Shadows hung over everything, hiding all of the happy memories I’d made in shades of gray. The shutters were closed, blocking out the view of the world outside, and where the door used to be, the wall and windows continued in one long line, erasing the exit entirely.
Somewhere far, far away, I was aware my body sank deeper into the lake. Someone followed right after me, though, diving in headfirst.
Charlie.
His strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, trying and failing to swim us both back to the surface. He couldn’t keep a solid enough form to hold on.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said to me again. He was right beside me in the lookout, now. Sadness marred his beautiful face, and a tear escaped down his cheek.
I sighed heavily. “I know. I’m sorry. I tried to hold on.”
Mom’s smile, full of laughter at something Keith had said, flitted through my thoughts. Dad’s quiet joy at spending slow days out in the forest together made the backs of my eyes burn. I thought of Bobby, laughing so hard water came out his nose.
I wasn’t able to say goodbye to any of them.
I wiped away the tears tracking down Charlie’s cheeks and the ones on my own. There was so much life we hadn’t had the chance to do, so many things we hadn’t been able to say.
I wanted so badly to give those things to him; to bring him into the land of the living. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to accomplish it.
Death was greedy, though, and in the end, stole us both.
I took his hand, needing the reminder I wasn’t alone, but instead of feeling the soft brush of his fingers against mine, the oddest thing happened.
Colors, bright as the sunsets he loved so much, glowed from our joined palms. An amalgamation of soft oranges, pinks, and purples slipped through our fingers, shining brighter and brighter the longer we held on to each other.
Back in that faraway place, someone else dove into the water above us, backlit by the beaming spotlight hovering overhead. He hooked an arm through mine and Charlie’s, who’d slipped into unconsciousness next to me, and kicked hard for the surface.
I couldn’t remember his name, but I knew he was our friend.
Somehow, we made it. Linking an arm through both of ours, he grabbed onto an inflatable floatation device and held on as we were dragged to the shore by a rope attached to the helicopter still hovering above.
“What are you doing?” Charlie asked, panicked by the unexpected phenomenon of our joined palms.
I tore my eyes away from the sight to look up at him, ready to ask the same, only to be distracted by the life I saw in his face.
I didn’t have to search for it. The blush on his cheeks was no longer a dusting, but rather a splash of color. His eyes shone clear and bright, and his lips were pink and full.
“Reece, what’s happening?” he asked again.
Awed that he could become even more beautiful than he already was, I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”
I had an idea, though.
The more alive he looked, the paler I became. Now, my hand was the see-through one. My fingers slipped through his, instead of the other way around.
“Stop it,” he growled, trying to sever our connection. “You’re giving up. Stop it!”
A second man joined the first once we reached the shore, propelling down after sending a stretcher ahead of him.
“I’ll start CPR!” my friend yelled over the deafening sound of the helicopter. “You hold pressure on the wound!”
“What about him?” the other asked, firmly pressing something against the gaping wound in my chest. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses in the dark, but for some reason, that was what I wanted to call him.
“He’s not alive, remember?”
The pressure let up for a second before returning, hard. “He has a pulse!”
“Then get a second stretcher!”
