by Tara Sivec
“I’ve worked here for two years,” he replies.
“I already knew that. It doesn’t answer my question. How did you know I couldn’t swim?”
He doesn’t look away from me and even though it makes me uncomfortable to be stared at so openly, it also makes me feel like he won’t lie to me. People seem to look away from me when they tell me things I find difficult to believe.
“There aren’t that many of us who work here at the prison,” he begins. “We’re a pretty tight group since we work with each other all day, every day, and a couple of the guys have been here a lot longer than me. People hear things, people talk. Most of it is stupid bullshit gossip. Someone mentioned one time how weird it was that you were so afraid of the water and how you’d never go anywhere near the lake.
He shrugs easily, like it’s no big deal the people who work here talk about me behind my back.
“So you knew from workplace gossip?” I scoff.
“Initially, yes. But I asked you a few weeks ago if it was true and you told me so yourself. Something about an accident when you were little. Five, I think. You didn’t tell me much, just that you’ve been petrified of water ever since.”
My arms drop to my sides while I mull this over. Something seems familiar about what he’s telling me. I don’t know if it’s because some part of me remembers it, or because I remember telling him. I just know, deep down inside, that there was something that happened in water when I was little. I don’t know why it feels right, it just does. It also leaves me with more questions. Why can I see myself swimming? Why, when I close my eyes, can I almost feel the water sluicing against my skin, feel my muscles burn as I do laps, know exactly what it feels like to pull my arms through the water and exactly what it looks like to open my eyes when I’m under there? How do I just instinctively know what all of this feels like and looks like if I it’s not true? It’s the same kind of thing with my stupid braided hair and all of the ugly dresses in my closet. I just know when it’s not right, when it feels alien.
“Why did you look at me like you hated me that day you dropped off flowers for my father?” I ask next. Clearly if I we had personal conversations before the accident, he must not have hated me that much.
He looks away from me, but I see his cheeks redden and I know it’s from embarrassment and not because he’s crafting a lie.
“What do you want me to tell you, Ravenna?” he whispers as he stares down at his feet and kicks a stray rock away with the toe of his work boot.
“I want you to tell me the truth!” I shout at him, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “My parents have done nothing but lie to me these last few days and I’m sick and tired of it. I guess I just assumed that you were different. I figured that someone who would save a girl from drowning herself might actually be a good guy.”
He runs a hand nervously through his hair and puffs out a huge breath of air through his lips. I’m immediately hit with a memory of kissing him. It was dark outside and we were on the front porch. There was lightning off in the distance and the night was hot and muggy. His lips were soft and like nothing I’d ever felt before. I remember doing it because I knew it was wrong and that excited me. I was angry. So angry. Filled with so much hatred that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hit him or kiss him. I went with the kiss and instead of it making me feel better, it only made me madder because I liked it so much. I didn’t want to like it. I did it to prove a point and it all backfired. I remember slamming the door in his face, laughing at the shock on it.
“Jesus,” he mutters, interrupting my thoughts and pulling my eyes away from his lips. “Okay, fine. You want to know the truth? The truth is, I’ve had kind of a thing for you for two years and you’ve never given me the time of day that entire time. That is, up until two weeks ago. All of a sudden, you started seeking me out when I was working. I should have known something was off, but I was too damn happy that you were finally talking to me. You were so different from the girl I’d been watching from afar for two years. Different from the rumors I’d heard and the things I’d seen with my own eyes.”
“Different how?” I whisper, unsure if I want him to answer since I’m starting to realize that I might have been a really awful person before all of this happened.
“I don’t know, just different. Your hair was always perfectly done and your dresses were always perfectly pressed. You walked around with your nose up in the air like you were better than everyone,” he informs me.
“Well, that explains why you had a crush on me. I sound like a wonderful person,” I reply sarcastically.
“Ravenna, I’m a guy. And you are very, very beautiful. My crush was only skin deep, believe me.”
That makes me feel so much better.
“Until two weeks ago,” he continues. “Then you were just…completely different than what I thought. You wore your hair down whenever you came to see me and you always had on jeans and a t-shirt, like right now. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was a complete loser not worthy of your time. It was definitely weird that you started doing this out of the blue, but I wasn’t about to question it. I liked spending time with you. I guess I was pissed that day I dropped off the flowers because, all of a sudden, you were back to being the snobby girl with the perfect hair and the perfect clothes. And you clearly wanted nothing to do with me all over again.”
I can’t even be happy about the beautiful comment or that he liked spending time with me. I’m too busy being stuck on the fact that I was a huge snob. I was mean and I was a snob.
“And so you just naturally assumed I was faking a brain injury so I wouldn’t have to own up to treating you like a human being for the first time in two years,” I reply sarcastically. “That’s just wonderful.”
He takes a step toward me and he’s so close that I have to crane my neck to look up at him. His eyes are the most gorgeous shade of blue I’ve ever seen and I have a hard time looking away from them. I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for someone to look at me like I mean something to them and it makes my stomach churn and fills me with anger that I never got what I deserved. I deserved a good life, I deserved to be loved, and it’s not fair that the only thing I ever got was pain.
That thought…those words ringing in my head are so familiar that it makes my chest ache. I know those thoughts are true and something I believe with all of my heart. Something I cried and screamed and raged about for so long that it became my mantra, my way of life, and something I knew I would spend the rest of my life feeling because there would never be any escape from the pain.
I take a step away from Nolan and close my eyes, trying to picture myself saying these things. Trying to envision my surroundings and what would make me feel so desolate, but all I see is the darkness behind my eyelids.
“If it makes you feel any better, I definitely prefer the way you look right now,” Nolan says softly as I reopen my eyes to look at him.
“And how is that?” I whisper.
He shrugs, sliding his hands back into his pockets. “You look like you. Not like you’re trying to be someone else.”
It’s the most perfect thing he could have said to me right now and it gives me hope that I’m not crazy for feeling off whenever I look in the mirror. Since Nolan seems to have no problem being honest with me even if what he has to say brings him some embarrassment, I move on to one last question.
“How well do you know Ike Jenson?”
Nolan flinches at the mention of Ike’s name.
“He’s been here since I started, keeps to himself a lot. Why?” Nolan asks, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.
“My father mentioned something about how he hasn’t been to work in a few days and I wondered if that was typical for him.”
His eyes narrow and he cocks his head to the side while he thinks about what I’ve said. “You know, now that you mention it, he hasn’t been here since the day you got hurt. I’ve been so busy around here that I didn�
�t even think about it until you said something.”
I don’t believe in coincidences. Especially after remembering the conversation I overheard with Ike and my father that night. I start walking away from Nolan, my mind already moving in hyper-speed as I plan what to do next.
Nolan grabs onto my hips to stop me, turning my body back around to face him. For just one moment I wish I could be a normal teenager and appreciate the man holding onto me, flirt with him, and enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, I’m not a normal girl, and I’m pretty sure I never will be.
“If he comes back, stay away from him, Ravenna. That guy is bad news,” Nolan warns.
I laugh as I step away from him once more, missing the comfort of his hands on my body as soon as they fall away.
“Funny, that’s exactly what my father said about you.”
I walk away from him without another word and he lets me go this time. As I make my way back to the prison alone, I step through the doors feeling a little better than I did when I ran out of them earlier.
“My name is Ravenna Duskin. I’m eighteen years old, I live in a prison, and I’m finished being the girl my parents want me to be.”
Chapter 9
Stop fighting, stop splashing, just go under and let go.
The water churns angrily with each uncoordinated swipe of an arm, trying to reach for something to help, something to grab ahold of, but it’s no use. There’s nothing that will help, nothing that will save you.
Just go under. It will all be over soon if you just go under.
The cold water covers chin, mouth, nose, wide, frightened eyes and then…gone.
That’s it, disappear, go away, everyone will be happier if you just go away. Don’t listen to the screams and the shouts because they won’t get here in time. They won’t be able to take the pain away; they’ve NEVER been able to take the pain away. It will be so much better if you don’t exist.
Swallow the water, breathe it in, close your eyes and just slip away. It will only hurt for a moment, and then you’ll be free.
Don’t you want to be free from the pain? Free from the evil that lurks inside your head and follows you everywhere you go?
They don’t want to save me; they just want me to disappear.
I’ll show them what it’s like to lose it all; I’ll make them regret it.
Let yourself sink to the bottom¸ let them see what happens when they close their eyes and ignore the pain they caused.
Breathe it in, swallow the water, let your lungs fill until they burst, and show them.
Show them what happens when you try to hide secrets.
Show them that death is the only way to escape the pain of what they’ve done.
They brought this on themselves. Their hope, their future, their secrets…sinking to the bottom of the lake, dying right in front of their eyes…
Stop fighting.
Just let go.
It will all be over soon.
With a loud gasp, my eyes fly open, and I stumble backward, my head whipping around frantically as I stare at my surroundings. Digging the heels of my palms into my eyes, I rub the sleep from them before looking around once more. There’s nothing but darkness around me, aside from the bright full moon reflecting off the surface of the lake.
Why am I at the lake in the middle of the night?
Staring down the front of my body, I see that I’m still wearing the pink cotton nightgown I put on before bed. My bare feet stand on the rickety wood at the end of the dock and they’re wet, covered in dew and damp blades of grass from walking across the property to get here, and I realize I must have been sleepwalking. The humidity in the air covers my skin in a thin sheen of sweat and as I stare out at the moonlit lake, the cool water calls to me. The quiet peacefulness of the night, filled only with the sounds of chirping crickets and croaking bullfrogs, distracts me from the scary thought that I wandered down here alone in the middle of the night while I slept.
What if I’d fallen in? What if I’d jumped in? I’m out here alone, in the middle of the night, and my parents would never know I was down here because they assume I’m asleep in my bed, safe and tucked in where I’m supposed to be. They wouldn’t hear me scream from this far away and they wouldn’t be able to save me. I think about my dream, a memory of the accident I’ve been told about that happened when I was little and the cause for me being afraid of water and never learning how to swim. My heated body suddenly gets a chill and I wrap my arms around myself. Maybe they were right. Maybe they didn’t lie to me about this one thing. Looking out at the dark water, I can see myself sinking under, my eyes wide with panic as the water covers my mouth and my nose, but I don’t feel afraid. In my dream it felt like I was outside of my body, looking down at myself, urging that little girl to let the water take her. I feel excitement coursing through me as I picture that day and see myself disappear beneath the water. Happiness overwhelms me knowing it will all be over soon and the pain will finally stop.
I stare out at the rippling water as fish move beneath the surface. The light from the moon slowly begins to disappear as a cloud moves in front of it. I’m still groggy from sleep and on edge knowing I walked down here alone in the middle of the night without remembering doing it, but I still have an unnatural urge to jump into the water. I want to know without a shadow of a doubt which of my memories is real. I immediately shake the thought from my mind. Even half asleep, I’m still not stupid enough to do something so foolish. I will not put my life at risk just to test out a theory to prove I’m right, no matter how much I want to.
Lifting my foot to take a step back from the edge of the dock, something hard suddenly slams into my back with enough force to make me lose my balance. I don’t have time to scream; I don’t have time to turn my head. I can do nothing but windmill my arms through the air as I pitch forward into nothingness. I gasp in fear and shock when my body hits the cool water, swallowing a mouthful as I go under. I’m immediately swallowed by darkness as I sink to the bottom like a rock. I open my mouth to scream and more water flows inside, into my lungs and up my nose. I forget everything but the dream and the need to let go and allow the darkness to take me. I forget to fight; I forget to move my arms and legs, and I forget the pain. There’s no pain down here at the bottom of the lake. There’s no confusion, no lying, no secrets…nothing but silence and freedom from everything that hurts.
“Bad girls get what they deserve. It’s time for you to let go and accept what you are. There’s no saving you, and there never will be.”
I don’t want this. I don’t deserve this. I can’t let it end this way—it’s not fair. I’ve always been a fighter and I won’t let them win. I can’t let them win. My lungs are on fire and my body feels numb, but I refuse to give up. I force my mind back into focus and concentrate, letting my adrenaline and instinct kick in. I start scissoring my legs and pushing my arms through the water. As my body slowly begins to lift from the bottom of the lake, determination flows through me, as I access an ability that I now know I have. My arms glide through the water with efficient, perfectly executed breaststrokes as my legs kick harder and faster behind me, propelling me upwards so fast that my head breaks the surface within seconds. I cough and spit out the water from my lungs, my legs in constant motion to keep my head above water.
Pain radiates from the middle of my back as I continue moving my limbs, reminding me that I wasn’t alone out here in the middle of the night. Someone followed me…pushed me.
I continue treading water, pushing and pulling my hands through the lake around my body, kicking harder with my legs to spin myself in a circle. I search the edge of the entire lake, the dock a few feet away, and the path back to the prison. I look for a face hiding in the trees or a glimpse of someone running away, finding nothing but empty land and shadows. My eyes have grown used to the darkness of night but it’s hard to see much of anything out here. Yet I know someone is there. I can feel eyes watching me, hiding in the shadows where my vision can’t penetrate. L
et the bastard watch. See that I can’t be gotten rid of this easily. Realize that all that was accomplished by pushing me into the lake was to wake up the corner of my mind that remembers that being in the water makes me feel alive.
Dunking my head backward to smooth my tangled hair out of my face, I twist over onto my stomach and easily slide my arms through the water, right, left, right, keeping my face tilted to the side so I can breathe as I glide smoothly to the east bank of the lake. A few feet before the edge, I dive under, flipping and twisting, pushing off the muddy bottom until I’m zooming back up to the surface in the opposite direction. I swim hard, and I swim perfectly, like I’ve been doing it all my life, because clearly I have. I swim until the adrenaline from fighting for my life quickly fades away, and I have a hard time keeping my eyes open, even though I want nothing more than to stay in the water forever. I let the sounds of my arms and legs splashing through the water soothe me as I swim to the end of the dock and pull myself up, collapsing on my back on the uneven panels of wood. I gaze up at the stars as I catch my breath, no longer caring if someone is out there watching me, no longer afraid of whoever lurks in the shadows.
“My name is Ravenna Duskin. I’m eighteen years old, I live in a prison, and these secrets and lies will not kill me; they will only make me stronger.”
Chapter 10
Sneaking quietly back upstairs to my bedroom, I strip out of my sopping wet nightgown and hide it at the bottom of my dirty clothes hamper. Throwing on a dry gown, I grab a towel from the bathroom and tiptoe back downstairs, wiping up the trail of puddles and wet footprints I left behind. I realize what I’m doing is not normal behavior. I know that a normal eighteen-year-old girl, after being shoved by someone into a lake and almost drowning, a week after she suffered an unexplained accident in the woods, would probably be scared to death, running right to her parents and waking them up so they could make everything better.