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The waves seem wilder now, gnawing at the shore and growing in size with a hunger that feels personal. I shut my eyes hard until all I see are grainy bits of vision.

Inhale.

The air is frosty inside my lungs.

Exhale.

Misty notices, and I hear her pad over to me. She rests her warm head against my leg. I run my fingers through her fur, and the panic unwinds into a dull ache.

“I need sleep,” I whisper, my words blurring ‌against the window pane.

When Kieran returns from wherever he keeps disappearing to, I’ll propose helping around this dilapidated beast of a house. Maybe usefulness will keep my thoughts from eating me alive. And maybe usefulness will be my ticket out of here. But first, a shower.

I shuffle into the bathroom. A clawfoot tub waits beneath the window like an abandoned altar between sea and sky. Gray water crashes against rock beyond the glass, but I force myself not to look. I need to push my way through the fear; comfort will follow.

I twist the faucet. It squeals, then releases a thin stream of scalding water. Soon steam blooms through the room, veiling the outside world.

Misty lumbers in and stations herself by the window, back turned and keeping vigilant. My little guardian.

I undress, muscles aching as if from battle, and I steady myself against the white porcelain. It’s only a bath, not the sea. I dip one foot, then the other. The water prickles as heat infuses into my muscles and bones, and I sink until warmth claims me whole. A small tremble escapes my lips as the shock of heat against cold hits me. I tilt my head back and let the steam cradle me. It’s okay, I’m alright. The sea is far below us and can do no harm.

Think of something else.

What business drags Kieran away like this? What affairs do scientists have? And even stranger, I heard no vehicle leave the premises. Although I wouldn’t with these thick stone walls.

An ache nestles itself in the middle of my forehead. What if I lose my memories again? What I have right now are memories in the making. It could happen. And from what Arik told me, the mind is fragile, and mine already feels too similar to glass cracking under pressure.

“My name is Marisa. Last name unknown, family unknown. I exist. I can see. I can hear. Gratitude fills me.” Known facts are what I continue to recite until another question arises. Why would I be in Devil’s Bay? Did this town have any significance to me? Was I from here? No. No evidence supported that; someone at the Lazarus house would have recognized me. No mention of a missing person. Of course, this could all be an elaborate secret. But this isn’t some fantastical movie. This is real life.

Reclaiming myself feels monumental, a mountain with no summit in sight. “To hell with this.” I sink beneath the water, letting the heat devour the fear coursing through me. Fear. Fear was the only thing that arrived with me intact.

Before I can register a change in consciousness, a memory erupts fast and fiercely—the water in the tub swallows me whole. Salt floods my tongue, and splitting pressure crushes my eardrums. Gone is the clawfoot tub, replaced with the sea’s shadowed jaws.

My heart pounds against my chest in uneven, frantic bursts, so fast I can scarcely register my lack of oxygen. I twist, flailing against the density of the dark sea, searching, seeking anything around me. Sight is useless; only a thin stream of light peers through dappling waves above. My body drifts downward, spindly swirls of inky black water funnel their way around my legs and slowly drag me toward a deeper dark.

I make the mistake of looking down. Through the gloom, jagged inhuman hands writhe, clawing upward and over one another in a frenzy. A scream dies in my throat as my lips are forced shut. I am a prisoner to devices beyond my understanding.

The sea funnels me towards them, placing me into the hands of grotesque figures from its depths. What the hell is this? This is not a memory.

A bright white flash, sharp as pain, slices through the scene. It fractures, bursting into a thousand tiny pieces.

Now there’s a room filled with shadows. My hands clawing at glass walls. The smell of sulfur. Dread clings to every surface, and I feel a primitive fear. My chest tightens. I gasp, but the world narrows to black. Far away, Misty barks and I hear a voice, soft but frantic. Something shakes me. Then a voice, again gentle but urgent,”Marisa, wake up!”

Wake up.

My eyes blink open. Light blurs and Daisy’s face appears above me, panic dancing behind her wide eyes. Her hands are icy on my shoulders.

“I’m here,” she says. “You sort of fainted in the bathtub.”

Misty paces behind her, whining.

Dizziness makes me shut my eyes again. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” But I already do. My mind is trying to show me something, and something else is trying to keep it hidden. It goes blank again, and I collapse against the mouth of the tub.

When I wake again, the room is quiet. Wiggling my fingers and legs brings sensation back, and I relax. Daisy sits beside the tub, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “You’re kind of heavy to lift,” she teases weakly. “You’ve been out for a few minutes.”

I give her a reassuring smile. “Misty seems more worried than I am.” I reach for a towel and step out, steam rising from my skin like a ghost shedding its body. The ache in my muscles is phantom, but my head still buzzes like last night when the man came to me in my memory.

“You should take it easy,” Daisy murmurs. “I heard you passed out last night, too.”