and forbidding.
I’m too tired to even feel scared, even though a part of me knows I should be.
My body feels so heavy.
All I want is to sleep.
* * * * *
Hands grab at me. They hurt. I open my eyes, but the lights are too bright and my lids slam shut. The cruel hands yank me out of the comfort of the water into the harsh night air. It’s windy now, and loud. I’m back in the gale while the Temptation sinks. Where’s Ethan, though? And where’s Kyle? Is he dead?
Why is it so bright if it’s night?
I try to open my eyes again, but all I see are bars. Am I in a cage?
Then, I’m being lifted out of the water. I’m so confused, and now I’m scared. What’s happening? I’m at the bottom of the cage curled up like a wet noodle, my teeth chattering, my body spasming out of control. I can’t move my limbs. They’re absolutely numb. And I don’t have a voice to scream.
It seems to go on forever. Flying, swaying, but it’s not exhilarating or fun. It’s out of control.
And then it’s over. Because Ethan is there. First I hear his voice over the incessant roar of noise. I force my eyes open again, and he’s there, his blue eyes wild as he leans over me. I try to smile, and my mouth forms the word Ethan, though no sound comes out.
The fear drains away as he lifts me out of the cage, and even though I can’t move my arms to put around him, I know I’m safe.
