Chapter 5
EMORY
Everything is a deep blue.
The walls, the floor, the bedsheets.
The furniture around me takes on different shades of the color.
Harsh brushstrokes paint the ceiling in dazzling curves, imitating the irreverent lines of an endless number of waves.
A whooshing sound starts in my eardrums, quickly turning into a thumping noise that crashes against the outside wall of the room.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I quickly sit up, swinging my gaze to the windows.
It’s daylight on the other side of them, rays of sunshine slanting through the half-suddy waters that creep up Coralhaven Beach during high tide.
Only…this tide is way too high, reaching as far as the homes perched on the coast. As far as our home.
I try to get up, because we need to evacuate. Storm surges like this are deadly.
“These aren’t storm surges,” a voice comes from the corner of the room. I look over and find Lance sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. He must have brought one up to the room, but I don’t understand why. It’s not something he’s ever done before.
I glance at the door off to the side of him. “Lance, we have to go. We need to leave!”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do. The water is too high. Look.” I point at the windows, my stomach dropping when I see the glass splintered. “Oh my god.” Those same three words echo in my mind over and over.
“It’s fine,” is what he has the nerve to say.
I whip the covers off my body and try to move my legs to the side, but they don’t do a damn thing. It’s almost like my muscles are nonexistent and unworking. I look back over at Lance as waves crash into the windowpanes.
“We need to go, but I can’t get up. I need your help. Please.” My plea is a whimper that crawls up my throat. An anxious sob comes next, and a briny scent follows, entwining with every atom in the room. It makes my stomach lurch, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
I attempt moving my legs again.
They don’t fucking work!
“Lance,” I choke out. “We don’t have long. And I-I…”
“You have all the time in the world.”
“No, I don’t!” I scream at him, not understanding why he’s not doing anything. Why is he just sitting there? Why isn’t he helping me? Why isn’t he getting us to safety?
“We’re going to d-die,” I sob, hoping Lance will hear and finally comprehend the weight of our predicament. “You can’t let us die!”
“This isn’t about me,” he says, sitting there as he looks at me, a neutral expression painted on his face. “It’s about you. You’re the one who wanted this house right on the water. You’re the one who decided against hurricane proofing the windows. You’re the one who’s responsible for all of this.”
Confusion almost entrances me. I shake my head.
“Your mother wanted us to have this home,” I remind him.
“She’s the one who told you to put an offer in when it went on the market, despite it not having the necessities of a coastal property.
” She told us those were updates we could add on as time passed.
That it wasn’t that big of a deal because we were getting a house that most people only ever dreamed of.
I blink and Larissa appears, sitting in a chair next to her son, her gray-streaked hair done up in tight curls as if she’s attending a fundraiser.
She huffs, offended. “I did no such thing.”
Yes, you did, I want to say, but my brain thinks it versus my mouth speaking it.
“Everyone thinks you wanted this, you know,” Larissa coos, trying to make it sound like everything is okay when it’s clearly the opposite.
Panic swarms me, and my legs go more numb, if that’s even possible. I roll to my side and grip onto the nightstand, dragging myself out of bed, my body thudding to the ground. I pull myself two feet before the splintering of glass sounds.
“No,” I whisper to myself, my gaze settling on the windows and how each fragment makes up a beautiful masterpiece that will inevitably also be the thing that ends me. “Please, no.”
My pleas fall on deaf ears, and I stop asking Lance and Larissa for assistance. Suddenly, they both appear in front of me, crouched down so they can look me in my eyes.
“Just admit it,” Larissa says, her eyes nearly the same shade as Lance’s, only a little bit darker. “You never wanted this life.”
“What?” I don’t know why she’s saying that.
“She’s right,” Lance adds. “You didn’t want this. But that out there…” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “You brought that on yourself.”
“No, I didn’t!” I shout at him. “Why are you being like this? Why are you saying such mean things? Why can’t you just love me unconditionally without anything else getting in the way?”
“Because everyone knows you wanted this.” His response doesn’t exactly make sense to me. I squeeze my eyes shut, emotion palming my heart and squeezing. It shatters at the same time the windows do, a final crashing of waves collapsing them inward.
Water rushes in, taking over the entire floor. The same one I’m lying on.
“No,” I mutter as seawater charges over my entire body. I spurt out a mouthful of it. “Please, Lance. Help me!”
“If you want help, you’re going to have to find it yourself,” he says before standing and walking away. I watch as he and Larissa vanish into thin air. Tears track my eyes, salt blending with salt. Garbled screams leave me as I beg for someone to save me.
I suck in air, attempting to drink in the last little bit of available oxygen. Too soon, the rolling waves of water come in over the windowsills, covering my body and filling my lungs.
My body jolts awake, and I gasp.
My mind is slightly disoriented, which makes it difficult to catalogue my surroundings, but eventually, I recognize the bedroom around me. My eyes dart to the windows, but it’s dark and the curtains shade them, keeping the moonlight from spilling in through the white-wood blinds.
My chest rises and falls in quick succession, and I smooth my hands over the top comforter. I also move my legs and wiggle my toes, thankful I can actually feel them. Thank god. I pull myself up and rest back on the headboard, my eyes wide and huge as they adjust to the black room.
It was just a nightmare.
It wasn’t real.
Lance’s soft snoring comes from beside me, slow puffs of air inhaling and exhaling through his nose. He wasn’t there when I came to bed, which means he must’ve come in late.
I ignore the pang that causes and try to move on from the nightmare I just had, settling on how helpless I felt. How I was a victim of the ocean again. A sickening feeling plops in my gut when Larissa and Lance’s voices—and their unfiltered accusations—echo in my mind.
My stomach twists, lurching like a rollercoaster going full speed only to stop and go just as fast backwards. Eventually, I can’t take it anymore and walk into the en suite bathroom.
“Oh god,” I murmur to myself, already tasting the bile at the back of my throat. I retch a second later, gagging on stomach acid and disposing of it in the toilet. When I’m done, and feeling better, I flush, rinse with mouthwash, and head back to bed.
I don’t suspect I’ll be sleeping any time soon, though. Not with my dream so fresh in my mind, that sensation of fear heavy and all-consuming as it sits on my chest and doesn’t move.
When I climb back into bed, I accidentally disturb Lance from sleep. He shuffles, turning to face me, eyes squinting against the reality of being awake. “Emory?”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
His voice is rough with sleep. “Why are you up?”
“I had to go pee,” I lie.
The last thing I need to talk to him about is being woken up from a nightmare that forced the contents of my stomach out of me.
He wouldn’t understand.
But you know someone who would.
Dr. Cole’s face appears in my mind—strong jaw, curly brown hair, kind eyes—and I desperately want to reach for it all while knowing I can’t.
“Okay…” he trails off, almost like he doesn’t entirely believe me. “Well, go back to bed.”
“Yeah,” my voice is low, “I am.”
It’s another lie, but it’s the quickest way to get him back to sleep.
As suspected, he rolls over a second later, his back to me. He adjusts his pillow, and in less than a minute, those snores act as a quiet lullaby as I lie back and stare at the ceiling. I try to fall asleep, but all I can imagine are golden eyes the exact same shade as my therapist’s.