Page 54 of Out of Control

As if his weight was the barrier, I could suddenly make out the individual voices in the crowd, gawking at the spectacle.

“Oh my God, is he dead?”

“What happened?”

“Georgie, has anyone called 911 yet? Call 911!”

I tentatively let my body weight drop, relieved to feel the ground below my feet. I stood, the water falling to my waist.

My vision started to blur as the adrenaline faded and shock began to take hold my body, but I grabbed hold of Lucas’s wrist as whoever came into the water to help us dragged him toward the shore, following alongside his still form.

“Is that man breathing?”

“Is he dead? Can you see anything?” The water was down to my hips.

“What the hell were they doing?”

“I bet they were SoCal drivers from out of town. People down there can’t drive for shit.” My mid thighs.

“Idiots. I bet he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. I better not catch you without a seat belt on, James Lee Scott.” My knees.

“I know, Mom. If I didn’t get it before, I definitely get it now.” My shins.

Lucas was finally out of the water and I sunk down to my knees beside him, finally having the chance to feel for a heartbeat. I hesitated only a second, the fear of him being dead not as strong as the fear of him being dead and me not knowing.

I rested my head over his heart, arms wrapped around his waist, and held my breath.

One…Two…

His chest rose and fell. I gasped, then held my breath again.

One, two…He took another breath.

He was alive.

I let out a deep sob, feeling it rip from my chest all the way up my throat and releasing in a harsh cry.

He breathed again. Margaret Meedes wouldn’t need to lose another child.

My vision continued to swim, and the man at Lucas’ head who had helped me carry him out of the water kneeled in front of me, hands on my shoulders in a hard grip as I swayed on my knees.

The last thing I could see before everything went black was his bright green silk shirt and tattooed arms.

twenty-three

Lucas

Inever expected to survive the car crash, but it still took me a moment to feel any surprise when I became aware of my surroundings again.

The pain hit me first: intense, throbbing, and stinging at the same time, about three or four inches above my right ear, followed by a sudden heaviness in my chest and a sharp, stabbing pain with each breath I took.

My eyes flew open and I whipped my head back and forth, forcing my eyes to stay open despite the pounding in my head, but I didn’t see Athena anywhere.

I wanted to huddle in a ball and die, but I wasn’t dead and I couldn’t curl into the fetal position on the floor because I was secured—very thoroughly—to a chair. My chest was duct-taped around the slats at the back, my hands wrapped around the chair behind my back and—I shook out my wrists—handcuffed. I ignored the elephant sitting on my chest and tried to shift in my seat, but didn’t manage to move much with my anklesduct-taped together as well. Each of those were easy enough to get out of with the proper tools and right amount of time, but all together a bit more difficult, especially the cuffs behind my back.

My head was pounding, my neck aching. The heaviness in my chest and difficulty breathing meant I probably had a couple bruised or broken ribs. But if Athena was still alive, all the pains were worth it.

Where was Athena? Was she okay? Did she make it out of the water? I didn't know where she was.

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