PROLOGUE - EMORY
The breeze picks up, whipping my layered reddish-brown hair in my face. Strands block my eyesight, making it difficult for me to see, but I can’t exactly lift my fingers and brush them away. Because I know if I do, I’ll lose my balance, and that…wouldn’t exactly be the best thing.
Not when the waves below rush in and crash against the jagged rocks surrounding me. They’re all over the place, climbing their way down the tall cliff behind me. A whole line of them extend out into the open sea, which is exactly how I got to where I am. They were my stepping stones, and currently, the one I’m still on acts as the floor beneath me.
I really shouldn’t be out here. It was stupid of me to trek this far—it’s the farthest I’ve ever been, but I couldn’t help myself. The water closer to shore was too muddled, too wishy-washy and sudsy thanks to the storm brewing beyond the part of the horizon I can actually see. Out here, with no buildings or anything else to obscure my line of sight, I can see for miles. In a beautiful way, it’s almost like the water stretches for the rest of eternity. Like it never ends and there’s nothing that could possibly exist on the other side of it.
In some ways, it acts as a metaphor to my life. To the distance that exists between myself and my fiancé—the man I’m beginning to regret promising a forever to.
I sigh and carefully pull my elbows into my sides. I slowly shift into a crouch, bending my knees softly as another wave rolls in and crashes against the colossal rocks. It sprays a wild amount of water on me, nearly drenching me from head to toe, but it’ll be worth it—coming out here to snap pictures of the maddened ocean. It’s almost as angry as the storm that stews inside of me.
I tell myself that I’m not doing anything wrong being where I am. I’m not the only mindless one out here. There are always tons of people who journey into the open waters when the risk of rip currents and drowning are at stellar highs. I mean, it is why the Coralhaven Township committee opted to double down on lifeguards along this stretch of the coast—because there were too many search-and-finds in this area of South Carolina over the last few years. So much so that it was starting to scare tourists away.
When another wave tumbles into the rock below me, water darting up so high that it easily clears my head, I suck in a sharp breath. There’s a tiny part of me that’s scared shitless being out here. I try not to focus on that, knowing that the images I get today will be worth their weight in gold. The studio where I sell my work will go absolutely bananas for these. There’s no doubt in my mind they’ll sell as quickly as I hand them over to Robyn, the owner.
I’ll be that much closer to making a name for myself. And if I can do that, then we won’t have to live solely on Lance’s income. Not that it’s necessarily a problem, considering the fact that he makes more than enough money as a coastal real estate agent.
The sharpness of a whistle blares, echoing out to where I am. It’s not so loud that it makes my ears ache, but it’s there justenough, alerting someone—probably me—that they shouldn’t be doing what they are. I’ve spent enough time on the beach to know it usually means someone is too far out.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter as I find solid footing and reach for my camera looped around my neck. “I’ll come back just as soon as I get what I need.”
It blows again, but I ignore it as I bring the camera up to my face. It’s an older model Sony A1 that my parents bought for me as a parting gift when they decided to move across the country for no other reason than to travel and do their own thing. Their way of trying to make their departure seem okay.
It wasn’t like it was the first time I received a random gift from them. They did it whenever they were aware enough to realize how absent they were. It was very clear our relationship dynamic was messy—mostly because I was an accident that fell into their laps that they tried to navigate, tried to love, and often failed at.
I swallow down the emotion that stems from the memory of an unstable childhood. How they showed up at the house and presented me with a small gift box as they broke the news. I still remember how I pretended to be happy for them, but later that night, I cried alone in the shower over what I was losing—or rather, what I had already lost. Grief wrapped its boney fingers around me so tightly that it was almost like I didn’t know how to breathe.
Sometimes, I still don’t, though I have managed to make a life for myself without them, which is something I cling to whenever I think of their absence.
A long string of whistles blows again, and this time, it catches me more off guard. I huff out an annoyed breath and focus on the open ocean in front of me. So many unknowns sit within it, some disastrous, and yet, there’s this beauty to it that pulls just about everyone in. Including me.
I can’t help but wonder if that’s why I’m still with Lance, despite the turmoil our relationship is currently in. Maybe I’m addicted to the gloomy nature of arguments and tension. To the heaviness that lurks nearby whenever we’re in the same room together and I’m vying for his attention, for his love and affection that he so easily gave in the beginning but doesn’t now.
I’ve tried to pinpoint what changed. How we went from being deliriously happy when he proposed to me a year ago to this sense of unease that pushes in at the thought of him. I’m not always the easiest person to work with—I can admit that—but I’ve tried my hardest to blend well into his lifestyle and get along with his family. It’s just that…it isn’t always easy when he comes from everything, and I’ve come from nothing.
I guide my camera to my eye and, just as the water rushes toward me, I press down on the button, the sound of the shutter flicking being drowned out by the waters around me.
Another swell races in behind it. I keep my camera angled toward it and capture more of the crisp beauty that will blow minds. When there’s a reprieve, I pull the camera away to check and see if I have anything worthy enough of being edited in Photoshop. I’m so wrapped up in the dark hues of blue, outlined in stark white, that I don’t see it when the next ridge forms and prepares to ambush me.
It happens so quickly. Too fast for me to react in a way that doesn’t lead to utter disaster.
My body is shoved to the side. I wobble, my feet slipping as all my body weight careens to the left. A scream shrieks out of me at the same time that damn whistle sounds again.
A second later, my body submerges into the angry waters below. I don’t sink far before an agonizing pain ripples through my right arm. I kick my legs, forcing my body to break through the surface as my lungs seek air.
Just as I get there and move to clear my eyes, salt water gushes into my mouth. I spit it out, my stomach lurching as the strong flavor washes over my tastebuds. I lift an open palm into the air, hoping and praying someone will see me. But…I’m so far out. It would takeminutesfor someone to swim to where I am.
God, what was I thinking?!
I didn’tneedthese photos.
I wanted them and now look at me.
My stomach roils at the thought, sickened into an endless loop of panic and fear.
Someone… Someone help me!
My pleas are only words in my head, entrapped by my inability to stay above the water. The storm beyond zips through the breeze and takes on the caricature of a cartoon-like hand. It hovers above my head every time it so much as grazes the surface and pushes me back down, holding me hostage, keeping me silent.
