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Daniel’s already slammed his book shut and sidled up to Lucy, my words having no more effect than a mosquito buzzing in his ear. He loops his arm around her shoulder with a lazy confidence, and I see her spine lock in straight. As they start to walk away, I remember something.
“Stay away from the alcohol tonight, guys. I know it’s Full Moon and all that, but a hangover makes for a miserable dive.”
Daniel and Lucy are already halfway down the stairs, giving no indication that they’ve heard me. I hear Tamar say something to Ariel in Hebrew before heading to the toilet. I bend over and busy myself cleaning up the books and pens left on the table, conscious of Ariel lingering near the stairs.
It all happens at once.
I register the toilet door slam shut with a loud bang. I’m making a mental note to remind someone to fix it when I feel something shift in the air.
I stand upright, momentarily forgetting my efforts at cleaning up, and survey the room. It’s empty, everyone gone. Except for Ariel.
There’s a rigid intensity to him that was absent during class. His muscles are taut, and even from several steps away, I can see his breaths coming in short, rapid succession. Anxiety radiates from him.
“Ariel,” I say his name as I rush toward him, aware something is wrong. “Are you—”
But he speaks before I can finish the question.
“It is not safe here.”
His voice is guttural, scratchy, as if it’s been days since he last spoke. Which it very well could be, as I haven’t heard him talk once in all the hours we’ve been together. His words snake in through my skin, gripping my veins, sucking the moisture from my throat, and jump-starting my pulse into an erratic, urgent rhythm.
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” I say.
“It is not safe,” he repeats. “There is something wrong about this place.Youare not safe.”
Despite how quiet his voice is, his words take up all the space in the room. His gray eyes are glassy, yet they still bore holes into me.
I stare at him, unsure how to respond. His face is even paler than earlier, and his warning has sent shots of panic through my chest.
I open my mouth to say something, but another voice cuts through the room.
“Ariel!”
Tamar rushes toward us from the toilet. As soon as she’s next to Ariel, she places her palms on each side of his face, peering into his eyes. She repeats a phrase in Hebrew until I see Ariel loosen, the anxiety physically leaving him. His shoulders slump slightly, and his eyes shed their glassy sheen.
I watch as she pulls him in for a hug and his muscled frame slumps into her body. I realize Tamar must be stronger than her petite frame suggests.
Eventually, she pulls away, her voice gentle, soft enough for only Ariel to hear. As he begins to walk toward the stairs, Tamar turns to me.
“I am so sorry, Miss Cass,” she says in a hushed voice, apparentlyso that Ariel will not overhear. “My husband, he is not well.” She glances over her shoulder toward the staircase.
I want to know more, to understand that stark shift in Ariel. To comprehend the meaning of what he told me. But it’s clear that Tamar is eager to go after him. There’s a desperation in her eyes that I can’t ignore.
“It’s fine,” I say. I consider resting my hand on her arm as a reassuring gesture, but she’s gone before I can do so, already crossing the room to join her husband.
Instead, I’m left with that one word, echoing in her wake. Which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Because I’m anything but fine. Ariel’s words play in a jarring loop in my head. An ominous warning.
You are not safe.
4
BROOKE
The sun is just beginning to set as I leave my room, a simple unit in the Coral Bungalows that Frederic, the resort’s owner, begrudgingly agreed to rent out to me at the long-term rate he gives to resort staff, in exchange for a few Instagram posts advertising the resort. I start walking up the path toward the street where I park my rented motorbike when I’m stopped by a single word shouted at my back.
“Hey!”
