Drew went over to the couch and poked Max. “You’re snoring.”
Max rolled over toward the back of the couch and sighed, going straight back to slumber land, if he’d even been awake for that quick interval.
Drew walked to the bathroom before another snore rent the air.
He glared at the man on the couch and reverted to his original thought. Did he own any earplugs? If not, where could he get a pair at this time of night?
Could he ask someone to deliver them? Could a person Uber that sort of thing?
Drew looked through the drawers of his bathroom vanity. No earplugs. If they weren’t in here, he didn’t think that he owned any. Even through the shut door, he could hear Max rattle off another snore.
It was going to be a long night. Drew crawled into bed and put a pillow over his head, vowing to get earplugs as soon as possible.
Bethany slowly undid her robe and let it slide from her shoulders. She folded it neatly up, setting it on the chair. The shaking of her hands belied the anxiousness she felt.
“Remember,” Holly cautioned. “The two lifeguards are here to help. I’m just going to stand on the side and encourage you. If you feel overwhelmed, you can stop at any time. You are in control of this.”
Bethany nodded, shivering. She rubbed her arms. She hated the one-piece bathing suit that she’d picked out for this. It was the first one that she’d tried on. It was the only bathing suit she currently owned, and she had no desire to own another.
Owning a bathing suit generally meant that one went swimming. In large quantities of water.
Bethany looked at the pool full of water and wished she was anywhere but here with a violence that surprised her. Despite having cleanliness habits that bordered on OCD, she had an aversion for water that was probably rooted from the nightmare that she had.
“This side is the shallow end,” Holly coaxed her. “It’s not very deep.”
The bathtub of her nightmares wasn’t deep. Bethany closed her eyes and pushed away the terror. She was sick of not knowing what had happened, why her life was different from so many other people’s. Ignoring the cramp of horror in her stomach, she hugged herself with a grip so hard she was hurting her arms where her hands clenched them. Bethany jutted her chin out and marched to the side of the pool where the steps led into the shallow water.
Breathing in short, sickly gasps she submerged one foot on the cement step. She could feel a cold sweat coming out on her skin.
“You can wait until you’re comfortable before taking the next step,” Holly advised.
Bethany closed her eyes and shook her head. She was never going to be comfortable with this. Mostly, she just wanted to get it over with. Going back, retreating, was not an option she was going to give herself. Bethany put her other foot into the water.
She didn’t let herself grab the handrail. If she did, she’d cling to it and never go in. Resolutely, she gathered her courage and quickly walked in the rest of the steps until the water covered her knees, then her thighs. Bethany stubbed her toe on the bottom of the pool, stumbled, her eyes flying open as she realized there were no more steps.
She shook so hard her teeth were clattering. Thank goodness she hadn’t fallen!
The female lifeguard was right beside her, the male lifeguard a respectful but close distance should anything happen. She focused on him.
“I wwwant hhim to dunk my hhhead,” Bethany stuttered.
“Bethany, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should get used to the water for a while,” Holly advised. “You don’t need to rush this.”
The psychiatrist didn’t understand, Bethany squeezed her eyes shut. She was NEVER getting in another pool. If she didn’t do this now, try to trigger the memories now, she never would. Then she’d never get the answers she needed to understand what had happened to her.
“Think about the nightmare. What is similar? What is different? Talk to me,” Holly said in her soothing voice.
Her feet. Her feet and legs were wet when they should be dry, she thought. Only her head, hands, arms and shoulders had gotten wet. The edge of the tub had hurt her stomach when he’d leaned her over it, pushing her head under the water. The water wasn’t clear. There was a white film on it. His hand wasn’t on her face, it was in her hair, pushing her under.
The dream was wrong about that. His hand wasn’t on her face.
Bethany snapped her eyes open. It was a memory then.
“I’ll pppay you tten thousand dollars,” she looked at the male lifeguard intently. “Dunk my hhhead for five seconds, let it up, ddddunk it again for five seconds.”
He shook his head. “Ma’am, I can’t do that.”
“Fifty thousand,” Bethany upped the bid.
