Tide

Chapter 47

When I stepped into my house, I caught sight of my mother cooking dinner. She was standing by the stove, stirring some raw, chopped up pieces of chicken inside of a pan. She didn't notice me when I walked in.

"Hi," I said.

She flinched, then looked over her shoulder, her gaze meeting mine. "Hey. How was it?"

"Fine," I replied. "Did anyone call?"

"No. Why?"

I shook my head. "Never mind."

I sat down at the kitchen table, picking at my nails. There was a long, awkward pause. "What's for dinner?" I asked.

"Chicken and rice."

"Okay. Do you need help with anything?"

"You could set the table."

"Alright." I replied. I walked over to the cabinet and opened it, reaching for a large plate. Out of nowhere, the sight of the tidal wave flashed through my vision. Startled, I gasped and dropped the plate, watching it crash to the ground. I envisioned the wave striking the beach with a similar amount of force, crushing everything in sight. The chunks from the plate went flying. I jumped back to avoid getting hit.

"Crap. I-I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to do that."

"It's fine, Ava." She sighed.

"I'm sorry, I promise I'll-"

"I said it's fine."

"Mom, I-"

"It's fine."

"I-I'll clean it up. Just let me go get the-"

"Ava! What don't you get about what I just said? It's fine."

I bit my lip, "Are you sure you don't need-"

"No." She said, staring at the counter, her back faced towards me.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Ava. I'm sure." Her voice sounded strained. She didn't bother looking at me.

"Mom, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Ava." She said sternly. "Just... Go. Please leave."

"I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's not your fault." She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. "Just go."

For a while, I just stood there, unsure of what to do.

Hesitantly, I walked away, letting out a deep breath. Taking one last glance at her, I caught sight at her sitting down at the kitchen table and burying her face into her hands. I didn't say anything. Instead, I turned away quickly and went directly to my room.

Pushing the door open and then closing it behind me, I walked into my bedroom and plopped down onto my bed. I sat on the edge, my feet dangling off the side. I kicked them back and forth, staring blankly at the ground.

The drapes surrounding my window were left open, the sun pouring into my room. I remembered when Isaac had first introduced me to the sunrise. He seemed so happy, so unaffected by reality. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was denial, because now here I was, sitting in my bedroom wondering whether or not he was alive.

The thought of him sent a stab of anxiety spearing into my stomach. My skin felt warm, and I could feel my heart beat pounding inside of my ears. I tried to steady my breaths, but they came out sharp and shaky.

I didn't know what was going on.

I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to clear my mind, but instead, the image of a rotting corpse flashed into my vision. My eyes shot open. I clutched my forehead, breathing in and out, but nothing worked. I felt like I was suffocating, but I knew very well that I was still breathing. I could practically feel water filling my lungs every time I drew in a breath.

I wiped the sweat off my palms against my jeans, trying to remain calm.

I told myself to breathe, that it'd all be over soon. But I knew very well that wasn't the case.

I'd wake the next morning in the same amount of pain. I'd wake up the next morning traumatized by yet another nightmare. I'd wake up the next morning with the same recurring memories. I'd wake up the next morning still having lived those moments, unable to go back in time and fix them. It wouldn't be over soon.

I saw the image of Isaac. I pictured his body, lifeless and limp. I imagined Harper finding him, screaming and crying and wondering what she could have done to save him... What I could have done to save him. 

I thought of my father struggling through the tsunami, calling our names as the current carried him away, when another wave came and struck him dead. I couldn't bare the thought of it happening to Mason too.

I remembered my mother, crying and mourning over the death of my father and my little brother. She was better at handling reality. To me, it still seemed unreal. Except for right now. Right now, it felt all too real. The pain was unbearable. The flashbacks taunted me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

"I can't do this anymore. It hurts, Ava." Isaac's voice echoed through my head. "Don't be scared," he whispered. "Don't be scared."

Nolan's words rung through my mind. "Are you okay?" he'd asked.

I felt hot tears spilling onto my cheeks. I still couldn't breathe. I gasped for air, but felt nothing.

"I'm sorry, Ava. I'm so, so sorry."

I understood him now. I was finally able to forgive him, because I knew how he felt. Pain ran through me. I was suffocating. Drowning.

The plate crashed to the floor. I envisioned the wave striking the beach with a similar amount of force, crushing everything in sight.

Everything tied back to that day. December 26th, 2004.

The sky; it grew darker. The wind strengthened. I stopped in my tracks.

The memories wouldn't go away. I stood up from my bed, in a trance. I couldn't think straight. My breaths were heavy, but I was convinced I wasn't breathing. My heart was racing. I was out of breath. I pushed the door open, my face wet with tears, and walked towards the washroom.

I heard my mother's voice. "Ava?" she called from the kitchen. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom." I said, trying to steady my voice. In a whisper, I repeated, "I'm fine."

But I wasn't. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't get rid of the pain.

I locked myself into the washroom, leaning against the door, tears streaming down my face. I was desperate. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't breathe. I walked over to the sink and turned on the tap, letting my fingers run under the cold water. I collected some in my hands, bringing them up to my face and spraying the water onto my skin. I thought it would help me wake up. Think properly.  But it didn't do anything.

I still couldn't breathe. I still felt the pain. The memories were still there.

I stared blankly at the reflection in the mirror. The person I saw didn't look like me. Her eyes were red and empty, and her expression, broken.

The person in the reflection wasn't a survivor. She wasn't a hero. She was just a girl whose past tormented her. She was just a girl who didn't know how to cope. The girl in my reflection was weak. Weak, and frightened, and traumatized. She didn't deserve the interview scheduled for her. She didn't deserve recognition. She didn't deserve to be named a "survivor", simply because she wasn't one. She didn't deserve to live on. What made her so special that she had managed to remain alive, while the others did not? Why was she granted the opportunity to exist? She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve it. The girl in the reflection disgusted me.

I opened the medicine cabinet. I wanted to feel numb. I wanted it to stop.

I wanted her gone.