Page 192 of Under the Waves
“Oh, you sure could’ve fooled me!” Vienna scoffed at the complete hypocrisy of that statement. I was a lot of things to her, but a daughter was never one of them.
Only when I noticed the sets of eyes peeking at us from behind blinds, and the gathering of people stopping on the sidewalk to watch the shit show go down, did I realize that both my mom and Jasper’s were yelling at each other back and forth aboutme.
It had taken one person to question my mother about me for her to finally attempt to evenclaimshe cared about me. The thought made me sick to my stomach, along with the growing crowd that was raising my anxiety levels with every passing second.
“I’ll go,” I whispered, and suddenly, all the shouting stopped. Each swallow made my throat feel tighter than before as each gulp of air seemed further and further out of reach. I’d do anything to get them all from staring at me. At us. At the scene they were making.
To stop my family from becoming the town’s favorite source of news and gossip once again.
No matter what it costed me,even if that ended up being my life…
Jasper’s mom turned around, putting her back to my mother without even hesitating to do so, and said, “Poppy—”
“Beat it,” my mother seethed, interrupting her before she could say anything more. “She said she’s leaving, now get lost before I call the cops on you for taking my daughter hostage without my consent!”
Shoving Vienna aside, my mother grasped tightly onto my wrist and started dragging me back towards the truck.
This time, though, it wasn’t me who stopped her, it was Jasper’s mom.
Clutching onto my wrist softly, she knelt down and whispered, “you will always have a choice in your life, Poppy.Always. Never forget that, my sweet girl.” With one last gentle squeeze, she added, “We’ll come and get you, Poppy. I promise you. Just hold on for a little bit longer. Just keep fighting for that little bit more.”
I turned her words over and over again inside my head as she became just another blur in the distance, a reflection in the sealed truck windows. As the road beneath me started to move, and the houses down Jasper’s street began to fall away into the distance, I curled my legs up against my chest and buried my head between them, letting my tears silently roll down my skin.
Just keep fighting for that little bit more.
And I would—for her, for Jasper, and mostly for myself. I wouldn’t give up. I wouldn’t ever stop fighting, even though I knew it was fruitless.
I would be back inside that house, those walls…
I didn’t think I could make it out a second time.
We’ll come and get you, Poppy. I promise you.
I recalled her words over and over again, taking comfort in the thought of them, because that was all they’d ever be—just a comforting thought, even if she and Jasper couldn’t see it. There was no hope for me. Not anymore. Not now.
Clutching onto myself just that little bit tighter, I choked back sobs trying to make myself as invisible as I could to my parents. The more they forgot about me, the more likely I would survive.
The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if anyone in this small town would even notice I was gone.
Would anyone even care?
Itried, okay? It was all I’d ever done. And it had never once been enough.
Why couldn’t it just be enough? Why couldn’tIjust be enough?
I didn’t know how long I’d had my eyes squeezed shut as my teeth chattered together, eyes barren of any tears as the remnants of them dried upon my cheeks, telling myself over and over again just to close my eyes and wish it all away. But sometimes, no amount of hope, no amount of diving headfirst into the ocean to wash the memories away, could erase the broken things I’d seen, and the fractures of the girl I had become.
I could’ve walked away. I could’ve turned my back and never looked back. One more year until I turned eighteen and could run far, far away from them both. From that town. One more year. I just had to hold on for one more…
A glint of white caught my eye. A Polaroid picture.
Reaching down, I picked up the small photo and turned it over, expecting to find maybe Oliver, or an old picture of my dad and I from an out of state competition, except…
“Why do you have a picture of Milla Brzezinski in your car?”
The missing girl.
One of hundreds of missing kids.