by Willow Rose
“It’s police brutality!”
That made me laugh out loud as I walked away with both rocks.
“Yeah? Well, good thing I’m off-duty tonight.”
Chapter 4
The Serenity followed the current with its prow facing the open sea, pushed by a gentle landward breeze. They had turned off the engine and lowered the anchor just outside of the marina. Behind them glittered the Miami lights in the dark night, and they could no longer see the yacht club.
The four girls listened to the music the waves made when gently kissing the sides of the boat. It was so quiet out there in the open ocean, one of them, Sandra, thought to herself. She, for one, had longed for such peace of mind for a long time. Her friend, Katelyn, was drinking a soda.
“Should we be heading back?” Georgiana said. It was her father’s boat they had borrowed, and she was always so worried her dad would get mad at her. They had told him they were going fishing, even though they had no idea how.
“It’s getting late.”
“No,” the fourth girl, Martina, said with a light laugh. “We’re eighteen now. We can do as we please. Our parents don’t get to boss us around anymore. I wanna stay out a little longer, please?”
Katelyn watched Sandra finish her soda. Martina gave them a look. “I can’t believe we’ll be graduating in just a few months, can you?”
“I sure can believe it,” Katelyn said and lifted her soda. “I can’t wait to…”
Katelyn stopped talking when they all heard a noise coming from behind them. They turned simultaneously to look and spotted someone standing in the stern of the boat, wearing a black diver’s wetsuit.
“Who the heck is that?” Georgiana said and rose to her feet, pushing Martina away. “Hey, you! What are you doing on my boat?”
The person remained eerily still and just stood there like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sandra couldn’t see a face or make out if it was a man or a woman.
Could it be someone who’s lost? Sandra thought to herself for a brief second while Georgiana rushed toward the person. Maybe this person thought it was his own boat? Maybe he couldn’t find his way back in the darkness? Maybe he’s in some kind of trouble?
“You can’t just crawl on board my father’s boat,” Georgiana yelled as she almost reached the diver. Too late did she see the harpoon in his hands, not till it was fired and speared through her chest.
Sandra stopped breathing when she saw what happened. Shock rushed through her body in waves, and she found herself completely unable to move. Martina started to scream and instinctively rush toward Georgiana’s lifeless body, but as she did, the diver pulled out a knife. It cut through the air with a hiss, cutting into her skin. The blade penetrated her throat, splitting it open, and she too fell to the deck, landing right next to Georgiana.
Seeing this happen to her friends, Katelyn tried to make a run for it, but the diver had by then pulled out the spear from Georgiana’s heart, reloaded the gun, and fired it at her, hitting her in the leg. Katelyn screamed and fell while the diver rushed toward her. Sandra crawled up on the edge of the boat and looked into the dark water beneath. While the diver slit Katelyn’s throat, she made the decision.
She closed her eyes and plunged in.
As she landed in the water, she swam for the surface as fast as she could, then spotted the lights from the yacht club. Sandra screamed while trying to swim.
Then she heard the plunge coming from behind her, and panic set in as she realized the diver had jumped in after her. She swam for her life, screaming for help, desperately flapping the water, but feeling like she was going nowhere, like in those awful nightmares she always had where she ran and ran, but never moved. She lifted her head above the water and gasped for air when she felt something grab her. Arms reached up from the ocean beneath her and pulled her downward forcefully into the deep darkness below.
Chapter 5
“You should have seen her; it was like that time when we told her she couldn’t start horseback riding because we couldn’t afford it. Do you remember that? Of course, you do. How could you forget? It almost broke your heart, having to say no to her. It was embarrassing to her since Amelia, her best friend, got to go. That’s the only time I remember you being embarrassed by us not having much.”
I reached over and took Camille’s hand in mine. It was so delicate, and I was reminded of the day of our wedding when I had put the ring on her finger. I had held her hand in mine and thought it was such a responsibility to have to take care of another person, someone so fragile.
I had no idea how right I had been.
“Anyway, I told her she was grounded for a month, then took it back and said a week instead. But then she started to bargain, and we ended on two days. I know what you’re thinking; don’t give me that look,” I said and chuckled, then leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. My face was still pounding from the beating I had received the night before. “I am weak; I have to admit it. I have a soft spot for our daughter. I never can be mad at her for more than a few minutes. It’s those eyes, you know? I can’t resist them.”
I sighed and looked at my wife. She was still beautiful, so gorgeous. And those eyes, they still had me locked in. Even though they weren’t exactly looking at me, but down at the floor while her head slumped to the side and slid downward toward her shoulder. I grabbed it and pushed it back in place on the pillow. I had bought her one of those elevation beds so she could sit up straight from time to time, but her head kept falling, so I lowered it slightly. Her eyes stared right past me as I looked at her beautiful face and caressed her cheek. I leaned over and wiped drool from her chin, then kissed her cheek gently, closing my eyes, envisioning her when she had still been well.
Before the drugs caused her brain damage.
People usually thought that if you overdosed, you either died or you would be okay. But that wasn’t always true. Not for Camille. She had been a drug addict when I met her through my job as an undercover cop at Miami PD, infiltrating the underworld of crack, especially in Overtown, the Haitian part of town. She had been hooked back then, and I had taken her to a rehab facility, taken her off the streets, paying for it out of my own pocket. I had visited her every day while she was there, and soon, we fell in love. When she was released, she moved in with me in my townhouse, and the year after, we were married, and she had our daughter, Josie. For years, she stayed clean; at least I believed she was clean. Until one day three years ago, when I came home from my shift and found her. Her head rested on a pillow on the couch, her wrists were bent and fingers contracted into fists. She was rocking back and forth as if to stand up but then collapsed into the sofa. That was when I knew something was terribly wrong. She had taken heroin and fentanyl and that had caused her to stop breathing. I rushed her to the hospital, and they managed to get her to breathe on her own again. Her kidneys had failed and they had then recovered as well. But her brain had been starved of oxygen for so long that it was left severely damaged. Now, she lived in the bedroom upstairs in her new bed, while I slept on a mattress on the floor next to her, making sure I’d wake up in case she needed me.
The doctors said she would never be the same as she used to be. Still, I was determined to make the most of our time together while she was still here. But, boy, I missed hearing her voice. I missed hearing her laugh and seeing her dance with our daughter in the kitchen downstairs. I missed everything about her, but most of all, I missed looking into her deep brown eyes. I hated that she was just lying there in that bed, completely lifeless alongside a urinary catheter, pill boxes, and her feeding tube.
“There you go,” I said and wiped the last of the drool away, then tossed the napkin, biting back my tears. “You’re as good as new.”
There was a small knock on the door, and Jean, my next-door neighbor, poked her head in.
“I think Josie is ready for school soon,” she said. “I can take over and give Camille her bath now?”
I smil
ed when seeing her. Jean wasn’t only my neighbor; she was also my savior and helping hand. She was a registered nurse and helped me out with Camille as much as I needed. She was also Camille’s best friend and had been very close to her before the overdose. At least, we thought she was, but she had been every bit as surprised as I was to learn that Camille had started doing drugs again.
I walked to her and hugged her. “Thank you, Jean. You’re the best. I don’t think I would know how to get by without you. I’m sure Camille knows how much you do for her and us, and if she could, she’d thank you.”
That made her blush. “Don’t give me that,” she said and waved me away. “You’ll ruin my makeup. I just got myself ready for my shift and all the doctors I plan on flirting with today. I won’t have you ruin that. Go and take care of your daughter, and then I’ll have a look at that shiner afterward.”
End of excerpt…
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