But that doesn’t mean I have to keep sitting around here while I’m bombarded with Adrian’s unbearable presence every day. I can’t do it.
I step out of bed, my chest high, not even bothering to change as I head out of my room. I exit the castle and march down to the beach.
I try to look ahead at the water, avoiding glancing down, but it’s impossible. The brown sand has always reminded me of his wild, untamed hair. A lump fills my throat.
But I continue on.
I stop at the edge of the water, the last dredges of a wave splashing against my bare toes, and the frigid cold awakens something in me.
I take my shirt and pants off, throwing them to the ground, leaving me in my undergarments. I take a step into the water, followed by another, and another.
The ice-cold water envelopes my calves, then my knees, then my thighs.
I don’t stop.
I dive in, and I begin to swim.
Swimming is a lot easier when you can command the water around you. Now, I’m working for every stroke, controlling my breathing as I glide through the cold water.
A year of drinking poison, eating everything in sight, and sitting around doing nothing has not helped me. Breathing gets harder a lot sooner than I anticipated. I glance back at the shore behind me, and for a moment, I get a taste of something I lost a long time ago. Hope. Freedom.
I float in the middle of the lapping water, feeling more at peace than I have in a long time.
But it doesn’t last.
By my estimation, I’d have to swim all day to reach the shoreline of the mainland. I can’t even see it from here.
With great reluctance, I turn around and swim back to the island before I run out of energy and drown just off the shore. If I do this again, I’ll need to gauge my energy realistically and make sure I turn around with enough energy to make it all the way back. I cannot simply go out one way until I reach exhaustion. That will mean certain death.
There’s no one out here to save me.
I sit on the beach when I return, looking out at the water I just traversed.
One day.
I can make it.
I look down, running the sand through my fingers, and a single tear falls down my cheek.
“Elysande?” A high-pitched voice calls out to me. The voice is coated with surprise. And concern.
I stand, putting my clothes back on slowly, unashamed of my curves that have softened and expanded over the year.
“You went for a swim?” Her voice still drips with shock.
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I look at Phaedra. I haven’t been unkind to her this past year, but I haven’t exactly been warm either. The two of us are both trapped here. Perhaps she’s been craving some companionship, only for me to shut her outat every turn. She looks sad, with her sunken dark eyes, pale skin, and even paler blonde hair.
She doesn’t say anything.
“Do you want to join me tomorrow?”
“W—why?”
“I’m going to swim off this island.”
