13. BLUE
BLUE
There was the dream again. Falling into the sea with my eyes wide open, my hands reaching for the surface, yet all they did was drift beside me while I sank deeper and deeper.
This time, there was a shadow moving around me, circling me like prey.
Panic clawed at my chest. I screamed, but my lungs filled with salty water instead of air.
Bubbles spilled from my mouth, clouding everything around me, making it impossible to see what lurked beneath.
Then the monster attacked. It sank its teeth into my skin and dragged me further down until I was no longer me, just another thing that belonged to the sea.
A scream tore from my throat as my eyes flew open.
My sheets were damp with sweat, and my hair clung to my forehead.
I looked around, disoriented. Everything was dark.
There were no windows, so I couldn’t tell if it was day or still in the middle of the night.
Only a faint light spilled from the bunk above me.
Isabella shifted and turned in her sleep.
I sat up, glancing at the bunk across from ours, but it was empty. No one had slept there all night.
“Isa,” I whispered, checking if she was awake.
She didn’t answer.
I lay back down, crossing my fingers over my chest as if I could hold myself together.
I was scared.
A tear slipped down my temple. I was terrified there was no way out of this, that no one could hold me and tell me everything would be okay. Tell me I would be okay.
Because I couldn’t.
I couldn’t tell myself something I didn’t believe.
I wiped the tear away and turned onto my side.
This yacht was a maze built from my worst fears.
Every corner held another one waiting for me, appearing without warning, feeding on me while it slowly drained the life out of me.
And the only reason we came here had been pointless.
Dante’s brother wasn’t here, and now the map was gone too.
I wouldn’t earn anything because my mother had already taken the advance.
The only things I’d get out of this were anxiety and maybe a little more experience dealing with assholes, as if I didn’t already have enough.
There was a loud knock at the door before it swung open.
I sat up, wiping my eyes as I looked to see who it was.
Of course, it was George.
“Get ready, ladies. Your shift starts in thirty minutes,” he said.
A pillow flew straight at him. He ducked aside just in time.
“Get lost, you perv. This is a female dorm,” Isabella snapped. “I’m naked.”
He dabbed his forehead with a small white tissue, muttered something under his breath, and hurried out of the cabin.
She leaned over the edge of the top bunk, looking down at me.
“He deserved it.”
I climbed out of bed while Isabella made her way down the ladder attached to the bunk. One of her white shirts hung from the bed frame. She grabbed it and pulled it over her head.
“I don’t get what there’s left to clean,” she said. “We already finished all the cabins and the master suite.”
My stomach twisted.
“The deck?” I sat back down on the bed. “Isa, I can’t.” I swallowed hard. “They’ll find out. If I go up there, I’ll panic.”
“Okay, okay.” She held her hands just above my shoulders, as if trying to calm me without touching me. “If that happens, I’ll clean the deck, and maybe you can sneak over to the staff lockers by the kitchen and look for the map.”
I nodded.
I would do anything rather than go back up there.
Just thinking about reliving last night made my heart race.
My body still remembered the wind whipping against my skin, the sting of the salty air in my lungs.
Faint crescent marks from my nails still lined my palms where I’d dug them into my skin while clinging to myself for dear life.
This yacht was a special circle of hell, punishment for whatever I’d done wrong in my life.
I pulled my navy shirt from the locker and slipped it over my head. My hair was still tangled from yesterday. I hadn’t even had the chance to brush it or tie it into a bun. My pants were folded on the shelf. I pulled them on, tugging them up to my waist.
Turning to Isabella, I asked, “Do you think George will say anything if I don’t show up on deck?”
“I think he’ll be too busy judging me,” she said with a chuckle as she pulled on her sneakers, then hopped to her feet. “Six more days.”
“Just six more,” I said, smiling back.
Walking behind her, I pulled my hair into a bun as she headed for the door. I paused for a moment, closing it quietly behind me.
“The kitchen’s below deck, and the cook down there is Lorenzo. I think he works with Bianchi, but be careful even if he doesn’t,” she said, giving me a quick hug before heading down the hallway toward the door leading to the sun deck.
I exhaled and closed my eyes.
One long breath in through my nose.
Then I opened them again and slowly made my way toward the stairs leading below deck.
The silence comforted me. Judging by how still everything was, no one was around. After being left alone so many times, I’d grown used to it. Somewhere along the way, people had become the thing that unsettled me.
I stepped off the last stair and let my gaze wander across the kitchen.
Everything was neatly organized. Two rows of stainless-steel cabinets lined the room, and on the far wall, two round windows overlooked the aft deck.
Between the rows sat two sinks. The deeper one was filled with fresh water, ice, and red apples bobbing gently on the surface, while the other was stacked with dirty dishes waiting to be washed.
Pots rested on the stove, carrying the rich smell of something cooking, though none of the burners were on.
Only two pendant lights hanging above the center counter lit the room.
The overhead cabinets stood open, revealing stacks of plates and neatly arranged pots.
“Hello?” I called, hoping to draw someone out.
Only my own voice answered, sounding softly through the empty kitchen.
I walked over to the sink, my gaze settling on the apples. I picked one up, turning it in my hand, admiring how red and ripe it was. My eyes moved from the apple to the water in the sink.
Something moved in the reflection behind me.
I set the apple down on the cold steel surface. Just as I started to turn around, a strong hand grabbed me from behind and shoved me forward.
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.
I closed my eyes, trying to remember anything else, but all that came back were the times he had walked away from me. It didn’t even matter anymore. He was nothing to me now, just another person who happened to know someone I knew.
A long time ago, I needed him. I wanted us to be friends. In that need, he taught me I didn’t need anyone.
Funny, really, how the person I needed most was the one who taught me I didn’t need anyone at all.
It made me realize that, all this time, I could rely only on myself. I could choose the people who chose me, be friends with those who wanted to be my friends, and love those who wanted to love me. And most importantly hate those who hated me.