34. Thirty Two
Thirty Two
Cecil
“WAKE UP!”
A shock scorches my nervous system, jolting me upright in bed. I feel like I’ve been electrocuted—my heart beats out of my chest, my senses on high alert. In the darkness, I scan the room. That voice… could it have been a dream? Rationale tells me yes, but I’m certain it was aloud.
My bare feet slap against the hardwood floor and I grab the gun beneath the mattress.
As soon as the safety is switched off, I’m in the hallway.
With silent steps, I check Creed’s room first. The longer I’m awake, the worse this panic sensation sinks in.
Every fiber of my being is screaming at me, but I’m met with silence. Darkness.
On the chance that Creed and Eden are asleep, I inch the door open and peek in. The foreboding multiplies by a thousand. There, beside my slumbering brother, is an outline of where Eden would have been. The blankets are thrown back, and unless she’s hiding under the bed, she’s not in this room.
I take off like a bat out of hell.
“Eden!” My scream echoes around the corridors, my footfalls frantic as I search each room.
It hits me suddenly, and as sure as anything, I know Eden isn’t in the house. A tugging in my conscience tells me so, and without taking time to second guess myself, I’m damn near ripping the front door off its hinges.
The silence outside is somehow more deafening than that of the house. The familiar chirping of early spring insects are absent, giving the grounds a sense of vacancy. Even the wind is gone, leaving the air eerily stagnant. It’s like taking a photo of the nighttime and walking into it.
There’s a prickling at the back of my neck, a warning in the air. She’s out here.
There’s still a chill to the earth, and the bottoms of my feet bear the unpleasant bite. Inexplicably, my body trudges forward, my mind taking the passenger seat. I’m called further and further into the weeds.
The gun is solid in my hand, and I pulse my fingers around it repeatedly to quell my tremble.
The bottoms of my pajama pants have grown damp from the dew, sticking to my ankles as I run through the underbrush.
I continue towards the pond, my shirt snagging repeatedly on the thicket of weeds and briars. I cuss under my breath.
“Eden!” My voice serves as a boomerang. It spins out, and then slams right back into me.
Listening for anything proves futile, as I’m met with silence in every direction. But I’m close. I can feel it.
Moth to a flame, I see her. And I swear my racing heart stops completely.
There, along the edge of the pond, is Eden, trudging into the water, illuminated by the full moon. She’s waist deep, the white of her dress stained dark from the water. I break into a sprint.
The soles of my feet are in agonizing pain, and I don’t have to look to know that they’re bleeding. The adrenaline saves me—my entire body grows numb.
It’s mere seconds before I reach the edge of the water, stopping short. Desperately, I call out her name one more time.
Not so much as a backwards glance.
“Fuck,” I snarl, dropping my handgun into the mud beside my feet. Little footprints are indented into the embankment, and I grimace.
The water is egregiously cold. Unnaturally cold. The last few minutes have been nothing but unnatural.
I keep her in my line of sight, terrified that if I look away for a moment, she’ll disappear beneath the surface. My limbs feel twice as heavy as I submerge myself in the water.
She’s up to her shoulders now, and my stomach twists. Is she lucid? She can’t be. The idea that she would willingly do this is an agony worse than the sting of freezing waters. A thought crosses my mind, but I banish it quickly.
Eden may be lost, but she would never choose to opt out.
She wouldn’t do that to m– she wouldn’t do that to Creed.
Would she?
“I’m coming,” I rasp, reassuring myself more than anything. There’s a slight chatter to my teeth, and I have to clamp my mouth shut for it to cease.
Distantly, I make out muttering. Low and raspy from disuse, I recognize her voice, but not the words.
Her movements are quicker than mine, and I don’t feel like I’m getting any closer.
In a fleeting attempt to speed up, I raise my legs and begin swimming in earnest. Tossing my head side to side, the water sluices over my face.
My wounds are mostly healed now, my stitches removed, but the murky water can’t be doing me any favors.
Wouldn’t it be just my luck if after all this, it’s an infection that takes me out?
Taking a moment to catch my breath, I search the pond.
“No!”
The top of her head disappears, leaving only ripples behind.
The muscles in my arms are on fire, but I keep pushing. Left arm, right arm, left, right.
“Please,” I beg through gritted teeth. I’m not sure who I’m pleading with. God, the universe, this forsaken fucking pond. Anything. “Please, please.”
Suddenly, movement stirs in the water, an inexplicable thrum.
A wave rolls in from behind, urging me forward.
The once stagnant pond rushes like a river, and I’m caught in the stream.
Eating up the distance in the time I could snap my fingers, I’m able to reach where she slipped beneath the water.
From above, I can’t make out her figure in the inky depths .
So, I suck in as much oxygen as my lungs will allow, and I dive down.
My arms flail wildly, attempting to locate her without sight. Seconds pass by and I’m met with algae and floating debris. The air in my lungs dwindles, but if I surface, I’ll lose her. Each bubble that I release is another warning of how close I am to running out of time.
Like a mantra, I plead in my head. If there is anything out there, help me.
Something brushes my fingers. Kicking my legs behind me, I push closer until I’m able to get a grip. My hand closes around a slender wrist, and then I’m propelling myself up, up, up, toward the glittering moonlight.
I break the surface with a gasp, sputtering as I try to fill my lungs. With what’s left of my strength, I pull Eden’s body up alongside mine. As soon as she’s above water, her arms frantically swat against the water.
Whipping her head around, thick locks of hair cling to the sides of her face, wrapping around like a serpent. The usual rosy color of her lips have gone an alarming shade of periwinkle, and her eyes are as big as the moon in the sky.
She’s confused. Panicked.
It wasn’t intentional. Thank Christ.
“You’re alright,” I coax, speaking as softly as my rapid breaths allow. The water has stilled once more, Oddly enough, it feels… warmer. A breeze rolls through, and the sound of singing insects fills the spaces left by silence. All at once, the world comes back to life.
A dark head whips back toward me, the droplets on the tips of her hair flecking into my face.
“Come on,” I urge, reaching my hand out. “Quickly.”
She blinks a few times, as if determining whether or not I’m real. Coming to her senses, she grapples for my hand. The journey out here has depleted my stamina, and I move like a newborn foal. It takes twice as long to reach the shore as it did to leave it, but once we’re on the edge, I crumble.
On my hands and knees, my back bows in an attempt to expedite the air filling my lungs. Eyes screwed shut, I can faintly hear water drops splatting the mud beside me. The need for warmth begins to outweigh my need for air, so I push myself into a kneeling position and squint into the dark.
Eden sits before me, mirroring my kneeled position. What I can see of her knees are scraped and bloody, bare. She’s wearing a white dress I’ve never seen before. It hardly fits.
We’re face to face, and her lips are turned down as she studies me.
We’re so close, I hear her chattering teeth, but she’s entirely fixated on me.
Stealing a selfish moment, I lean forward until I can rest my forehead against her shoulder.
We don’t embrace, our hands flat against the Earth, but relief washes over me. All the doom slips into the tides.
I pull back, and silver meets green. She looks devastated, but not for herself. Algae clings to her forearm as she brings her hand up, signing, “Sorry.” Her motions are on a loop, fist circling furiously against her chest. “Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry-”
I enclose her fist with my own, forcing her to a stop. I want to tell her it’s okay, but my facial muscles are tight, the cold rendering them useless.
With numb feet, it takes me a moment to stand.
“Fire,” I sign on stiff fingers.
I lead her to the house, the flash of white in my peripheral ensuring me that she’s here, and she didn’t slip from my grasp.
Content, the night hums. Everything is as it was, like nothing happened at all.
The scent of lavender soap and heat envelop me, and I’m too drained to do anything but savor it.
I might as well be boneless, for the way I melt into the couch.
Eden sits beside me, both of our feet propped up on the coffee table, warming them with the fireplace.
We’re each wearing two pairs of socks and wrapped in the king size comforter from my room.
Fortunately, she was able to bathe herself this time around, but that didn’t stop me from waiting outside the door.
Conversation has been mostly non-existent—limited to brief signs and pointed gazes.
Now that we’ve settled, I know that we need to discuss it, but it’s a very delicate line to walk.
She responds better to a caring and compassionate approach; that’s where Creed usually comes in.
I’m used to being blunt and borderline rude.
Angling towards her, our shoulders brush beneath the blanket. She shivers and steals a glance in my direction.
I can do this.
Applying my emotional training wheels, I start off simple. “Are you feeling better?”
Eden dips her chin, flicking her eyes back towards the dancing flames. The way the golden fire clashes with silver is mesmerizing. I physically shake my head to clear the thoughts, focusing instead on the beauty mark beneath her lips.