Page 47 of Under the Waves
Something inside me was broken—empty heart, faulty lungs, shattered mind. A darkness that slithered through my veins, taking control of my every movement, every breath, every thought. I was a weak excuse for a person, and my own family knew as much.Hell, everyone in this stupid town seemed to know as much.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I glanced around me. No one was here, not at this time of night. That was why sunset surfs were my favorite. I had the entire ocean to myself, and like I always did, I would let the waves heal me, washing away the darkness until it leached its way back to me by the time I reached the shore. I could wash away the memories of yesterday and create a blank canvas for the ones I’d create tomorrow.
The oceanhealed, and I felt sorry for the people who didn’t understand that.
Soft hues glistened across my board, bathing it in a happiness I longed to feel myself. If I could’ve chosen a new board, I think I’d choose one with slick black lines that ran across the edge of my board and the middle would be coated in a plain white, matching my infamous wetsuit.
The Orca. That was what they all whispered behind my back. Ruthless. Vicious.Killer. That was who they saw me as,who the world chose me to be, so that was who I became. I molded myself into the vision they created for me, and I played it like a damned song. It kept gossiping lips far from my vision, as they were too busy trembling at the thought of approaching me.
But what if they all knew? I felt like a fraud and if they came any closer, they would all see too. I was already broken, I knew, but even broken pieces could shatter. I refused to be made a mockery of just because of a grudge they kept hanging over my head like a bright red target. Tears swelled in the corners of my eyes and I groaned.
Wishing I wasn’t one of those people who cried at every minor inconvenience, I wiped them away hurriedly. White lines on pale skin, barren stomach just so my legs were thin. I was stuck here. Everyone else seemed to move on with life, but not me. Life had paused, forcing me to relive this pain over and over again. Obliging me to listen to every whisper, to see every stare, to taste each disappointing glance thrown my way.
Water kissed my toes as I neared the edge. I calmed myself before paddling out into the ocean. I forced myself to keep going. I wouldn’t stop now, Icouldn’t.
What was it that dory said?Just keep swimming.
That was what I had to do—just keep swimming. In every wave that passed, I heard his scream in my ears. I felt it brush over my skin, surfing through my blood. This used to be the only time my heart felt content; the raging thoughts inside my head quietened with every brush of water against my skin. Out here, the growls of my stomach were drowned out by whispers of the ocean and the width of my thighs failed to capture the attention of my eyes.
Out here, it was justme.
Poppy Maria Isabelle Wells.
No masks. No walls. No pretending.
Brushing my fingers through the calming waves, I felt my lips tug into a small smile. I was doing it, I was actually doing this. Squinting against the setting sun, I ducked under the water letting the wave pass overhead. When I resurfaced, I felt my fingers tremble. There was nowhere out here that didn’t remind me of him. Even without the reminders of him, I didn’tthink anyone knew me as well as the waves did—its salty waters roamed across my skin, caressing thin white lines and too slim wrists. It cared for me more than anyone ever had.
I owed these waters my life.Well, what was left of it, anyway.
Each kiss against my skin, each rock of my board beneath me reminded me that maybe I could survive—that this darkness was not eternal, and some day, I would see the light again.
A small laugh so broken my voice cracked left my throat barren. I knew it was a fool’s wish to think I could be anything more than the shell of the girl I used to be. Everyone my age knew what their future looked like and where it would take them. I had trouble envisioning myself surviving to tomorrow.
My heartbeat was so ferocious I could hear it thundering in my ears. When I looked around, I saw a little boy wail and thrash around in the water. His thin, frail hands desperately flung out of the water, grasping onto the air like it was something tangible. Something that could pull him to shore. It wasn’t. Paddling over was instinct, my body knowing exactly what to do before I even had time to think. I reached the kid in a hurry, my hands darting into the water to grab a hold of him, but when I pulled them out, only water fell through the gaps in my fingers.
He was gone.
It was a mirage, Poppy. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him.
No—but it was real. I saw him. I saw him struggling and I heard him—I heard his screams. I swear I could. He was here on the waves. He followed me down because I was someone he looked up to. All he wanted was to be just like me. He wanted to be loved and adored by our father, I knew but they adored him differently than they did with me—for Oliver, it was true and pure. He was everything they had been waiting for.
But me?It was only out of pity and selfishness. If I went Pro, they could use my sponsorship money to help themselves or send Oliver to a good school, hoping he didn’t turn out like me. Broken like me.
By the time I finished paddling out, the calming water singing beneath my board, I realized just long I had been out here. The rising sun glistened against my board as my entire body trembled. I hated it.Why couldn’t I just be normal?
The calming waters began to stir, growing bolder and stronger—an unbeatable current churning in the deep. Panic coursed through my blood.
Breathe, Poppy, breathe.
A tremble rocked my board as the water rose to thrash over the top, soaking me completely. Fear caged my heart, rattling my frail bones as I tried to scramble any coherent thoughts into a sentence. I needed to get back to the shore. On land it was safe. Oliver should’ve stayed on the sand where it was safe. If he had, he wouldn’t be dead.
Fingers gripped tightly to the sides of my board, I pushed down onto my stomach and tried to catch a wave to ride. The golden sands of the beach were lost to my gaze, the thin shoreline disappearing from my sight. Only the dark ocean surrounded me, swallowing me whole.
Only when my board rocked over, plunging me into the cold, dark depths, did I realize my brittle bones couldn’t fight the waves when they found me helpless in their wake. And just like that, the one place my soul had always felt calm, became the place that swallowed me whole.
I was five years old when the emotional abuse started.
Six by the time I could tell apart the different types of footsteps down the hall.