The memory surfaced before I had a chance to squash it. My father throwing me into the deep end, his calm face swimming above me as I sank, my mother coming to my rescue. I didn’t really want to recount it, but both Ethan and Isaac were staring at me, waiting.
“My father…” I started, then paused, searching for the right words. “He wasn’t a kind man. When I was seven, he decided I needed to learn to swim. His method was to throw me in the deep end of our pool and let me figure it out.”
I felt Isaac stiffen beside me. I hadn’t told him about this before. I hadn’t told anyone, actually.
“I nearly drowned,” I continued. “And he just watched, letting me almost die, until my mom jumped in and pulled me out. After that, I developed a fear of water. It’s been that way ever since.”
