17
CONNOR
I woke abruptly, at first unsure where I was. I sat up in the darkness, gasping, struggling to catch my breath. I was shaking uncontrollably.
It was the dream. Again.
I’d had it countless times over the past fifteen years. The first time was when I was fifteen. It was always the same: I was drowning. The sea was dark, turbulent. There was a storm, a violent storm. I was exhausted, struggling against the undertow. It was cold—I felt as though a thousand knives were lashing into my flesh. I was barely able to keep my head above water. There was a light. A boat. It was several hundred yards away. If I could swim to it, I’d be all right. I summoned up every ounce of strength I could manage and pushed forward.
I could still see the light. I was getting closer. There was a woman o
