Anchors in the Shadows

Cracks in the Pavement

The bus pulled away with a hiss, leaving Damien and Amelia on the corner. They started the familiar walk just a couple blocks to the Rockens’ house. The late afternoon sun stretched shadows across the cracked pavement, and the air smelled faintly of asphalt and cut grass. Amelia fell into step beside him, swinging her bag over one shoulder. “So,” she said, voice casual but curious, “what did you think of Ms. Winters?” Damien kept his eyes on the sidewalk. “She seems… different.” “Different how?” Amelia pressed, nudging him lightly. “Leather jacket, sharp eyes, mysterious vibe? You looked like you were about to write her a love poem in chemistry.” Damien’s jaw tightened. “I was not.” Amelia grinned, her tone teasing but warm. “You definitely were.” They turned the corner, and the sound hit him before the sight did rushing water. A busted pipe jutted from the ground near the curb, spraying a steady stream across the street. The water pooled into a shallow flood, spreading toward their path. Damien froze. His chest tightened, breath catching as the dream surged back the dock, the fall, the drowning. The sound wasn’t ordinary anymore; it was suffocating. His hands trembled, and the world tilted. “Damien?” Amelia’s voice sharpened, her hand gripping his arm. “Hey, it’s just a pipe. You’re fine.” But he wasn’t fine. The sight of the water, the way it spread like a tide, sent him spiraling. He saw the sinking ship tattoo in his mind, the clouds above it, the anchor tied to Amelia’s buoy. He remembered being eleven, the lake swallowing him whole, the shadow leaning over the dock. And then a voice. Not Amelia’s. Not anyone he recognized. A faint echo in his memory, calling his name as he sank. Urgent, desperate, unfamiliar. Damien’s breath caught. The dream had never given him that before. He had always thought Amelia was the only one there. But now, he knew someone else had been. Someone who had tried to reach him. Something clicked. Not the whole truth, but a fragment. “I need to go,” Damien said suddenly, pulling away. Amelia frowned. “Go where? We’re almost home.” “The library,” he lied quickly, forcing his voice steady. “I… I need to check something for class. I don’t want you leaving me behind when it comes to grades.” Her brows knit in concern. “Now? You can do it later.” Damien shook his head, already stepping back from the water, from her. “No. It has to be now.” Amelia studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine. Just don’t get lost in your books again.” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but her eyes lingered on him, searching. Damien turned away, heart still pounding, and headed toward the library. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for records, history, something to explain the drowning, the accident, the shadow in his dream. But he knew one thing the answers weren’t at home.