Page 66 of Unmoored

The wake of the passing bathtub hits Dawn’s Embrace, tilting the deck gently from side to side. And with one too many drinks in my system, it’s just a little bit harder than usual to keep my balance. I stumble forward, grabbing for the railing.

“—tell you what I should have told you?—”

But I was already standing so close to the edge, drawn toward Murph’s voice like a moth to flame.

All I find underfoot is thin air. The violins shudder to a halt, but the noise picks up to a fever pitch as time seems to slow to a crawl. Voices—shouting from boats all around us, footsteps on the deck, hands almost grabbing me. But everything is a split-second too late.

I’m tumbling down. And the worst part of it all? Just as I hit the water, I hear a sound I thought I’d never have to listen to again. It’s George, on the megaphone… and he’s laughing.

In an instant, everything changes, and I can’t stop the scream that tears out of my throat.

I’m freezing cold, and my lungs are on fire, and everything hurts from trying to tread water in the freezing ocean. I’m barely staying afloat, despite kicking as fast as I can. My clothes and shoes are trying to drag me to the ocean floor, but I can’t spare a moment to try to get anything off.

Holy fuck. This can’t be happening.

But it is… and I’m terrified.

I’m fighting a losing battle against the water. I can’t catch my breath. All I can taste is salt, making me gag and over and over again. I’m wasting precious air, but I can’t stop my tongue from trying to shrivel up and crawl into the back of my throat.

People are shouting. But I can’t hear past the thunder of my own heartbeat in my ears. I keep dipping under the waves, the ocean muffling the words. It’s just more noise in a cacophony of useless noise: boat engines roaring, sharp voices yelling, and the ocean mercilessly slapping against my bare skin.

Where’s the fucking boat?It must be close. If I can just grab hold of it… or open my eyes to get a look…

I spare a moment to frantically grasp around with one hand, but all I feel is water. It slips through my fingers. slipping through my fingers. I’m trying my hardest to open my eyes to see it, or at least anticipate each wave. But it hurts too much, and for some reason I can’t force myself to do it anyway.

This isn’t fair!

If my body would let me, I’d just start sobbing right now. I spent so much of today in that stupid lifejacket, and the one moment I need it… I don’t have it on.

But even that thought slips through my fingers, too. The window of my future—not just with Murph, but any future at all—is closing rapidly. Every second counts, and some primal instinct in my body willnotgo down without a fight. It summons up reserves of energy I didn’t know about.

I’m thrashing and kicking. My face clears the surface, and I tip back my head to gulp down more air.

My chest is starting to expand?—

Fuck! No!

There’s another rush of water over my face. It’s filling my eyes, my mouth, my nose. I can barely keep control of the instinct to breathe in anymore—even with water in my mouth. I’m dipping under the waves. The world is dark, and all sound is muffled. Besides the surge of waves, that is, and the desperate heartbeat of my body trying to outrace the clock.

The ocean looked so calm from the boat—but when my face is barely above the surface, every tiny wave might as well be a storm swell.

Please! Come on!

The second my face clears the water, my burning lungs take over. I’m not in control anymore. If I breathe in a lungful of seawater, I still don’t think I can stop it. That primal part of me is desperately seeking out what it needs, and I’m in the passenger seat.

But finally, fuckingfinally, I’m sucking in blissful, sweet air. Past the salt, I can just about smell motor oil and seaweed and god knows what else?—

Another wave. I’m underwater. My lungs are screaming again. I can’t do this much longer.

I’ve never felt panic like this, more than bone-deep—soul-deep. Is this what it feels like to drown?Shit, shit shit. No. It can’t happen to me. Not right here, in front of everyone. Not so close to my boat. Not on a sunny day like this. People can’t drown in the sunshine, right?

They just can’t. I have to believe it.

Cold water hits my face. I can’t stop the gasp. I cough on salt water as my lungs burn. I choke and gag and spit it out. But I’m sinking again, and I’m not sure I can come up. My throat is raw with white-hot pain. But it’s not as bad as the regret stabbing through my chest as I fight for every bit of air I can get.

It’s all my fault, and I wish so badly that I could just rewind the clock.

How long has it been? Ten seconds? Thirty? Two minutes? I can’t tell. But I didn’t think I was in that much danger. I only meant to step outside for a second, to see what was going on. I didn’t think?—

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