Page 55 of Blue in the Deep Blue Sea

My head plunged into the sink.

My eyes flew open, my mouth with them. I screamed, but water rushed into my lungs. Bubbles burst from either side of my mouth. My arms thrashed wildly, clawing at whoever was holding me down, but my strength slipped away with every second. My movements slowed. My eyelids grew heavy until they finally closed. Until there was nothing but darkness.

Behind my closed eyes was emptiness. The image of my nine-year-old self appeared, sitting against the wooden dining table.

It was 1991, a year after Oliver’s mother died.

Somehow, that year, Oliver and I drifted apart. He and Gianni became inseparable. Every time I asked to play with them, even something as simple as hide and seek, they brushed me off and went back to talking about cars.

Just like they had on that particular Wednesday.

They sat behind me in the living room, rolling metal cars across the floor while I was made to stay at the dining table, watching them. Cars were never for little girls. They were for boys. At least that’s what they said.

I wish I could hug her. I wish I could tell her that even though she feels like she has no one, everything will be okay. That no matter how hard she chases after them, she’ll learn to stand on her own. That she’ll soon meet Annie, and Annie will be more of a friend than Oliver ever was. He never was.

I wish I could tell her to hold on to Annie for as long as she can. To make her laugh more often. To say yes every time Annie asks her to go to the beach, because one day she’ll regret every time she said no.

But most of all, I wish I could tell her she is loved. Even though she had to grow up too fast, and even though her past is filled with hurt, her future holds a little more happiness. Even though she’s strong because her mother taught her to be with all the wrong words, she is safe.

Because the older me is watching over the little me.

Even if, somehow, she could see me…

She would probably hate who I became.

I had to hold on. I owed it to her.

***

I felt nothing.

Only that I was lying on something soft.

I opened my eyes, my vision blurred as my hand lifted to my head. I shifted carefully, my eyes widening when I caught my reflection in the large windows overlooking the endless horizon of the sea.

My heart started racing. My head still spun from whatever had happened, and I slowly pushed myself to my feet.

“Fuck,” I shouted, realizing I was in Oliver’s bedroom.

I squeezed my eyes shut, stumbling blindly across the room, trying to ignore the view and the fear crawling beneath my skin. One hand covered my eyes while the other searched along the walls for the door handle. I parted my fingers just enough to catch glimpses of where I was going, turning in the middle of the room until I finally found the door.

I hurried toward it.

The moment my hand wrapped around the handle, I realized it was locked.

I slammed both palms against the wooden door.

But no one was here to hear me.

“Let me out, you sad excuse for a man!” I shouted into the empty room. “When I see you, I swear I’ll kill you, Oliver Sinclair.”

At this point, I didn’t care whether he had tried to drown me or saved me. He had still locked me in here, alone, knowing damn well by now that I was terrified.

I leaned against the door, hugging myself as I slowly slid down until I was sitting on the wooden floor of his master suite.

“I hate you,” I whispered, burying my face in my knees.

“I hate you,” I whispered again, quieter.