THEO
I sit boltupright in a cold sweat, gasping for air, digging my nails into the puckered scars that circle my ankles. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, waiting for my heart to stop trying to punch its way out of my chest. The room is dark, and I already know without having to look that I’m up way too early. I wipe tears from my face with the back of my hand and reach for my phone. Squinting, I read a text from my cousin.
Isla
Theo, remember Richard’s family are coming up for the wedding, and you promised they could stay at yours.
I groan, pulling the duvet back, and roll out of bed. I had, in fact,notremembered agreeing to let her fiancé’s family stay in my house. It’s hard enough trying to remember what day it is, let alone keep track of Isla’s wedding guests. I slide my suitcase outfrom the top of the wardrobe and shove as much as I can into it. When I try to zip it up, my hands shake and my vision doubles as brain fog sets in. I fumble the zip, and kick the suitcase with my bare foot.
“Shit!” Pain shoots through my toe and up to my ankle.
Fuck, that was stupid.
I collapse back onto the bed, toe throbbing. The world spins for a moment, and I wait for it to pass before rolling to the side and dragging my body off the bed for the second time this morning. I grab the zipper and try again, tugging it roughly until it closes, then head to the harbour.
The day has barely started and I’ve already had enough.
“There’s the boss man!”Harry shouts as I get out of my car. I grab my sunglasses and give an awkward wave as I walk across the harbour to her.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
She flashes me a grin. “Yep.”
We walk along the gangway and onto the boat, where I mutter “good morning” to the crew. Harry is chatting away excitedly next to me, saying something about a date in Portree tonight, but I can’t focus. My head is gone. The nightmare lingers, and I feel ropes tightening around my ankles with every step I take.
The boat slowly drifts away from the dock, and we grab our diving gear from the lockers. Harry nudges me with her elbow as she finishes putting her arms into her drysuit. “All good?”
I hum in agreement, hoping that will be the end of it, but there’s concern in her eyes. I put my hands on her shoulders and spin her around, checking that her fastenings are secure and the dry suit is fully zipped. “Yeah, I’m all good.”
We sit on the edge of the boat while waiting to arrive at the diving grounds, and I take a moment to push all the anxiety that’s been building up inside of me down.Waydown. I check my umbilical cord, fix my mask and pick up my net before the skipper yells out our approach. The boat crawls to a stop and I give Harry a nod. Together we roll backwards into the frigid water.
My body calms as the pressure of the drysuit tightens against my calves and thighs. I click on the torch and kick my feet harder, pushing myself down to the seabed until I find the scallops. Reaching out, I grab one, placing it in my bag, pausing as bubbles drift past my mask. I float in the darkness, feeling it press in on me, hating that I feel safer here than in my own home.
Nothing can reach me here, not even my nightmares.
Heat washesover me as the old wooden door to the pub swings open. I tilt my head to avoid bumping it on the low beams. Once inside, I scan the room.
“Theo!” a deep voice bellows.
My head snaps towards my best friend, who’s waving at me a little too enthusiastically from a corner booth. I quickly make my way over to him, nodding to the locals as I pass by. I can feel my cheeks burning under their collective gaze.
“Did you have to do that? It’s not like I wouldn’t have seen you.”
Robbie grins, pulling a hairband off his wrist and placing it between his teeth as he gathers his dark hair up. “How’s diving been this week? Rain's finally staying away.”
“Good enough. I’m bloody knackered; we’ve gone out every day this week. Harry’s going to be showing me up in no time.”
He fixes the band around his unruly curls into a bun, exposing braids running along the sides of his head. “How’s she getting on?”
“Fine,” I say as he drains his lager then wipes the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. I screw up my nose when he licks it off. “She’s got more energy than the two of us. Said something about going on a date tonight.”
“I have plenty of energy, thanks. I’m only thirty-two, basically in my prime,” Robbie says, sitting up straighter.
He’s right; somehow he has the energy of a five-year-old who snorted sherbert.
“She called me an old man earlier,” I say, “because I didn’t know what some new game was. Like I have time to keep up with that these days.”
“What was the game—? Wait. What the hell does she meanold man?” Robbie splutters. “Do twenty-year-olds think we’re old?”
