At the Bottom of the Bay

Chapter Nine

Sofia fell asleep around midnight, despite everything.

She spent many hours before that laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in... something. Not thoughts, her brain couldn't muster up any of those. But it was something, something that kept her conscious and way too aware of the feeling of her clothes and her hair and the bed beneath her, but at the same time carried her away to the bottom of the ocean. She didn't like it and she didn't hate it, but she had to experience every excruciating moment. Time passed. It always fucking did.

Miriam wasn't her pseudo mom, despite the weird attempt at bonding this afternoon, and she didn't call her down for dinner. Sofia didn't eat anything, and imagined Kelsey's big, sad eyes if she found out.

Sofia got up at one point and looked out at the bay, searching for evidence of hail damage, but there was none. She watched the fog roll in. There shouldn't be fog.

It reached the bank. She crawled back into bed and finally slept.

The next morning, Miriam once again brushed her off when she tried to look at the chore chart.

"You can't do anything with your arm in a sling. Get out of here. Enjoy the fresh air."

The door opened just as Sofia reached it, nearly hitting her in the arm. A large hand caught her by the shoulder, steadying her even though she was perfectly fucking steady already.

"Sorry about that," a familiar voice said.

Sofia's stomach dropped as she looked up into the handsome, square-jawed face of Officer Bosco.

He was in full uniform and looked incredibly out of place and modern in the old-school, dark interior of Lantern Light. He raised a hand to turn down his radio as it crackled and slipped past her, but didn't move on, didn't go to the bar for a drink. Which made sense, Sofia thought peevishly, since it was nine in the morning and he was clearly on duty.

"Sofia Nucci," he said, each word a bullet to the chest. "It's good to see you. Finally. I hope things are going well?"

Right. Miriam had mentioned he came by to see if Sofia was staying here yet. The thought of him so invested in her whereabouts and living situation was incredibly uncomfortable. Sofia tried to focus on that feeling over the rising tide of anger in her gut.

"I'm good," she said through her teeth, avoiding his gaze, eyes on the sliver of the window she could see over his shoulder.

"That's good." He didn't sound convinced; Sofia could feel him watching her, taking in the cuts and bruises on her face. "What happened here?" He touched her again, thick fingers prodding at her arm in its sling.

Sofia jerked away, harder than she intended, falling back into the edge of the bar. "Don't," she barked.

Behind her, Miriam paused at whatever she'd been doing, suddenly quiet, watching. Sofia took a deep breath, shoving the anger back down. She'd never understood how to let it out before, had thought it silly to punch or scream into a pillow, and now she was having the opposite problem, unable to hold it back. But she wasn't about to catch a charge for assaulting a cop, so she took another stupid, calming breath and closed her eyes.

Perhaps mistaking her outburst for pain, Bosco was quick to apologize. "Didn't mean to cause you more harm," he said, and she wished he would choke on his reassurance, fall to the floor, turn purple, die–

You don't belong here. The thought came unbidden, from somewhere she didn't understand, but that didn't make it wrong. Sofia imagined herself dragging Bosco back out the door of the bar, down into the surf, holding him under the water. And why did that sound like a good idea?