Chapter 14 The Moment I Knew
The Moment I Knew
Ali
Ali had barely touched her strawberry lemonade.
The beach grill was packed— students shoulder to shoulder, pressed into booths and standing around pool tables. TDE guys sporting their letters. Kappa Nu girls in maroon, navy, and white. Everyone buzzing after the bowl game win. Shark Nation had officially taken over Myrtle Beach.
She was trying. Trying to smile, trying to breathe, trying not to flinch every time Daisy’s laughter rang out from across the room.
Then the music started.
It was karaoke night, which usually meant cheesy duets or someone belting “I Will Survive” off-key. But when the opening beat of “Milkshake” dropped, Ali froze. She hated that song.
It wasn’t just the song. It was who was on stage.
Daisy and three other Kappa Nu girls with matching bows in their hair stood at the mic. And they weren’t singing the original lyrics.
They’d rewritten them.
Ali’s name in the chorus.
“Ali's milkshake brings no boys to the yard
They’re like, ‘nah, not that broad
Damn right, they’d rather starve
She could feed a whole frat with her carbs”
Jabs about her weight in every verse.
Lines about “thirst traps with no takers” and “how to land a man by crying at his feet.”
Laughter erupted. Phones came out.
Ali couldn’t breathe.
She scanned the room, wild-eyed, heart slamming in her chest. That’s when she saw him.
Dylan.
Across the room near the bar, frozen.
His eyes locked on hers.
But he didn’t move.
He didn’t stop them.
And in that split-second, something inside her shattered.
Ali turned and ran.
Out the back door, into the cold, January night. Her feet hit the pavement, one after the other, not even noticing the tears on her cheeks until they blurred the road signs. She didn’t stop until she was back at the hotel.
She grabbed her stuff. She just grabbed her keys.
And she drove.
All the way home.
Back to Honeyshore.
Ali moved through the house like a ghost. Her parents were asleep. The quiet wrapped around her like fog.
She didn’t want to die.
She just wanted the pain to stop. The humiliation. The ache that kept her chest in a vise.
The image of Daisy sneering. The sound of Dylan’s silence.
She sat on the cool bathroom tile, shaking. The bottle of anxiety meds in her hand.
She hadn’t planned this. Not really.
She just needed to sleep.
To forget.
To rest.
Tears dripped onto her wrist as she opened the bottle.
Heather Presley hadn’t slept. Not really.
She and her husband had heard the garage door open. Then the code to the alarm system beeping as someone re-armed it.
Heather had climbed out of bed and peeked out the window to see Ali’s car in the driveway. She’d waited a few minutes, figuring her daughter might need space. A bad night, maybe. She knew Ali had been off lately— quieter than usual, and harder to read.
But something had told her not to go back to sleep.
When more than fifteen minutes passed and Ali still didn’t come say hello, Heather’s gut twisted.
She slipped on a robe and padded down the hallway.
“Ali?” she called softly, tapping on her bedroom door. No answer.
The bed was made. Still untouched.
Heather checked the bathroom next.
When she opened the door, she didn’t scream.
She couldn’t.
The sound stuck in her throat.
Her baby was on the floor.
Unmoving. Pale. Her wrist resting limply across her stomach, the faded scars there like a scream she hadn’t heard soon enough.
The open pill bottle was nearby.
“Ali!” Heather dropped to her knees, hands shaking as she touched her daughter’s face. Still warm. Too warm.
Her voice cracked as she yelled for her husband. “Daniel! Call 911!”
Ali didn’t respond.
Heather gathered her into her arms, rocking gently like she did when Ali was little and had bad dreams. “Stay with me, baby. Please stay with me…”
She didn’t know what else to say.
She just held her daughter and prayed the ambulance wouldn’t be too late.