“Listen carefully, Aoki, Fennbrae, or whatever name you’re pretending to have. You’re going to help me prove my innocence, or I’ll leak everything Erin documented. Your father. Afghanistan. That motel, and the biker you’ve killed there. And believe me, I have things on McKenna too. Like, for example, the one thing his daughter doesn’t need to know.”
I nod. I don’t even know why.
My vision goes blurry, purple and teal mixing with reality. I just want to get out of this place as fast as I can.
The guard taps the table. I flinch. “It’s time.”
She leads me out. I follow.
My legs feel disconnected from the rest of me. They’re walking on autopilot while my head is all over the place.
When I pass the detector, I make the mistake of looking back. The guard from the visitation room is talking into her radio. Ahead of me, the guard at the gate lifts his own to his mouth and starts speaking too.
Sweat makes a river down my forehead.
Great. Perfect. Exactly what I needed.
When I step outside, the heat hits me straight in the face. I squint, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the sun.
I’m grateful for it. It feels like the real world again.
I walk to the Gremlin 2.0, climb in, and crank the AC to the highest setting.
My hands are shaking. I open the glove compartment, grab my meds, and take what I need, washing the pills down with a few sips from my water bottle. Then I snatch the emergency paper bag and bring it to my mouth before the hyperventilating starts again.
Fuck. This was the worst idea ever.
They both came at me before I even touched my bullet points.
Deep Diver warned me. Terrence threatened me.
What’s real? What’s a lie?
What am I supposed to do?
This didn’t happen.
None of this happened.
I was never here. I never—
I changed my mind at the door. I didn’t go inside.
That’s what happened.
Nothing happened.
Epilogue
I’ve always had a special connection with the ocean. I was born by the sea, the rush of the waves in my ears before I’d even opened my eyes.
Back in Footdee, I’d sit in the sand watching the gulls, convinced I could fly if I just tried hard enough. I must’ve run that beach a thousand times with my arms stretched wide. Stupid things you do as a kid, but those dreams kept me going.
It means that as an adult, the ocean reminds me of a time when I could feel things without thinking myself to death. And when I couldn’t remind myself of the careless days anymore, I wanted for the water to take me. Just like it took my father. Just like it took my son.
But one day, at sunset, I’d stood staring at the ocean and I heard these feather-soft words at my ear asking,
“What are you grateful for?”
