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Raven
Water is pouring over me.Warm water. Not like the water in the lake. The water that nearly took me away. The water that I almost wanted to take me away.
Let me lay here,
Deep inside the darkness,
Where I can never breathe the toxic air,
Again.
The air made of lies, pain, and agony.
The air of life.
Just let me die.
Why didn’t you let me die—
I gasp, becoming aware that I’m holding my breath as I stand underneath the waterfall of the faucet. I suck in a breath, and then another, trying to get rid of this pressure inside my chest. But it remains, squeezing and crushing, as if begging me to just stop breathing.
I thought that, after Jaxon saved me, I would be perfectly okay. I felt okay at first, but then I got in the shower, underneath the water, and it all came rushing back to me.
I can’t breathe.
I’m going to die.
Maybe I just should.
The thing is, I swear I have had those thoughts before, swear I have been in a similar situation before, when water almost swept me away from the pain forever. I’m not sure when that would have happened, though. I mean, for as long as I can remember, I have been terrified of water. I thought it was because I can’t swim, but maybe there’s a darker reason. One my parents kept from me.
Why would they do that?
I’m not sure.
I’m not sure about anything anymore.
I can’t help thinking, though, about how I keep having these images of me spending time with a younger Jax and Hunter. That makes no sense. I have never been to Honeyton before … right?
Who the fuck knows? I used to think I knew, yet I’m starting to question everything about my damn life.
Sucking in a breath, I shut off the shower then climb out.
Hunter told me there were towels in one of the cabinets, but I forgot to grab one, so I end up leaving water all over the floor as I hurry over to grab a towel.
After I dry off, I wipe up the mess from the floor then start to get dressed. I feel weird inside— lost, confused, pressurized—as I think about how, once I get dressed, I’m going to have to go out there and probably discuss how I will be moving in with the guys. Part of me doesn’t want to, not because I want to live with my aunt and uncle, but because it makes me feel like a burden. It’s something I have felt for so damn long, more than I would like to admit.
“I hate that she’s here,” I heard my aunt say the first day I moved in with them.
I was in the next room, standing there with my suitcase and a box filled with the only belongings my uncle would let me take. He had made me donate the rest of my stuff, said there wasn’t enough room in the car for it, even though he had been driving a truck.
“You know she probably killed them, right?” my aunt added, not bothering to lower her voice.
She had to have known I could hear her, and I wanted to scream at her to shut the hell up, but the words felt heavy on my tongue. Everything felt heavy.
Numb.
I had started to feel numb, as if I had bleed out with my parents in that house.
