God. I hope he doesn't come, because I don't deserve it. I'm stupid, and cruel, and I hate myself so much now, I'd rather die.
I thrash upward, break the surface, gag a breath. Just a second before the next wave slaps me around, rips me from the rocks, and tears me into the open ocean.
I spin into the horizon, kicking and trying to swim back,but the ocean is stronger, so much stronger, and I have no chance. The water sucks me into its open throat.
So this is it. This is how it ends.
There's almost something poetic about how this situation reflects my nightmares, but this is worse because I dragged Ben into it, and I will never forgive myself.
Much, much worse—I won't forgive myself for never telling him the truth. That I didn't mean all those things. That I was just angry, tired, and so full of heartache, I didn't know where to put it all. That once I might have had some feelings for him, even though I'm not ready to name them... but he'll never know that.
I choke through the brine and wipe the salt from my eyes, but more is coming. The water’s freezing; my body’s going into shock. I look up just as another wave comes, knowing I'm gone.
And then—impact.
A wall of heat. A massive body.
Ben.
Before I can even think, his arm wraps around my ribs, crushing me into him until I feel him everywhere and his voice rasps against my ear: "I've got you."
He's here. In the water. I touch his arm around my chest as proof and finally manage a shallow breath. The fear retreats instantly even as the water slaps and roars around us and I don't even know if he knows how to swim.
Of course, he does. He hauls us through, one arm dragging, every muscle coiled, refusing to yield even though the water fights him back. He's a fighter, with incredible strength, but Ican feel his jaw straining against my face, feel him struggling.
"Ben—" I rasp, trying to twist free so he can use both hands. "Let me—I can—"
"You're not going anywhere," he says, and his grip locks.
So much, I swear he'll break my ribs.
A gasp escapes me—more like a whimper. But I don't say anything because he came anyway, and I'd rather be crushed by him than anything else.
The water bucks us under and his fingers dig into my ribs to make sure the water doesn't drag me away again.
I swallow the panic invading my throat before he hauls us both above the surface and grunts.
Then he starts powering through the water again, his muscles coiled so much I'm afraid they'll snap.
The cliff looms ominously just as a wave smacks us forward and we tangle in the sea-spray, limbs catching.
Ouch—slamming into him hurts almost as much as hitting the rocks.
Ben shields me from the next current, his hand clawing at the rock until every tendon stands out, while the other hand pushes me upward above his head, helping me crawl out.
Another wave smacks hard into him, but he fights to stay put and with one final heave, he shoves me upward until my knees scrape the sand.
I collapse—gasping, coughing salt. My chest burns like fire; my eyes sting.
It takes me a beat for my brain to realize I'm out, so it stops panicking.
When I raise my head, Ben's there, pulling himself up beside me, soaked, jeans sticking to him like a second skin. He falls to his knees with head bowed, chest heaving.
I flop on my back, coughing out more saltwater, and flip my head to the side so I don't suffocate.
Damn... I almost drowned.
And he... he almost drowned for me.
