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I will not crack.
I will not fall apart.
I will not crack.
This isn’t real.
My fingers tightly curl back into fists. The nails bite into my palms. I don’t bleed in dreams. There, the blood that shows is a memory, a wash of color that’s too bright, too thin. The storm ravaging inside me does not yield. Focus. Wake up.
You can’t fall apart.
They need you. Sean needs you.
Swallowing hard, I lift my hand off the table and bend it toward me. It takes effort to unclench my hand, but I don’t have to. My pale flesh is smooth over taut muscles, my fist still crushed closed. The whites of my nails vanish beneath my skin and soak in tiny baths of deep crimson liquid. Tipping my wrist forward, I watch as tiny ribbons of blood trail down my palm, snaking over my wrist and down my arm in a hot trail.
This is real.
This can’t be true. My heart slams into my chest as I struggle for air. Truth be told, I long for the days of nightmares and sinking seas. Of waking in a cold sweat, screaming, with Amber scolding me. Her curvy body perched in the window, smoke billowing from her lips as she scolds me, tells me I’m a fool. She wasn’t wrong.
She’s dead. I stiffen in my seat and glance at my hands again. Red. Each pad is inked with bright red blood. Some sensation should return, right? Why can’t I feel that? My senses are dulled in dreams, but this blood is real. I’m sure of it.
Panic rears its ugly head. What happened to the happy days on the beach? Where is Sean now? I’ve lost him. Forever. He thinks I did this terrible thing. Muddled images pour together, racing in order: sandy beach, Sean’s slick, naked body pressed to mine, the birth, the endless rows of pews at the christening, the celebrations, the towers of food at the wedding breakfast, golden sunlight drowning that wedding gown in gold, and then they came. Men in suits and boys in blue.
A man walks up the center aisle, alone. Briefcase in hand, he sits in the chair next to me. I don’t know him. There’s a hardness to him, as if he’s done horrible things and no longer cares. His spine is rebar, his expression steel. Without turning to me, he commands, “Say nothing.”
My jaw gapes open, but he repeats himself. I close it.
Clutching my hands tightly, I turn them over, and scan the red ribbons. I blink hard, trying to feel the pain. Lifting my forefinger, I press the pad of my finger into the blood. Still nothing.
The man pulls a dark red handkerchief from his designer suit pocket, and hands it to me. “Clean that up if you have any intention of getting out of here.” I wipe my hands, washing away the streaks, and holding the piece of fabric tightly in my wounded palm.
I stare blankly at nothing. Remembering last night.
The memories buzz in my head. I fail to reply to anyone, even my mother. I’m trapped in this hollow place, a prison of glass. There’s no way out. That’s when I feel it, the monster within. The darkest part of my shattered soul, the remnant that refuses to die. It breathes my name.
Avery.
At one point I beckoned this part of me, the part of my being that felt nothing, and would do anything to survive. Now that it’s found me, I shudder. The physical response is the only thing I’ve felt since they told me. The ice that wraps my heart cracks slightly as the darkness, that monster, that most disgusting version of me, shoots its poisonous thoughts through my veins. Into my mind.
Everyone has darkness within. The difference is whether they choose to fight it. If they listen to it, well, then that’s all the difference. I’m in the same spot Sean was in before he met me. Alone. I thought he’d be here. I thought Sean would come, that he’d believe me. But there’s no sight of him. Not a single Ferro.
“All rise.”
Robotically, I stand as pieces of last night slam into my mind.
My wet wedding dress clinging to my body, weighed down with water I don’t remember walking through. There’s no rain. The streets were dry. Another image illuminates before I can make sense out of the last. Dark locks were pinned to my head, elaborately decorated with tiny pearls pinned perfectly in place. Sun fills that room, but outside, less than an hour later my hair hangs in my face, dripping.
These images play on repeat, like an old DVD that continues to replay until someone presses STOP. The voluminous white silk skirts, once adorned with light lace are mashed together. The hem is torn, the lace dragging through the debris. And the bodice. That’s the worst part. There’s not a stitch of white remaining.
The entire thing is stained with blood.
CHAPTER 2
11 MONTHS EARLIER
FERRO ESTATE, CARIBBEAN
I pad down a path lined with smooth stepping stones. Indigenous flowers line the edges, jutting up from the sandy earth in plumes of blue and pink. The sounds of waves lapping the shore fills my ears, but I still can’t see the ocean as I walk out of the house.
I pass the clear blue pool that lies directly outside the floor to ceiling windows, still lit, glowing turquoise. A memory flashes in the back of my mind—black shrouded bodies and ribbons of blood. I blink it away.
The waves are deep blue, sliding in and out, against the silvery sand. The inky night to the west is shrinking back as the eastern sky blooms with shades violet and indigo.
This is my spot. This place beyond the dune, where the water meets the shore, at the end of the world. If the Earth was flat, this is where it begins. This is where the sun creeps over the horizon trickling pots of gold and amber light. The sweet scent of the night air lifts as the waves slink up closer to me, nearing my toes at the edge of the water. The tide is shifting. Soon there will be a sandbar out there covered with life.
Another wave washes in, closer to me this time, slipping over my hot pink toe nails which are buried in the sand at the edge of the water. I pulled on a pink floral string bikini before leaving the house and tied a matching sarong around my waist.
Reflecting, meditating, or whatever you want to call it, keeps me still. Pensive. Through my lashes, I watch the tide slip in closer to my spot on the sand. The world around me has a calming effect, allowing me to feel every light breeze that caresses my skin and enjoy each rustle of grass on the dunes at my back. Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs and lace my fingers together. Another day dawns. Promising a future I can’t imagine. A baby. A husband. A new life has risen from the ashes of the old one. Instead of feeling like a phoenix, I’m brimming with trepidation and my dreams are frothy with nightmares.
Dr. Chang assures me that they’ll subside, that one day I’ll sleep again. Until then, meditate, focus on the present. The hardest part is releasing the strangle-hold on my past. I feel like I’ll live the rest of my life looking backwards, unable to turn from the horrors that I endured. Another wave rolls past the reef and breaks, before spilling on the shore, stopping just before my feet. Breathe. I close my eyes and wait to feel the warm water lick my skin.
Instead, I feel Sean’s warm hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes and smile softly. The waves swallowed the sound of him approaching. The first few times he did that, I jumped a mile and sprung to my feet, ready to fight. I’m finally back to normal, realizing that it’s my lover, not a deranged killer trying to hurt me. Well, close enough to normal. The life I had before is gone. I need to accept that, but accepting it and letting it go seem to conflict in my mind. I don’t understand why. I’m not sure I ever will.
“Hey, Beautiful.” Sean leans in, kisses my cheek. Dark stubble grazes my skin as I savor the heat from his mouth. He’s wearing a pair of shorts, no shirt. The muscular definition of his upper body became more defined while we’ve been here. He’s gotten harder and I’ve gotten softer—rounder.
Sean sits down on the beach next to me, burying his fingers in the sand. He kicks out his long legs and crosses them at the ankle before turning his beautiful face toward me. “You should have woken me. I would have come out with you.”
Inhaling deeply, I lean toward him and rest my temple on his s
houlder. My hair is in a sloppy ponytail, most of which frizzed. Strands were pulled free by the wind and tickle my neck. Resting against his arm is difficult. He senses it and shifts to wrap an arm around me, tucking me to his side.
Staring at the ocean, I answer, “I thought it was better to let you sleep.”
