s t r e a m {SAPNAP}

- 14 -

BEE POV

! HEAVY TW FOR ABUSE AND HOMOPHOBIC SLURS !

***

I stand in the middle of my room, staring at my backpack that lays on my bed. I have way too many textbooks for the amount of backpack room I was allotted. God, I hate being in AP classes.

Someone downstairs angrily shuts the front door. The slam sends a vibration throughout my house. I try to ignore it, focusing on how to shove all my school supplies into my backpack without it ripping. I'd been going around school lately feeling like a damn hunchback. I finally decided to empty it out and sort through everything.

I go through my notebooks and try to decide what I need and what I don't. In goes my AP chemistry book, my AP Comp Sci book, and my Junior Lit textbook. Even with all three textbooks, my bag feels lighter already. I shove in a couple of thin college-ruled notebooks and my favorite pen, finally zipping up the back and setting it by my door.

Heavy footsteps climb up the staircase and I recognize them as my dad's. My mom's footsteps are way too light.

I hold my breath and rush to my desk, pulling out some random book from the shelf. Maybe, I think, if he sees I'm reading he'll leave me alone.

He does not bother to knock. The door swings open and I feel my heart rate accelerate.

"What are you doing?" He asks, but his voice is weirdly gravely. His words slur together.

"Reading," I mutter, not looking up to him.

It happens in a flash. I do not even see him come up next to me, but suddenly his hand is gripping my wrist and pulling my from the chair. I feel as though this has happened before, but knowing my family, it probably has. I scream for him to let go.

His breath is hot in my face as he drunkenly shouts to me. I feel his spit fly and land on my cheeks. I start to cry. He doesn't find pity in my tears.

"Stop!" He yells. "Stop crying, you fucking--" I try to block out his cruel words.

My heart is racing. He finally lets go and pushes me backwards, pulling his belt off. My God, what was this, some sort of crazy nightmare? I try to shield my face with my hands.

Suddenly I am not on the floor anymore. I uncover my eyes and find myself back at the beach. The water ebbs against my skin, calming my beating heart. It speaks to me, a howl of uncertainty, and I walk closer to the waves that beckon me.

It's riptide season, I remember, but by the time I try to escape, the ocean has already taken a hold of my ankles and dragged me to the ground.

I struggle to keep my head above the water. I flail desperately, sputtering, calling for help. I see a figure on the shore--he stands with a woman in a beautiful, flowing sundress. She reaches out for me but I cannot find her hand. Her laugh fills my mind--it's melodious and calming, like I've heard it before.

I cry out for her, but I don't think she can hear me. She and the man she stands next to laugh together.

Water fills my lungs and I try to cough it up. My throat burns. Salty water fills every orifice I can think of.

It's almost as if the waves have hands that grab my body and pull me away from the shore. The riptide has taken me far from the land, and no longer can I feel sand beneath my hands.

I stop struggling.

The pain I feel in my chest is overwhelming, but the voices that fill my head hurt more. My father's voice; it howls and taunts my every move, my every word, my every breath. I hear a sick crack of leather on skin, and feel it burn my arm where it would have hit me. I hear my mother scream for him to stop.

His voice floats above the rest. He was not always like this, I think. He was once kind to me.

Now he wishes I were someone else.

I hear the words disappointment and worthless and fag dance around my brain like they were old friends. The cracks of leather do not stop and I am filled with uncertainty.

Bubble drifts to the illuminated surface of the water, and I watch in serendipity as I fall away, my lungs burning and my eyes slowly closing. Somehow his voice rocks me to sleep as I fight the urge to open my mouth and let the salty water overtake what little oxygen I have left.

I remember once hearing that when you drown, you physically don't start breathing until the moment you're about to pass out, because the urge to stay alive is so much more evident when you're on the brink of death that your body will fight against it until it physically can't anymore.

I do not feel my body hit the sand beneath me. I am much to tired to fight anything off anymore.