Blue
v
I wake up to darkness.
Dark and quiet, the muffled noise of rain and wind rushing through the trees. Everything around me is familiar, home and warmth and safety, and, though the room around me is silent, I can hear the distant sound of conversation. Blankets cover my legs and light filters in from a crack on the other side of the room, blurry and out of focus. My entire body aches, shaking with something that feels like cold and sickness. I climb from bed, pushing myself away from the warmth and comfort of the blankets. My hands fumble for the doorknob, pushing it open to reveal the light of the hallway. It swims before my eyes, tears stinging at the corner of my eyes. My body feels heavy and my movements labored, clumsy. Every footfall brings another burst of pain my chest and my lungs, burning and searing with each breath I take. My vision blurs, the stairs before me unclear and out of focus in front of me. I catch myself on the handrail and sink down to the floor, my hands shaking.
“Gemma—what are you doing out of bed?” A breathless voice says, warm hands lifting me back onto my feet. “Are you okay? Gemma, open your eyes.”
I blink and open my eyes, covering them against the light—Dad and Chris and Sam Uley, all staring at me with nervous, confused eyes. I open my mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. My lips are dry and cracked, painful; my vision is spotted black and blue, wavering between in and out of focus.
Dad gathers me in his arms and lifts me from the ground, his eyes looking sad and tired. “Gemma, you’re sick,” he whispers, his eyebrows drawn together. “You have to stay in bed. It isn’t safe for you to get out of bed yet, honey.”
“What happened?” I ask, my voice small and high, leaning my head into his chest. He brings me back to my room, turning on the light before he places me back into bed. I close my eyes and press my hands to my forehead, trying to make the pain go away.
He pulls my hands away from my eyes, sitting on the side of my bed. “You almost died,” he says and looks to the door, where Sam and Chris are standing. “The boys couldn’t find you in the water after you jumped. One of Sam’s friends was on the cliff and saw you jump—he jumped in after you and saved you. He’s been here every day since, making sure you’re alright. So has Sam.”
My eyebrows draw together. “Chris hates Sam Uley,” I mumble, frowning.
“You need to sleep,” Dad says and stands up, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t get out of bed, alright?” He flicks the light off before he leaves, closing the door behind him. My brother and Sam follow him, their voices low.
Sleep welcomes me, pulling me in and holding me. Images float through my mind like buoys on the tide—the water surging, pulling me deeper and deeper and pushing me down into the dark blue. Mom smiling and the memories of Ian’s story, the questions I had asked myself. Is that what dying feels like? I had felt like I was flying, free-floating through the water for only a split second. The waters had turned from friendly to cold without a second’s warning, pushing and pulling in every direction until something—someone—had pulled me from him. That had to have been the boy saving me. Beyond that, my mind is black and empty. The blankets that Dad has piled on top of me are weighing me down, but I can’t bring myself to move.
I drift in and out of dreams for a long while, Mom and Ian looking down on me as I swim through currents and dive under the waves. In my dreams I’m a strong swimmer. In the calm of the water, I can hear Mom’s laughter and the story that Ian told us, the words almost muffled and unintelligible. I swim farther and farther away from the shore trying to hear what he’s telling me, but he’s always just out of my reach. Beneath the waves, the silence is calm and peaceful. I move through the water quickly and easily, without thought, hearing only my own breathing and the quiet noise of the water rushing past me.
When the dream passes on and another rushes in, pulling me far beneath the water, fear edges its way into my mind. Now the waters surge around me, dangerous and black, carrying me farther and farther from my family. They reach out to me desperately, yelling things that I can’t understand. Their tears turn to blood on their cheeks, staining their skin and pooling in their hair. On a cliff above me, Chris jumps and smiles down at me. As he falls, his body goes limp and sinks beneath the water, fading into the darkness. I scream but no sounds comes out, kicking against the currents to get to him. Dad stands on the shore and waves, unaware of the waves that threaten to pull him out to sea. He fights against the water, struggling to keep his head above. Before me, Chris lies pale faced in the water.
This time beneath the waves, I am heaved and thrown. The light fades and I am surrounded by black in every direction. Shadows ebb around me, leading me further and further out into the ocean. Faces swim around me, unfamiliar and cruel. A sob shakes my body, water flooding my lungs and forcing me deeper into the water. I’m screaming—my lungs ache and my heart races at the noise of manic laughter and the rush of the current around me. Something pulls me both ways, warmth that tugs at my heartstrings and brings me to the surface, saying my name over and over again.
Dark and quiet, the muffled noise of rain and wind rushing through the trees. Everything around me is familiar, home and warmth and safety, and, though the room around me is silent, I can hear the distant sound of conversation. Blankets cover my legs and light filters in from a crack on the other side of the room, blurry and out of focus. My entire body aches, shaking with something that feels like cold and sickness. I climb from bed, pushing myself away from the warmth and comfort of the blankets. My hands fumble for the doorknob, pushing it open to reveal the light of the hallway. It swims before my eyes, tears stinging at the corner of my eyes. My body feels heavy and my movements labored, clumsy. Every footfall brings another burst of pain my chest and my lungs, burning and searing with each breath I take. My vision blurs, the stairs before me unclear and out of focus in front of me. I catch myself on the handrail and sink down to the floor, my hands shaking.
“Gemma—what are you doing out of bed?” A breathless voice says, warm hands lifting me back onto my feet. “Are you okay? Gemma, open your eyes.”
I blink and open my eyes, covering them against the light—Dad and Chris and Sam Uley, all staring at me with nervous, confused eyes. I open my mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. My lips are dry and cracked, painful; my vision is spotted black and blue, wavering between in and out of focus.
Dad gathers me in his arms and lifts me from the ground, his eyes looking sad and tired. “Gemma, you’re sick,” he whispers, his eyebrows drawn together. “You have to stay in bed. It isn’t safe for you to get out of bed yet, honey.”
“What happened?” I ask, my voice small and high, leaning my head into his chest. He brings me back to my room, turning on the light before he places me back into bed. I close my eyes and press my hands to my forehead, trying to make the pain go away.
He pulls my hands away from my eyes, sitting on the side of my bed. “You almost died,” he says and looks to the door, where Sam and Chris are standing. “The boys couldn’t find you in the water after you jumped. One of Sam’s friends was on the cliff and saw you jump—he jumped in after you and saved you. He’s been here every day since, making sure you’re alright. So has Sam.”
My eyebrows draw together. “Chris hates Sam Uley,” I mumble, frowning.
“You need to sleep,” Dad says and stands up, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t get out of bed, alright?” He flicks the light off before he leaves, closing the door behind him. My brother and Sam follow him, their voices low.
Sleep welcomes me, pulling me in and holding me. Images float through my mind like buoys on the tide—the water surging, pulling me deeper and deeper and pushing me down into the dark blue. Mom smiling and the memories of Ian’s story, the questions I had asked myself. Is that what dying feels like? I had felt like I was flying, free-floating through the water for only a split second. The waters had turned from friendly to cold without a second’s warning, pushing and pulling in every direction until something—someone—had pulled me from him. That had to have been the boy saving me. Beyond that, my mind is black and empty. The blankets that Dad has piled on top of me are weighing me down, but I can’t bring myself to move.
I drift in and out of dreams for a long while, Mom and Ian looking down on me as I swim through currents and dive under the waves. In my dreams I’m a strong swimmer. In the calm of the water, I can hear Mom’s laughter and the story that Ian told us, the words almost muffled and unintelligible. I swim farther and farther away from the shore trying to hear what he’s telling me, but he’s always just out of my reach. Beneath the waves, the silence is calm and peaceful. I move through the water quickly and easily, without thought, hearing only my own breathing and the quiet noise of the water rushing past me.
When the dream passes on and another rushes in, pulling me far beneath the water, fear edges its way into my mind. Now the waters surge around me, dangerous and black, carrying me farther and farther from my family. They reach out to me desperately, yelling things that I can’t understand. Their tears turn to blood on their cheeks, staining their skin and pooling in their hair. On a cliff above me, Chris jumps and smiles down at me. As he falls, his body goes limp and sinks beneath the water, fading into the darkness. I scream but no sounds comes out, kicking against the currents to get to him. Dad stands on the shore and waves, unaware of the waves that threaten to pull him out to sea. He fights against the water, struggling to keep his head above. Before me, Chris lies pale faced in the water.
This time beneath the waves, I am heaved and thrown. The light fades and I am surrounded by black in every direction. Shadows ebb around me, leading me further and further out into the ocean. Faces swim around me, unfamiliar and cruel. A sob shakes my body, water flooding my lungs and forcing me deeper into the water. I’m screaming—my lungs ache and my heart races at the noise of manic laughter and the rush of the current around me. Something pulls me both ways, warmth that tugs at my heartstrings and brings me to the surface, saying my name over and over again.
♠ ♠ ♠
thanks for reading!comments are appreciated.