Page 25 of Never Enough

The more I think about it, the more I’m freaking out.

Hastily, I slip off the couch. Alex is still in the kitchen, clueless and happy. I can’t ruin that.

I rush into the bathroom and close the door with a soft click behind me. The small tiles are cold under my feet, giving me much needed grounding. Yet it’s not enough. So, I lean against the sink in a daze, to stare at my reflection. My face looks pale, eyes too wide.

“Ruby lips above the water

Blowing bubbles, soft and fine

But, alas, I was no swimmer

So I lost my Clementine.”

Breathe, Daphne. Just breathe.It’s not real.

My chest tightens, squeezing until each breath becomes a battle. I grip the edge of the basin until my knuckles turn white.

Grounding.

Focus on the sound of water dripping from the faucet.

Drip. Drip.Drip.

I’m back there. In our trailer.

Mother’s raspy voice sings to me while my lungs burn.

“Ruby lips above the water

Blowing bubbles, soft and fine

But, alas, I was no swimmer

So I lost my Clementine.”

I slide down to the floor, curling up against the tub. When that doesn’t work, I tuck my knees to my chest and hug them close. Everything feels too much. The walls press in, inching closer with every shaky inhale.

The tub is empty.

Dry.

I am safe, and she’s not here. Alex is.

If I scream, someone will hear.

The door has been locked.

I am in control of my body.

I pull out my phone again and stare at the message. Lynn. Why? How? The questions spin, unanswerable whirl winding inside my head. I type out a response to Eden, anything to make her believe all is well.

Me:

Thanks, I’ll check it out tomorrow.

Tomorrow, when I can deal with it.

Tomorrow, when maybe I can breathe again.