Page 34 of When Day Breaks

I keep my eyes on my toes in the sand. It's not hard to disassociate. I've been doing it since I was five. It's not a far-fetched statement to say I've matured quicker than most kids my age, but most kids aren't destined to be a blood sucking monster who is slated to take over a kingdom some day. Most kids don't have to watch their mom cry for help as she's dragged away and sworn to forget everything she loves, most kids don't have to suffer the abuse of their royal father who gets off on burning and starving his son. I am not most kids, so I sit here in the sand wishing someone would bury me in it.

That is until harsh screams meet my ears and only then do I look up to see that Natasha is desperately grabbing for Troian before crying for my attention.

I look over, Travois is missing. And that's when I look ahead of me a few feet into the water to see that my little brother is drowning.

I take off toward him, and the moment my toes burn at the sting of the cold water, I falter. I don't mean to. But the memories…

"Rivian!" Natasha yells for me, likely urging me not to go in, or maybe begging me too. I could stay back and watch Troy while she runs in after Trav, but I'm already here and I need to face the water.

I continue, one foot after the other running as quickly as I can to get to Travois. His gurgled cries sound in my heart as it beats relentlessly for the fear that my little brother might drown.

When I finally reach him, a wave pulls him under and the only thing I can think to do is to go with him. I'm not afraid of the water or of getting lost in the depths of the blue ocean, but I hate that all I can think about as I reach in is my mom.

She taught me how to swim. She played sandcastles with me as the waves crashed them down. She ran after me once as the blue waters threatened to take me with them and I hate that my siblings don't have a mother to do that for them . . . to protect them or look after them.

As I sink into the water, barely able to touch the ground, I see Trav barely kicking with all his might before I reach for him and yank him to me. It's not easy, I'm not strong and I'm worried I might lose whatever adrenaline I have right now.

I don't know how it happened, but as I hold on to him, a wave pushes us toward the shore and I'm able to stand on the bottom of the sand floor which allows me to bring us both up for air.

"Rivian!" I can hear Natasha's voice shout with worry and as I blink my eyes from the salty water's assault, someone is pulling Travois from my arms.

But then my feet are swept from under me by another wave and I am forced under.

Counting is a good distraction,I can hear my mother say.Whenever something scares you or you feel too small to fight, count. I promise you'll last longer than you believe.

Sure, my mom taught me how to swim, and though I nearly just saved my little brother on my own, that's where my experience with the ocean stops. I don't swim and I don't go near the water.

The waves start to pull me in deeper and deeper and I can't feel the ground anywhere in reach. I open my eyes, but I don't see anything so I close and open them again hoping that somewhere, light will find me. I try to swim up but go right. I try to kick my legs but my arms give out. I can't breathe, but I need to. The water rushes through my hair, through my ears, and tangles my feet and I don't know which way is up anymore.

I'm drowning.

My eyes feel hot, my heart is about to burst out of my chest, my body goes numb.

Everything screams.

But then, everything stops.

13

convalesce

Rivian

PRESENT DAY - October 26th

"Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds," she repeats.

"That's how far I counted until my brain shut off. Until the world went soundless and black." I lean against the frame between the bathroom entrance and her bedroom, arms crossed, and some layer of melancholy hinted in my tone.

Lucynda settles on the bed, a pair of leggings and a thick-knit sweater now clinging to her body as she listens to me recount the story of how I nearly died. A story derived from a memory of despair.

A tear falls down her cheek from her cloudy eyes, resembling that of the dark gray sky that now threatens to shatter with snow.

"When I woke, I was in my bed. No one was there to greet me, the sky was dark outside, and I was alone." I was nine. I speak without care about the situation now, but part of me still feels anger for that nine-year-old boy. He was let down and that was just one of many reasons that led to the man I am today.

"Rivian, I'm so sorry." Her voice cracks as empathy bleeds in her tone. But I don't want empathy or sympathy or pity or apologies. That time passed. But it's part of why I started counting when Lucynda went under water, even though her reason was far more questionable than mine was.

Call it a habit. Call it eldritch. Call it whatever you want, but she wanted to trust me that I'd save her before the water took her under and I wanted to see just how strong and willful my little sinner was.

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