Salt

Fuck, I didn't have a torch. The dark was consuming, quick to eat me and fear I may never be able to leave. Still, I pursued, I couldn't go back now.

Not long after entering, my movements ceased to a minimum. I picked my feet up high, in fear of large logs or forgotten and fallen tree stalks. They crushed the leaves and sticks under me softly, sounding almost like candy wrappers. Each was crinklier than the last.

There was no sound, almost, save my rapid breath and the infrequent echo of my footsteps. A silence so deafening, I was begging for something more.

How was I supposed to find Ciara like this? Why did I just wander in, without calling emergency services? Why was I so stupid?

My heart hammered out of time with the constant thoughts that did laps around my brain. I was so hot, so ready to shed my clothes if it meant I'd find her faster. If it somehow meant that I could make any sort of difference.

"Ciara!" I screamed.

If she heard, I couldn't hear. My blood was shot, my feet were aching and I couldn't see a fucking thing, as the cherry on top. I tried distracting myself from it all, but the moment I'd congratulate on losing it, I'd be overwhelmed with it returning tenfold.

There was a flap somewhere, so I tilted in its direction, hoping for the best.

Finally, my feet stopped, when I saw the moonlight reflect like a spotlight on the lake. I'd reached some kind of bearing, I'd work my way out again from here. At least, this way I knew where I was.

The twigs crunched and snapped under my weight, reverberating in my head so loudly they could conjure an aneurysm, which was neither funny or playful. I thought I could erase it from memory by staring at the water, a landmark so beautiful, so peaceful, any other month it would bring me a strong sense of serenity.

The stream was calm, gloriously soaking in the lunar rays that I faltered.

The breath caught in my throat, right as my eyes adjusted to the addition on the shore. A bright blue bag was tangled and twisted around the neck.

It was too dark to tell, but as I approached, I just knew.

I neared the water, slowly at first, but as my bloodstream pulsed and my palms grew sweaty, I got there swiftly. In a few moments, I was kneeling, grabbing, and was facing a mother's worst fear.

The midnight glow shone upon her face, instead of tan and vibrant, now pale and bloated. Her mouth was wide open, the water dripping out it as well as her hair. It was cold, and bleak, and it trickled back to the comforting arms of its mother, anticipating a round of applause in its achievement.

"Ciara..."

Her name escaped me, shaky and inconsistent, my fingers brushing through her matted hair as I removed her bag. She didn't stir, or cough, or scream bloody murder for me to leave her alone.

Her skin was relatively still somewhat warm, momentarily crippling what I knew to be true, before I reached for my phone. Everything was draining and cold, including my shallow presses on the buttons, the tangled hair I scrunched in my other hand, the way I couldn't look at her face anymore... I had it imprinted.

The crackling in my ear intensified, grating me further, as the line began to speak more than just noise.

"Ashley, is everything alright?"

Why are you asking about me?

I swallowed the lump in my throat, the serene water stream taking me away. It started to flood my entire being, my face, until I was back to that familiar feeling.

"She's... we're by the lake. You have to come."

"Ashley–"

Hanging up, I knew the Chief would be here within the next ten minutes or so. They carried their own torches, they'd find us no problem.

While the instant wail of sirens captured my ears, the feel of my fingertips wrestling with her damp hair and skin really caught my attention. She was warm, like all people were, but this was different. She wasn't hot because her body demanded it, and her respiratory wasn't anything worth mentioning, but I wasn't ready. She'd undoubtedly be pried from my grasp, and I'd never be ready for it.

Not for this. Not for anything. And I bet that she hadn't been either.

The steady emergence of bright lights flooded where we were, dispatch upon us, taking matter into their hands. Almost literally.

I saw Mason among them all, eyes staring at us, as I was gently removed from the scene.


This was perhaps the first time I'd ever been in a police station giving a statement. I'd forgotten the lingering scent of coffee and foot odor. It crinkled my nose, as I sat on my pathetic folding chair.

The cops were all working hard, moving so fast I lost track of who was talking to me, talking to each other, or just running their mouths. Their faces made shapes, never stopped, not once ceasing movement.

Everybody was talking, but no one was actually telling me anything. These drab grey walls were crushing, I wondered if they had their own stories to elaborate. After all, they did.

I trailed my eyes to the coffee mug in front of me, steam still rising. How long had it been there?

"Okay, Ashley, I think we've got everything," Mason's smile was soft, but I didn't know anything much else about it. Was he sad? Was he angry? Did he have any inkling what was going on?

I met his eyes briefly before I saw the clock. It was after two, but I couldn't pinpoint when.

"Do you want us to call someone to pick you up?"

No hesitation, I shook my head, as a figure stepped out from the administration office. He was almost identical to the man in front of me.

"I can take her." Fletcher's expression didn't waver, as he faced his dad, who just nodded before getting up. He squeezed my shoulder as he trudged away. He should be floating right now, it had done this to him.

Standing, the steam from my coffee reminded me it was still there. It passed onto me and my eyes, moistening them.

Taking Fletcher's hand, I expected to immediately start walking, but the question in his eyes stopped me. I knew what that look meant, I bet that's how I looked when I confronted all of them in the diner that first day. I recognized the words without the voice.

I held his hand tighter, pulling him along with me.

And, even if just for a moment, it seemed as if the whole world had stopped turning. It was just us pacing these halls, it was our steady heartbeats in a space where every other living being disappeared. We powered all the energy resources, and we gave our all.

Yet, if my companion spoke, it had gone unheard. He was here, but I wasn't sure if I was.

I lost myself in the long walk, it could've been a mile since every time I looked at the door, it appeared like it had changed place. Everything was out of order, and my feet were heavy, and wrong.

This was all wrong.

How did I get here? Where do we go from here?

I winced, as the reflection of the entrance doors hit me right in my center. Three people came in, two of them holding hands just like Fletcher and I were, but the veins in their arms were prominent. They had so much more to hold onto.

One of them sprinted up to us, his beautiful and broken brown eyes frantically searching, even if there was just one he looked to. His hair was disheveled, having clearly been woken up, as supported by his creased shirt.

I blinked, wishing him away, wishing so much more than he knew.

"Ashley, what happened? Ashley. Ashley!"

Setting their typical dynamic aside, Fletcher showed his authority by addressing each of them. Maybe he maintained eye contact, but all I could see was the blur of his body as he made gestures.

Nobody said any more, I think it was the shock. They'd been rudely awakened, after all. I'd be pissed too if I had been called at this time.

"Where is she? Where's my sister?" Ambrose's jugular bobbed, his apple moving in time with his trembling lip, I could envision it cutting straight through his pale flesh.

Either unable to take being around us anymore, or growing suspicious themselves, Mr and Mrs Ford dashed for the Chief's desk, I wager. It would be a miracle if they went elsewhere.

The police station was gradually becoming colder. I'd thought it brought me out of the frost, pulled Ciara away from the banks, and smother me with hot coffee and a warm place to feel safe in. But I was frozen, not just in place, or in thought. They all bled, each blending into one. Not a single part of this world was warm, the ice was multiplying.

The three of us were stagnant, sticking where we were because, well:

Where could we go?

Fletcher was still in the middle of his speech, but I don't think he was where Ambrose wanted him to be.

From down the hall and a few corners, give or take, there was a wail. It echoed, piercing the ears of every person in the building. I was wholly aware who it belonged to, and why they screamed. There's nothing more frightening and heartbreaking than this.

And my heart broke for them, and for Ambrose. Keeping my connection with him clear, I saw an important man and amazing brother shatter.

The pieces scattered all around me, taunting my feet to come forward and get cut up.

"Tell me, Ashley."

I went to open my mouth, but Fletcher took those steps instead, hand reaching for his chest.

"No! I want Ashley to tell me, I want her to..." But he trailed off again, hands raising to lose themselves in his hair. I remembered where mine had also been at that moment. I could see the skin from her scalp under my fingernails, little beads of memory I could never forget.

She was under my skin, she was a part of my story. She'd hate that.

Ciara hated everything.

I steadied my gaze on Ambrose, internally nudging myself forward to just get on with it, provide him some sort of closure. It's what he least deserved, from all of us.

But my mouth stayed closed, perhaps for the first time in this matter.

My friend wasn't having any of it, as his large hands claimed a tight fist of my jacket, as he dragged us both to the wall. I hit it, spine searing in pain, that shot all over me, all the way into me. I was completely destroyed – but then again, so was he.

Fletcher's silhouette hadn't moved, probably because he was sure himself.

Ambrose was gone. A part of him was outside, unwilling to come in and be a role in this. He'd rented a place that wasn't here. He wasn't here, he didn't want to be.

The dark in his eyes was no longer a color, a dark shade of black or grey, it had evolved. It had been exposed to horror, to a world that was as cruel as it was beautiful. Things shouldn't have to be this hard and, in his brief effort, he considered running for his life. To leave the black in the dust, the abyss couldn't keep up no matter how much it invaded and tried time and time again. He could be better than that, he'd make his way back up from the pit.

I guess it was something to look forward to.

So, I only enveloped my hands around his, putting on the pressure until he'd scream at me to stop.

"Tell me. Tell me my sister is dead."