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“I said I’m fine.”

Reaching down into her shirt, she pulls a silver flask out from between her breasts. “I’ve brought you something that might help.”

Accepting the proffered drink, I open the cap and take a sniff of what’s undoubtedly liquor, but sweet, like sugar. “What is it?”

“Rum. Have some. It’ll help take the pain away.”

With a sniff, I throw back the flask on a long swill. A burn slides down my throat, warming my chest as it makes its way to my stomach. I tip it back again.

Solange chuckles and sinks to her knees before me, wedging herself between my thighs. Running her hands up and down my legs, she smiles and licks her lips. “Such powerful legs. You play sports?”

For a second, her face blurs, and I double blink to bring her back into focus. “Lacrosse and swim.” The slur in my words is unexpected, and with a frown, I lift the flask again. “D’you spike this w’something?” Two sips of liquor would’ve hardly left me feeling this woozy so fast. At school, Jude and I did tequila shots when we played cards, and I still won eighty percent of the time.

With a devious smile, she leans forward and licks the shell of my ear. “Yes,” she whispers.

My muscles turn weak, lax, with that fireplace coziness that makes me want to lie down somewhere. I don’t even realize I’ve slid down the rock onto the sand until Solange straddles my thighs, lifting my arms above my head as she removes my shirt.

Should I be doing this? What’s happening?

Without protest, I let her undress me, as I stare up at the ceiling of the cave. There are brief moments of blackness, like a long blink. A cold sensation. Then warmth. I lift my hand to rub my eyes, surprised to find it’s already raised, and I follow the path of my limb to a pair of handcuffs that bind my wrists together, and a rope tied to an old, rusted post that used to be a ‘Danger Stay Out’ sign. It’s somehow weathered years of high tide, though the actual sign popped off a while back.

Long blink.

My muscles jerk, and I’m staring up at the rope tied to the post. I tug, but it doesn’t give.

Long blink.

A spasm rocks me awake. Something cold tickles my feet. I lift my head to find the water splashing around my legs.

Rising with the tide.

Panic freezes my veins. I tug at the rope again, to no avail.

Long blink.

Ice cold liquid crashes against my face, and I gasp, kicking myself back. The water has risen up to my chest, my legs fully submerged. Perched on a boulder off to the side is a black object that doesn’t immediately come into focus until I squint. It’s a bird. A black bird. I zero in on the missing eyeball. The bird I shot with Jude.

Its caw echoes through the cave, and a fist of salt and fury smashes against my face with an incoming wave, kicking my head to the side. The sea is rough tonight.

“Help me!” I manage to call out, the sound of my voice bouncing inside the empty cave. “Somebody help!”

The bird flies off.

Long blink.

“Tell me more about swim.” Solange kneels beside me, looking down on me, and warmth engulfs my exposed cock as she curls her hand around it. To my surprise, it feels good. So fucking good. When did she pull down my pants? I tug at the rope, but only for leverage, as I arch into her strokes.

“The water … it gets deep.” Before I can finish the thought, a wave crashes against my face again, and I shake my head, snorting the salt that shoots up into my sinuses.

“Your mother told me you had an accident as a child. You almost drowned.”

It’s true. When I was three years old, I fell into the pool. Fortunately, we had a number of staff, and someone managed to pull me out before I officially kicked the bucket. It was traumatic enough to keep me from the water for years, though, until my father demanded that I join the swim team.

Therapy, he called it.

Might’ve helped my fear of water, but it didn’t help my fear of drowning.

“The tide’s strong. We have to get out of here.” My voice is weak, and I feel my consciousness waning again, the darkness on the fringes closing in.