Page 33 of She Who Was Once the Sea

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I peeled my lips apart slowly. I tried to swallow once, twice, three times before realizing there was nothing there with which to wet my throat, and I simply nodded instead.

"Do you need water?"

I nodded again, bracing my hands against the cool tile to try and push myself to my feet.

"Don’t," she said, uncurling herself and jumping to her feet. "I’ll get it."

My eyes tracked her from one side of the room to the other as she padded towards the sink, and she, in turn, didn’t take her eyes off me as she walked.

She pulled a cup from the cupboard and let the water run for a few seconds before filling it to the brim. The sun hit the water at just the right angle, so that it sparkled in the crystalline glass.

I licked my cracked lips as she approached. Her hands were shaking as she held it out to me. When I reached out to take it, our fingers brushed for the briefest of moments, and she pulled away like I’d burned her.

But I couldn’t be bothered to dwell on her behavior, because I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted that glass of water. I brought it to my lips so quickly that it nearly spilled. It was gone before I even had the chance to enjoy it.

For a few seconds, I felt nothing but pure relief.

Then, I began to burn from the inside out.

Suddenly, as if from somewhere far away, I heard the glass crash to the floor and shatter. And with that came the distant sound of screaming—screaming like I’d never heard before.

And it was coming from me.

I fell back to the floor heavily, head slamming against the tile with a loud crack. My back arched. My veins bulged. I could feel the water as it traced a red-hot path down my throat, through my chest, and into my stomach, where it pooled like molten lava.

Something—someone—gripped my shoulders, prying me up from the floor. Whose fingers were they? I couldn’t remember anything but burning and pain and screaming. I’d never existed before that moment, and I didn’t see how I’d ever continue on after.

But there were words coming out of her mouth. Not words—a chant. One word repeated over and over again, like a prayer.

Not words. A name. My name. I wasn’t sure if she was whispering or screaming, but she spoke my name on a loop like she was reciting an incantation.

And then. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry."

The words blended together. Something wet hit my cheek, and with it came more pain.

"FUCK!" she shouted that time. "Garrett, I need you to open your mouth. Please, Garrett, open your mouth."

I tried to do as I was told, but my jaw wouldn’t budge. My teeth held together so tightly that I thought they might crack.

"Garrett, I know it hurts." Her voice was thick. "I know. I can make it better, but you have to open your mouth."

Her fingers came down upon my chin, sharp and unrelenting as she tried to pry my jaw apart. With what little strength I could muster, I worked with her, forcing my lips to part just enough for her to pour something between them. It was warm and sticky with a taste like salt and copper, and it slid down my throat like a salve, cooling everything it touched.

As I sipped, I felt my body relax, my muscles releasing tension one by one until I lay prone and exhausted on the floor once more.

Again, the room fell quiet except for the sound of my breaths.

Until, finally, I found my voice: "What did you do to me?" My throat felt like shredded paper. I couldn’t look at her.

For a moment, I thought she might not answer. Or that she’d simply left. But when I lifted my head up just enough to search the room, I found her sitting just a few feet away, knees once again pulled to her chest, eyes watching me like she was afraid.

I raised my eyebrows.

"I didn’t mean to," she whispered. "It was the only way."

"What was the only way?"

"To save you." Her eyes were saucers in her pale face. "I took too much, and—"