Finding Abby

17

A sludgy darkness surrounds me.

I'm underwater. My eyes are wide open, but my mouth is clamped closed. A Silent Moth t-shirt flops around me like a burst balloon, wilting against my skin then floating up as the liquid oozes and drifts around me. My body is thick, heavy, even though I'm suspended in the gloomy depths. I see a pin prick of light way through the murky green, watery glow. I start to swim towards it, but an intense pressure tugs me back. My feet are weighted down in the mud. I'm stuck.

I look upwards towards the light where tendrils of fingers reach down through the thick liquid. I can make out my dad looking down at me in the shimmering light, his long hair floating through the water as he reaches for me. I stretch upward through the molten, toffee-thick water. The wristband drops down along my arm, caught in a shaft of light-filled bubbles. I can't get to his grasping hands; can't quite touch them. He's so close; not close enough. I strain. I stretch. I kick. I push my body with every inch of strength I have but I'm stuck fast. I look up at him. He's still reaching down for me; his blue eyes on mine.

My mouth locks closed. My chest squeezes tight; my lungs convulse inside me; all the air gone. My eyes burn where I stare up at him; almost burst out of my skull with the terrifying pressure building inside me. Water seeps into my nostrils, hits the back of my throat with a rush of sickening acidic burning. Streams of bubbles escape from my mouth, glistening, floating up and away from me towards my dad's reaching fingers. I try to stretch up to him once more; towards the rays of light that surround my dad's face, but my feet are glued to the bottom.

My mouth is forced open.

I am screaming—

"Jenna?" A voice next to me.

I open my eyes. The light is odd – green, white, speckled shadows, all at once. Finn is lying on his side on the sofa bed next to me, one hand on my shoulder, the other curled under his cheek. His eyes are wide and silvery and full of fear in the dimly lit room. It takes me a moment to work out where I am; why Finn is sleeping next to me.

My heart pounds, my whole body is clammy with sweat. I push myself up; throw the doona off. My head heavy; stomach, thick and churning.

"You had a nightmare," Finn says, settling himself into a sitting position, his palm solid and flat on my heaving back.

I take a rattling breath in and swing my legs over the side of the sofa bed. I'm dressed in a pair of tartan pyjama pants and a grey t-shirt that's too big for me, both now sticky with sweat, stale smelling.

I push my fingers up and down over my eyes; look at Finn over my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Finn doesn't say anything.

I reach over for my phone. It's nearly three in the morning. I have a few messages from Minda but I don't read them. My heart is calming down.

"I'm okay," I whisper, as the panic lifts.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I curl under the doona facing Finn, who lies back down and pushes the thick folds around my neck for me.

"Was it about your dad and what Claire told us?"

"Maybe," I mumble. Finn's eyes are worrying across my face. "A bit of everything. I was drowning. You know, the typical drowning dream."

Finn's fingers reach for mine under the doona.

Except for me it wasn't typical. I'm not afraid of drowning. If I drowned, it would be the way it was meant to be. It would mean I hadn't respected the water and the power of nature. I thought, maybe, the dream was because, before we went to bed, Claire talked to us about my dad's death.