Chapter 25 #3
Then I saw him.
“Mochi!” I gasped.
He was on the TV stand, hunched in his cage. He looked soaked and alert, his feathers puffed and his eyes wide.
I rushed to Hudson’s side. “Hudson, are you okay?”
My knees hit the floor next to him. His skin was cold, but I found a pulse—weak and slow.
He was alive.
Barely.
His face looked pale, and his lips were tinged with blue. Blood—dark and thick—still oozed from his shirt. He looked like he’d spilled half his life onto the floor.
Tears stung my eyes. I felt a panic so sharp, it knocked the breath out of me. It rose up and crushed my ribs.
My hand clutched Hudson’s. I leaned in close. “Hudson, where’s Daniel?” My voice cracked. “Is he . . .” I couldn’t even finish it. The word died in my throat.
I started sobbing.
Loud. Desperate.
It was one of those soul-deep sobs in which snot, tears, and spit all mix into one mess. I couldn’t stop. I bent over Hudson’s hand and cried into it like it could answer me.
“Where is he?” I whispered, shaking. “Where is Daniel?”
Did Cynthia kill him and dump him into the ocean?
Had he run for help and been swallowed by the waves?
The dogs began licking me. A few pressed close, their bodies warm against mine. They were trying to share whatever comfort they had left. I pulled the old shepherd close, cradling his head against mine, burying my face in his wet fur.
Some of the dogs whined and nudged Hudson anxiously.
If I didn’t get help, Hudson would die too.
But to get help, I’d have to walk the road back to the mainland. Through the storm. Through the dark.
I might die trying.
But at this point, what did it matter?
It wasn’t like I wanted to die, but if I didn’t make it while trying to save Hudson, I honestly didn’t care.
Daniel was gone. Probably dead in the sea.
The pain hit so hard, I screamed.
It was a guttural, broken sound that ripped straight from my chest.
The dogs flinched at first. Then they realized it wasn’t meant for them. I wasn’t angry at them.
I was breaking.
And they just sat with me.
“I’ll get help for your dad,” I promised, my voice shaking as my fingers ran through their damp fur. Then I stood and stepped back out into the storm.
I also had to get help for Cynthia.
Maybe she was badly hurt.
If she died . . . I killed her. Killed my own mother.
I didn’t even know how she was my real mom to begin with, but in my heart, I didn’t doubt it. Not even for a second.
And the man who looked like Daniel? Who the hell was he?
And the boy?
Rain whipped across my skin, and the storm tore at me from all sides. Wind slammed into my body, almost lifting me off the path. Before long, I’d reached the road. Waves were already sweeping over it in violent bursts, foaming and black, rising high enough to slap my chest and soak me through.
I didn’t stop.
I didn’t care.
I had no choice.
Daniel was most likely dead.
Hudson was dying.
And Cynthia lay bleeding in the basement.
I’d try to make it to the mainland for them. To save them.
However, with every wave that crashed over the narrow road and threatened to pull me into the sea, I started to wonder.
Maybe I wasn’t doing this for Hudson or Cynthia.
Maybe I was going out there to join Daniel.
How could I possibly make it across a mile of flooded road without being swallowed?
And even if I did get across, what kind of help would I find?
The emergency lines had already played a recording earlier, saying they were overwhelmed.
It could be hours, maybe longer—and no one would risk that road until the storm eased.
Then a wave hit harder than the rest.
It didn’t just shove me to the edge.
It threw me.
My body slammed onto the jagged rocks at the side of the road. Sharp pain tore across my arms and legs.
The saltwater burned every scratch and every raw cut that was already bleeding from earlier. My back throbbed. The wound on my head screamed.
I clawed at the rock, my nails splitting against the rough stone as I held on.
I wouldn’t let the sea take me without a fight.
I’d promised the dogs that I’d get help for their dad.
And Cynthia—she needed help too.
I didn’t want to die a murderer.
So I told Daniel that he’d have to wait, and I forced myself to move. I gripped the rock harder. Pushed upward with everything I had. When the sea pulled back, I scrambled up the edge and made it back onto the road.
As I turned, gasping, I saw it.
The lights were back on at the Breakers. The electricity was back.
But the second I took a step back, another wave surged.
This one was a monster.
It rose like a wall beside me and crashed down with a roar.
The ocean grabbed me, lifted me off my feet, and hurled me into the dark.
The force spun me, pulled me under.
Every attempt to swim felt useless. It was like I was trying to fight a rip current with broken limbs.
Lightning flashed above me, casting the Breakers in stark white light.
I hadn’t made it far at all before the sea took me. The waves dragged me under again. Longer this time.
I was back up, gasping for air.
And then under again.
The high-pitched ringing returned, sharp and full. Maybe for the last time in my life.
I didn’t fight it. Not anymore. All I could do was beg: If there was any god watching, please let this flashback be a kind one. Let me drown to something soft. Let me go with a memory that didn’t hurt. Maybe it would be when Daniel had smiled at me for the first time. In sunny Boston Common.
Water swirled around me as a vision took hold.
I was a little girl, hiding in a dresser. Peeking through the crack into the room outside. A harsh yellow light filled the space.
It was the room next to Daniel’s and mine, the one with all the photographs of women on the walls.
My room.
I knew it, without a doubt.
Out in the hallway, Cynthia and that man were screaming. Awful words.
“Bitch.”
“Whore.”
“I’ll kill you.”
Something shattered.
I curled tighter in the dark. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks. Then—
A small hand reached for mine. I looked to the side. The boy sat next to me, hidden in the same dresser. He smiled at me and gently turned my hand over, placing something into my palm.
A pig figurine.
“I got this one for your collection,” he whispered.
I smiled and wrapped my fingers around it as he wrapped his fingers around mine. Even in all that horror, I didn’t feel alone. I felt loved.
And when I looked at his face—
I knew.
I finally knew.
He was the only person who’d ever loved me without condition. He’d been with me through hell, never leaving my side.
That little boy was Daniel.