BEFORE THE TIDE(4)
667 Words
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Annalise walked into the kitchen, the cool air from the fridge brushing against her face as she pulled the door open. She reached for a bottle of water, but just as she was about to close it, she noticed her mother standing by the counter, arms folded, watching her intently.
Mrs. Leclair sighed, breaking the silence. “Annalise, can we talk?”
Annalise twisted the bottle cap open, her fingers tightening around it. “Yeah?”
Her mother hesitated, searching her daughter’s face. “Did you try to hide Zayan’s boat?”
Annalise blinked, the bottle slipping slightly in her hand. “What? No.”
Mrs. Leclair’s eyes narrowed, studying her closely. “I only wondered… because of what happened between you two. You were angry.”
Annalise frowned, setting the bottle down on the counter. “You think I’d do something like that out of spite?”
“No, sweetheart. I just want to understand. You’ve never talked about how you all ended up on that island.”
Annalise exhaled sharply, the memory twisting inside her. “Because I don’t remember everything. I only recall that we were looking for a signal, and then… then Clara…” She stopped, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the bottle again. “Zayan did something terrible to her, Mom. Just because she was my friend.”
Mrs. Leclair’s expression softened, her voice gentle. “What did he do?”
Annalise opened her mouth to explain, but suddenly her vision flickered. The kitchen seemed to tilt, the air turning unnaturally cold. A faint ringing filled her ears as her pupils expanded, the blue of her irises swallowed like ink spilling into water.
Mrs. Leclair froze, her breath catching in her throat. “Annalise, wait—”
Annalise blinked, unaware of the change. “What?”
Her mother’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “Your eyes…”
Annalise frowned, touching her face. “What about them?”
And just like that, her eyes flickered back to normal.
Mrs. Leclair blinked rapidly, stepping back as if trying to shake off a sudden chill. Her heart pounded fiercely. She wanted to believe she’d imagined it, that it was nothing more than the tricks of exhaustion.
Annalise gave her a puzzled look but shrugged, lifting the bottle to take a sip. “Okay…”
As Annalise turned away, Mrs. Leclair’s gaze lingered, unsettled. Something was happening to her daughter, something she couldn’t explain.
________
The afternoon sun burned through the blinds as Clara sat stiffly in the doctor’s office, her hands locked together, so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her mother sat beside her, offering fleeting, anxious glances, but Clara felt the weight pressing down on her chest like a stone she couldn’t push away.
Dr. Reynolds leaned forward in his chair, his lined face softened by kind eyes. “Clara,” he said gently, his voice low and steady. “I know what happened left its mark. But you made it through. You’re here.”
The words slid past her like water. Her throat tightened. The water had been too alive. Too deep. In her nightmares, it still closed over her head, dragging her down, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“Clara?” Her mother’s voice cut through. Clara blinked, realizing her nails had left faint crescents in her arms.
“Nightmares again?” Dr. Reynolds asked, his tone more knowing than questioning.
Clara gave a small nod. She didn’t bother asking how he knew. Her mother must have told him.
“We’ll take this at your pace,” he said. “You don’t have to speak until you’re ready. Silence can be part of healing, too.”
Clara stared at the floor. She wasn’t sure silence would ever be enough.
By the time she and her mother stepped out of the hospital, the sun had already begun to sink, painting the neighborhood in a golden calm that didn’t reach her. To Clara, the world was still drowning.
- Writer
