by Jessica Park
“Stell, don’t. Don’t talk to me in your head. It’s like I’m invading your privacy. This is awful.”
“Sorry. I understand.”
“I don’t know what to do. And I don’t want Costa to know.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Just…not yet, okay?”
What this all feels like for Sam is a mystery to me, and I’m at a loss about what to do or how to make him feel better. I move into him, lean my head on his back, and wrap my arms around his waist. We’re both staring into the sun that is just beginning to dip.
“I love these afternoons in Maine. The light is more beautiful, the air fresher than I’ve experienced before. I love everything about Watermark.”
“Even now, with all that’s going on?” Sam fiddles with my bracelet while he inhales the sea breeze and runs his fingers over the letters as though he’s reading through touch.
“Even now. The air here? I can breathe again without feeling like I’m inhaling toxins. Before Maine, every move I made hurt. But now, I have a new life with this new air that smells like freedom and love. It makes me want to float into it.”
Sam turns into me and brushes his lips over my shoulder. “I don’t know how you’re so positive. Most people would run screaming from this shit, not want to float in it.”
“I’m not afraid of this. I just want you to have peace, Sam.”
“I will have it. Because of you.”
THE ROWBOAT BUMPS THE DOCK, and I start to tie it off while Sam reaches to Costa and helps him out.
Costa immediately claps his hand repeatedly on Sam’s back. “It worked? Dude, no way. You are completely awesome.”
“I don’t know that I can stop all the voices I hear when I’m at the inn or somewhere else though. One person is probably easier. And I can’t exactly strap Stella to my back and cart her around with me all the time.” Sam smiles, trying to hide his mood from Costa. “This power is going to take work to live with.”
“Then, don’t live with it.” Costa backs up and reaches into the rowboat to pull out a small net. “Look! I caught two fish while you were busy being all death trippy and magical. Seems Stella is good luck for me, too.”
We head back to the house, and I kick off my shoes on the deck while Sam goes inside to get us drinks.
“It’s going to cool off soon,” Costa says. “You need a sweatshirt?”
“Yeah, probably. I’ll get one in a sec.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
I smile at him. “Thanks, CJ. There’s one on the couch in my living room.”
“You got it. Then, maybe we can see what else Sam can do. This is cool shit.” He trots down the stairs, yelling, “Fish for dinner! Fish for dinner!”
Alone, I lean over the railing and see that Sam’s garden is suffering now that his watering power is gone. I find something terribly sad about the dry plots, and I resolve to bring them back to good health. There’s enough death around us without losing the flowers.
Costa hangs my sweatshirt next to me.
I pat his arm. “Thanks.”
Silently, Costa takes the knife from his pocket and squats on the deck. Water from the netted bag runs over the wood and drips off the side. I can’t stop looking at it. The pattern it is making is thick and heavy and crawling toward me. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m nervous and edgy all of a sudden.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask him.
“Fine,” he says dryly. The net is tangled, and he rips the knife through it.
He’s not fine. That’s clear. He’s anything but, and I know from the way my stomach knots that something is urgently wrong.
Sam, get out here. Now, I think.
I wince when Costa slices open one of the fish and starts gutting it. “Do you have to do that here?”
“Can’t take a little blood, princess?” His hands are filthy, and he shoots me a cold expression. “I thought you’d like the head.”
“Hey!” Sam is at the door, three open beer bottles in his hand. “Watch your mouth.”
“Just a joke.” But Costa’s mood has changed. “Relax. This hearing thing is making you touchy. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this power is a bad idea.”
“I’ll figure it out.” His words are loaded with tension.
Costa takes the second fish and swipes the knife through its belly. “It’s pretty fucking simple, Sam. If you hate this hearing power, then trip. Poof! You’ll be all fixed.”
“I’m not tripping again, understand?” When Costa doesn’t say anything, Sam throws the bottles over the railing and takes a step closer. He’s angry now, and the tension between them is high. “I asked if you understood me, Costa. Enough is enough. No one is tripping anymore.”
“Christ, Sam! I heard you, okay?” Now, Costa stands up. He’s not as big as Sam, but he can definitely be intimidating when he wants to be. “You don’t want to trip. I get it. So, don’t. I’ll leave you alone. Everything’s cool.” He glances down to the yard. “Do you want to replace those perfectly good beers you trashed?”
“Sure.” Slowly, Sam backs up, keeping his eyes on Costa, until he’s inside.
“What’s going on with you, Costa?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He slices through the second fish head. “I just think Sam’s being a little goddamn thoughtless.”
“What do you mean?”
“Has it occurred to you that I don’t get to have powers like Sam does?” He holds up the hand with the knife to stop me before I say anything. “I know, I know. My own fault because I tripped him. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want what he has.” Costa’s look is hungry and heartbroken and frightening.
I don’t know which of the three is stronger.
“Sam is being stupid, Stella. He has a gift. And with you? I mean, we didn’t know for sure until today that there were people who could power-augment, and you sure as hell do that for him. And he wants nothing to do with it? Or with death tripping even? We’ve started to figure out what else might be possible, and Sam’s ready to just bag this all and pretend that we aren’t who we are? That’s bullshit.” He points at me. “And you know it’s bullshit, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Why not? You’re in this now. You’re part of us.”
“I’m part of Sam,” I correct him.
“Really? Then, prove it.” Costa wipes his knife on his shorts and stands in front of me, much too close.
Inside my head, I scream for Sam.
Glass breaks inside, and he’s on the deck. He’s fast, but he’s just not fast enough.
Costa has positioned himself behind me with an arm around my neck, his back to Sam, while he faces me toward the ocean.
Stay where you are, Sam, I plead. Don’t move.
“Stella, it’s going to be okay.” Sam’s voice shakes, and I can tell that he’s trying desperately to sound calm. “What’s going on, Costa?”
When Costa turns us around, it hurts me to see the fear overtaking Sam’s face.
Sam puts his hands on his head, and his knees start to buckle. “Oh God, no, Costa. No, no, no. Don’t.”
The knife at my neck hasn’t broken the skin yet, but it’s pressed hard enough so that I know this is serious. “Sam…” I start.
Costa’s hand is steady, his grip on me solid, but his entire body is relaxed. “Here’s the thing, Sam. You and Stella—there’s too much potential in death tripping for us to ignore this power-augmenter piece. We need her. You need her. I think we both know that this has to happen.”
Sam keeps shaking his head. “Please don’t. Anything else. I’ll give you anything else that you want!”
When he takes a step toward us, Costa pushes the blade a bit more. Now, I feel blood.
“No!” Sam stops in his tracks.
Costa continues, “We have to see what Stella can do. That’s the only option here. Both of you need to try to be happy about this. It’ll make it all easier.” He moves his lips to my ear. “
It’s not going to hurt. You think it will, but it won’t, so don’t be scared. Then, you’ll come back and be just like us.”
“Please don’t do this to me.” I can only whisper now, “We’re friends, Costa. We are. You don’t want to do this.”
“Yes, I do. I have to.”
Stop him. Don’t let this happen. Oh God, Sam, I’m scared. You can stop him.
Sam lets out a sob. “Baby, I can’t stop him. You know I would. He’s too fast. I can’t. Goddamn it, Costa!” He’s helpless, and he’s fully aware of that.
“Sam is correct. He can’t stop this. So, you both need to accept what’s going to happen.”
I might die. Forever. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to disappear.
“You’re not going to die, got it? I won’t let that happen.”
Sam is determined, but I don’t know that he can guarantee anything.
Costa hugs me and puts the side of his face against my hair. “Sam and I have done this hundreds of times, and we’re just fine. You will be, too.”
Tell Costa that he’ll lose you for good.
“You’ll lose me, Costa. We’ll never get past this. This is unforgivable.”
“I’m not going to lose you, Sammy.”
When Costa starts to move his hand with the knife, Sam collapses, falling to his knees. I know he sees my blood now.
“No! No! Stell, I will get you. I’ll be right there. I swear to God, I will be right there. I’ll make this okay. I’ll get you. I’ll get you…” Tears fall over his face. “Costa, you’re a fucking psycho! Fuck you for making me trust you.”
“That’s not very nice, Sam,” he responds evenly. “Sometimes, we have to do things that are hard. This is one of those times. You’ll thank me later. Really.”
“Never. I’ll see you in hell,” Sam spits out.
Costa laughs. “If we ever make it there.”
“You will. I’ll find a way.” Sam’s hatred is full-on.
My body is trying to cry, but any move I make brings the knife deeper. Sam, save me.
“Stella, listen to me.” Sam’s hands are tight in his hair, and I know that he’s trying to make me less terrified, but his own fear is showing so profoundly. “It isn’t going to hurt. Look at me. You’ll be okay. I’ll surface you, and we will end this. It’ll be like it never happened.”
I love you. You have to get me. Promise me. I love you.
I wrap my hands around Costa’s arm, which is keeping me pinned close, and I cling to him. He’s the only kind of physical comfort I have now. I thought we cared about each other. I wanted us to. Maybe I can remind him that I mean something to him. But maybe he’s irrevocably broken, and now, I’m just a tool in his thrill seeking and his addiction, in his never-ending quest for fulfillment that he’ll never find.
“I’ll be there. I love you, Stella. I love you so much.” Sam is falling apart. He’s not getting closer to us because he’s trying to prolong these last moments. “Don’t be afraid. Just keep looking at me. Don’t be afraid. I’ll surface you, and we’ll float in the Maine air that you love so much. Just like you wanted. I’m coming for you, but you have to go first. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Keep looking at me.”
It would be impossible for me to look anywhere but into his eyes. Right now, all my faith is in him and our love.
“Here we go,” Costa says softly. “It’ll be fast.”
There’s no time for me to cry. The blade is digging in deeply now. I’m surprised at how easily Costa glides it across my neck. I feel the pressure it takes him, the strength, but the act of slitting my throat is, for him, so simple and smooth. It’s a strange sensation, and I can feel everything about the knife moving through me, but it doesn’t hurt. I have awareness, and each nerve reacts—only not with pain. Instead, warmth and love run through me, starting at my neck and radiating to the rest of my body. And there’s pleasure, electrifying intense pleasure.
Blood is seeping over my chest, and it’s such a lovely sensation. The thick liquid massages my skin and coats me with joy. Dizziness overtakes me, and my vision becomes blurred, but I want this to last forever. Every part of me feels perfect and light and beautiful, whole and heavenly really. I have never been happier or filled with more love.
God, I adore Sam. I feel my love—my worship—for him so sharply.
“It feels so good to die, doesn’t it?” Costa’s words float in front of me, beautiful script letters that travel before my eyes. He lowers me to the ground and kisses my forehead.
Yes. Don’t stop.
It’s too short, Costa. I’m fading too fast. Keep it going. “More…”
“Next time, love,” he says.
The last thing I hear is Sam screaming in agony, and the last thing I see is Sam hurling himself at Costa.
And I’m gone.
IT’S DARK AND PROFOUNDLY LONELY. All the good feelings that I had…are gone. If I could scream, I would. But I can’t speak or hear anything. While moving feels possible, it’s difficult, and I can’t get my feet on anything solid. I’m drowning, yet I can breathe.
Wait, I’m not breathing.
There’s no need for me to inhale and exhale because I don’t need air. All I can see is deep gray, like a dense fog but only thicker, that suspends me. It’s like floating in blood maybe.
Blood. God, feeling my blood run down my skin was so good.
It shouldn’t have been. It should have been terrifying and painful. It was the opposite.
Slowly, I’m able to get my hand to my neck to feel that there is no gaping wound. Part of me is waiting to die fully because none of this can be possible, and part of me is crumbling under the weight of waiting for Sam. Thinking comes with difficulty, and there’s no way for me to tell how far I am from the surface or even which way is up or down.
But it’s Costa who crashes through the viscous substance we are in, and his shoulder slams into mine. Before I can panic, I am blinded by brightness overtaking my vision, flashes of electric color dancing in front of me. Soon though, they settle, falling like diamond dust, and the darkness is back. I reach out, willing to grab on to even Costa. Cognitively, I know I have vile hatred for him, but I can’t feel that now. I’ll do anything to eradicate the nauseating loneliness threatening to sink me deeper into the fog. Finding him feels hopeless because I can’t see or move, but nonetheless, I do what I can to feel around me.
Sam will never find me in this gel. How could he? But I remind myself that he’s done this so much more. He’s more skilled, and he has experience that I can’t begin to imagine. I’m on trip one. He’s on trip infinity.
I don’t know if I’m moving a few inches or covering great distance, but I don’t stop trying to kick and claw my way through this underworld.
My sense of time is violently fouled up. I might have been here for hours, days even.
Out of nowhere, my heart begins to ache for my mother, and I am tortured by wanting her to save me from this increasingly frightening experience. She’s the last person in the world I should need. She would tell me that I’m weak and not worth surfacing, so I shake off my heartache.
And next, it’s Amy who creeps into my being, and I can almost hear her voice. She’s singing, and then she’s laughing. It’s her old laugh, the one that was musical and uplifting, not the devastating, piercing sound she made the last time I heard it. I don’t understand why I’m hearing her.
Before I can question that further, my father’s presence intrudes. My conflicted feelings for him trigger a searing blunt headache. The pain makes me cry out, but there’s no sound. No one will hear me.
Except one person. Through my hurt and disorientation, I’m able to remember Sam.
Find me. I’m here. Please find me, and get me up. Sam, Sam…
My thoughts call his name over and over. Concentrating on him is the only thing that gives me some hope that this will end.
Costa floats near me, and I flail trying to grab his hand. His eyes are open, but he isn’t moving
or responding in any way. My fingertips brush his, and my body convulses among waves of light again. He spasms as much as I do, and then he’s gone.
Hurry. Please hurry. I’m so alone.
Just as my desperation begins to be unbearable, I feel Sam’s arm around my waist. Relief floods me, and I try to get my own arms around him, but it’s an arduous process that takes every ounce of energy I have. His hold though is strong, and when he sharply turns me, I realize that I’ve been upside down. He evenly moves us through the density, swimming us toward what must be the surface.
Just when I begin to see lightness, when the murky gray becomes sheer and I can get a sense of distance, we pound into some kind of ceiling, and we hit this boundary hard. Or rather, I hit it. Sam’s hand goes through it and disappears, and his face contorts as he fights to bring it back under. His shock and fear is too strong for him to hide, but he lowers us back and tries again and then again. It’s no use. Each time, I’m stopped.
What’s happening? God, why can’t you surface me?
Finally, he looks at me, and his expression scares the shit out of me. He doesn’t know. Sam takes his arm from around my body and holds up his hands, telling me to stay.
Don’t leave me. Don’t! Don’t!
Sam takes my face in his hands and kisses me, but then he abruptly pulls away. He throws his hands over his ears and releases a silent scream. I’m too scared to touch him, and there’s nothing I can do but wait until whatever is happening subsides. When he’s recovered, he holds his hands up again. This time, I nod.
I’ll stay. You’re going to come back. Very soon.
Sam blows me a kiss and disappears into the dark.
Because I must survive this, I accept that time has no clarity. My inclination is to do what I normally do when my mind can’t take what is happening. Slipping into my old state of near unconsciousness would let me avoid terror, but even now, I refuse to let that happen. I won’t go back to that place—not unless I have to, not unless I am trapped here forever.
Later—maybe much later, maybe only a few seconds—Sam returns, and he’s dragging Costa with an arm under his chin. When they’re close, Sam starts to shake him, but Costa remains glassy-eyed and drugged. Sam grabs my arm and pulls me to them, setting my hand on Costa. We both have our touch on Costa, who slowly starts to rouse.