“…You can make more.”
We stare each other down. I think of the Wicked Woods. Of Trav.The ocean roars in my ears. I place my palm against it, stuffing it down.
“Do you miss it?” he prods. “Fishing?”
When I don’t answer, he looks down at his hands, examines them. “You belong here, Min. You always did.”
He’s right. But I left Kangaroo Bay because I didn’t want to be another ghost of a woman.
Then it happened anyway.
Didn’t it?
I rest my elbows on the table, place my head in my hands. I feel like everything I ever fought for turned out not to be worth much in the end. I left town to escape the violence. I left so I wouldn’t become another ghost floating around, silent and agreeable and scared. I had hopes I’d expose the liars and bullies and abusers, and gain my voice. But I lost it anyway. To Joy, to Oliver.
And I still haven’t found out what happened to Mum. Or Chris. I’m still wordless and broke, and the ocean keeps calling.
Heath wraps his arm around me and for a long time, we’re quiet. Then I mumble two words into his shoulder. “…How much?”
“Enough to buy your own place,” he says. “Enough to buy anything you want. Or need.”
“I need to find out what happened to Mum and Chris and why.”
“And we’ll do that,” he says. “Together. But stay.”
I want to. I do.
But for now, I get heavily to my feet, staring at the table, dazed and exhausted. I squeeze Heath’s hand as I step past, heading for my bedroom, and mutter good night under my breath.
I sit on my bed, waiting for Jessie to come trotting in. She dives on and tucks her chin on my knee. I stroke her head, thinking.
—
The ocean is screaming. It’sangry, thunderous, hungry. The water presses in around me, squeezing the air from my lungs. Drowning me. I’m lost in the depths, pulled deeper and deeper into an abyss that feels alive and hungry.
The water around me shifts. I sense it before I see it.
The shark.
Its silhouette slices through the black, cutting through the water like a blade. It’s coming for me, eyes locked on mine with unblinking hunger.
I thrust my hand out, thrash away, but it keeps coming, closer, closer.
The ocean roars again. But beneath it, something drifts up from the depths. A distant sound, just beyond my reach.
Laughter.
I thrash awake in the dark, sweating. I sit up, eyes darting around my bedroom.
How manytimeshave you watched it?
I’m missing something…There’s a clue in the video. I know it.
And in the quiet dark of my room, I finally know what it is. I snatch up my phone, but my hands are sweating so badly, I drop it on my knee.
Swearing, I wipe my palms on the sheet before grasping the phone tight, turning the volume all the way up, and replaying the video.
I watch Hannah Striker lash out, thrusting her arms to fend off the attack. I watch the horror in her eyes as the black fin rises high above her head, teeth reaching for her jaw.
