Sweat covers my eyes, and my grip loosens as we approach the final bend. I'm so far ahead, the happiness embraces me, and my heart is pounding with abnormal speed. Dark, heavy clouds hang overhead, but in this final moment I can enjoy what’s coming. Looking ahead, I see people standing on the banks, cheering and screaming for me.
Then, out of the blue, time goes still, and even if I continue to row, my shell loses speed. On my right I see a man. He is waiting for me at the finish line. Terror jets through my veins and everything starts moving in a very slow motion. I'm being pulled down by a demon who rose from hell to haunt me, to end what he started. The oxygen can’t get through to my lungs, and my shell is being pulled down into the water.
I blink rapidly, seeing Christian on the other side of the river, waving. My stomach cramps with intense fear as I try to make out if that’s really him. Little darts of terror pulse through my system. I don't hear the voices of other people anymore. Now it's only me trying to pull out of that mirage of seeing him alive.
Even if I try to work my body, the darkness is closing on me, sucking me in. The tiny voice in my head tells me that it's just a hallucination, but he seems so real.
At that final moment I know he is there. Distracted by the image of my dead ex-boyfriend, my oar gets in the way and I yank it too much to the right, which turns my shell out. I dive deep into the water, his creepy laugh ringing in my mind.
Panic strikes as the shell pulls me down. Fear clenches my throat, suffocating me. I hold my breath, but I'm being pulled under the surface trying to wiggle my legs, but yet another secret comes out. No one ever taught me how to swim and I never had a chance to learn. I try to reach for the shell or the oar, but I’m blinded by the fear and panic and go down fast. It's not long before I let Christian take me. The water gets to my lungs, my heartbeat slows down, and my whole life flashes in front of my eyes. No one apart from my mum knows that I can't swim, so no one expects me to drown.
Is this how I'm going to die, right in front of everyone who came to cheer for me? I sink down, my legs and hands making feeble attempts. I can't hold my breath any longer; my head feels like it’s about to explode.
I drift into darkness.
Then I hear voices and I feel like someone is pulling me. The freezing cold air hits my lungs and I take a gulp of oxygen. My mind is fuzzy. Someone is touching me. I start coughing, spitting out the water. A lot of people are talking at the same time.
“Why did she take rowing if she couldn't swim?”
“I don't know, sir. We didn't know.”
“Krakowsky, you should have asked. This was close, too close!”
“Good that Evans reacted.”
“India, oh my God, India!”
I open my eyes and see Dora, who is leaning over me, touching my face. She is white as chalk. Then I spot Russell without a shirt, wet and breathing heavily. He stands next to me looking like he was just dragged out of water. Medics and organizers are rushing over me.
“What's going on? What happened?” I ask, trying to sit up, but someone pushes me down.
“Don't get up; just stay there for now.”
“You made a wrong move, your shell rotated, and you fell,” says an older guy that I recognise as one of the organisers. “Why didn't you say that you couldn't swim? If it wasn't for Coleman here, you would have drowned.”
Someone puts a blanket over me, medics are pushing Dora away. All of a sudden my memory comes back. My race, the competition—and Christian. The colour drains from my face, my chest heaves.
“The race?” I ask.
The coach waves his hand in the air. “Mackenzie won, just before your shell rotated. You screwed up; it was too close to the finish.”
“Don't worry about the race, India, you're alive!” says Dora. I feel as if I'm either going to float away or pass out. I keep taking long deep breaths until the blackness in my vision goes away. I look at Russell, who is smiling. I’m unable to form any kind of explanation or even a thank you. My whole world has just crashed. I hear people shouting Mackenzie’s name, others are staring at me, probably trying to figure out went wrong.
“India, you're still here. No one understood what was going on. You were pulled down so quickly,” says Dora.
I swallow my tears and slowly get up, filled with emptiness. Everything that comes after this feels like a dream. I'm told that I have to go in the ambulance to get checked out at the school clinic. Jacob and Dora are with me, but I have to pass through the crowd of people. This wasn't supposed to go wrong. I was winning it. People are staring, some of them whispering between themselves. I already know what they’re all thinking. Yet again, I proved that I'm worthless.
After the check up, I'm told that I have to take it easy for the rest of the day.
Jacob brings his car and half an hour later I'm in our apartment sitting on the sofa, trying to feel something, but that hole in my stomach is still there. I didn't even have a chance to thank Russell. He saved my life. Dora and Jacob are with me. I'm staring out the window going through the race over and over.
Christian wasn't there. I just imagined the past and created him because I was afraid to win. I thought I had put my past aside, but today I was back at that party, back in the room with him. If I walk through the campus tomorrow, people will still remember me. I'm the girl that made a fool of herself and lost the race because she couldn't handle her shell. The girl that Oliver detests because of the past.
Dora sits next to me and hands me a cup of coffee. “Drink this, you’ll feel better.”
“Thanks,” I reply.
She doesn't need to say anything for a long moment.
“You might have lost the race, but you're alive, and that’s what matters right now. You can compete again,” she assures me, looking uncomfortable.
I laugh. “I doubt that they’ll let me. I can't swim.”
“Oh come on, of course they will. Besides, you can always learn.”
“Maybe,” I say. “This is funny, isn't it? Oliver didn't even have to do anything this time. I made a fool of myself without his help.”
Dora looks away. “I have to tell you something,” she says. “Oliver was the one that reacted first. He wanted to jump in the water, but then Russell must have heard him shouting so he jumped in first.”
I turn my gaze to look at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, he wanted to dive in as soon as you went under water, like he knew straight away that you couldn't swim. He started shouting, he wanted someone to react.”
I can't comprehend what she is talking about. Oliver didn't know that I couldn't swim.
“But Russell was the one that pulled me out of the water?” I ask.
“Yeah, he was standing closer to the finish line. He didn't even hesitate.”
“Well, maybe Oliver thought if he let me die, he wouldn't have anyone else to pick on.” I laugh, trying to turn this into a joke.
Dora is quiet and it looks like she wants to say something else. It's strange because she normally can't keep her mouth shut. “Listen, there is more.”
“More?"
“Today, just before I joined Jacob by the river, I overheard them talking.”
“Them? Who is them?” I ask, feeling my stomach turn inside out. Dora is acting weird and I don't think that I want to hear the rest of this story. Maybe tomorrow, but today I’ve had enough.
“Oliver and Jacob, they were talking about you.”
My heart starts beating again, but I get up feeling a little dizzy. “Please, Dora, I don't want to hear anymore. I don't care that they were saying about me. Not today, not now.”
“Shut up, India, and listen to me. I know that you had a hell of a day, but you’ve got to hear me out. Jacob was right. Oliver is interested in you. Jacob pushed him. He wanted to know why Oliver was doing all these horrible things to you.”
“I know Oliver. He doesn't like talking about himself,” I whisper.
“He nearly punched Jacob agai
n, but then he finally admitted. Oliver was in love with you. It was probably when you were going out with his brother.”
My head starts to spin. Dora has no idea what she is talking about. I feel nauseous even thinking about what she heard. We both loved each other once, but now it seems as if we were never meant to be together, that fate isn’t on our side. “Dora, listen, I think you are getting a bit ahead of yourself. Oliver hates me.”
“He said that he doesn't love you anymore and that he will leave you alone. No more pranks, rumours, or any games. He doesn't care about the bet anymore,” she explains, looking lost. “Jacob was right all along: he couldn't have you so he decided to hurt you.”
I sit down, disappointment stabbing my heart. Her words are hurtful, but I should have expected that. He didn't want to forgive me, and he stopped loving me. I suppose it’s what I deserve for hurting him so much.
“He told Jacob that he is tired of these games. He doesn't want to be haunted by his past,” she continues. “You don't have to worry about him. He lost the bet.”
So Oliver cut me off. He won't carry on hurting me anymore because he is done with what happened after his brother died. The stupid part of it is that I prefer the pain and humiliation to what I'm going through right now. Losing him completely. Hot air rushes in and out of my chest and that hollow feeling comes back, embracing every part of my body.
Oliver will leave me alone, because he doesn't love me anymore. I should be happy and relieved, but deep down I feel like someone has died.
We are going to be further away from each other than we’ve ever been.
Chapter fifteen
Day After the Storm
Present
It takes me a few days to realise that events from the past few days weren’t just a bad dream. I can’t seem to shake off that horrible feeling in my gut that I might be slowly losing my sanity.
I know I should be strong, but I can’t stop wondering how everything has fallen apart so quickly. The race was supposed to redeem me from that terrible reputation that I took on since my arrival.
One person can only take so much, and now I think I might as well start over somewhere else, far away from Braxton.
Oliver wasn’t involved this time, but the past keeps stepping on my toes, closing up on me. It will suffocate me if I don’t let go of the grief.
While I start thinking straight, I make a decision and go back to Gargle, this time without Dora.
She has her own plans and in the end she doesn’t mind if I go back home earlier than planned. Her mother is expecting her and Jacob. There is no point in me ruining their plans for a Christmas break just because I had a bad couple of days.
I arrive home on Monday. One look at me and my mum already knows I am an emotional wreck. She knows I lost, but she doesn’t know the impact I caused on campus. As usual, she tries to act reasonable, telling me these things happen and I’m going to fight harder in my next race. She doesn’t know I might not have another chance to compete, unless I learn how to swim.
My unfortunate fall into the river will not be easily forgotten. If I decide to go back to Braxton in January, I will have to buy a mask. People will be talking about me for a while.
It was Oliver who topped off everything that happened that day. He has decided I have humiliated myself enough already, so now he can step down.
Oliver has moved past his desire for revenge—he got what he wanted—and now he is moving on. His words still buzz in my mind, and I start to wonder if there was ever anything between us.
It takes me a few days to gain the confidence to get out of the house. It’s only a week before Christmas, and this glorious Sunday morning seems like a perfect time for a quick walk.
My birthday is coming up soon, but I don’t think I can celebrate my new age this year. Being twenty doesn’t change the fact that my life is falling apart.
Gargle is a small town where everyone knows each other. A few neighbours smile as I pass by, greeting me with a friendly wave or nod. It’s been so long since I walked through these alleys—how eager I was to move far away from here.
My stomach is in knots when I think what I’m about to do. I’ve been thinking about this since the fall. There is no point in dragging out this decision.
It’s time to see Mrs. Morgan. She has to know that the son she idolised so much in the past was a psychopath. She has to understand that she created a monster and Oliver was just a victim.
Mrs. Morgan and I had an understanding on a much deeper level. She told me once that she would do anything to crush the wall that had been building up between Oliver and her. All I want is for him to forgive me, and if I can help him connect with his mother again, then he might change his mind about us. I already know our feelings are long forgotten, but he still holds a grudge against me, and this time it’s all about him forgiving what I’ve done.
This is my new therapy. If I get this terrible secret off my chest and bring mother and son closer, then I can close that part of my life forever. My redemption will be complete, and in the end, we can both go our separate ways.
Twenty minutes later, I stand in front of a white door and hesitate. Black thoughts start piling up in my mind, but after a long moment of silence, I take a deep breath and knock.
Last time, it took me a year to face this house again, but in the end I did it. Now I have to take one more step and just get this off my chest. Mrs. Morgan is going to be the first person for now. She can control her illness, but will she understand that her son was cruel and manipulative?
Soon, the door opens and Mrs. Morgan stands in the doorway, looking astonished at seeing me.
“Oh my God, India. What are you doing here?”
“Christmas break,” I explain, smiling.
“Of course, I should have thought so,” she mutters, hugging me tightly. “But this is not like you. I normally get the phone call at least a day in advance.”
Mrs. Morgan is right. It’s always been like that. I make the phone call and then later I show up at her door. Then we talk. I keep telling myself I’m here because of me, not Oliver, but the fear of falling creeps under my skin, corrupting my calm thoughts. It’s never easy to share the secret.
“I arrived a few days ago, earlier than I originally planned. I really wanted to talk to you, and I forgot to call,” I explain as we walk inside. The house hasn’t changed and it’s been a while since I’ve been here. Bad, gloomy memories squirm back to me like sticky, slimy worms. It seems as if Christian’s soul never left this house.
My stomach heaves and I think I might start screaming, so I close my eyes for a few seconds.
He isn’t here. It’s just your imagination.
“You must be starving. Come on to the kitchen. I made a stew, your favourite.” She beams. Mrs. Morgan looks incredibly well for a person that went through a major nervous breakdown a year ago. Her black, shiny hair is cut by her shoulders; her skin looks healthy. She wears full makeup, and her clothes are more defined. The new medication and therapy are obviously working.
“Thank you, Mrs. Morgan, but I have to say no. I came here for a reason. I need to talk to you,” I say, standing by the table and ignoring that sorrowful feeling in my stomach. She narrows her eyes, studying my face, always trying to guess what I might come up with next. Mrs. Morgan has no idea that Oliver isn’t living in Scotland anymore. She has no idea he has been studying in Braxton all this time.
“India, come on. Don’t be so serious. I don’t think I like you like that,” she says.
“It’s about Oliver,” I say.
Her eyes darken with a shadow of regret, but I have her full attention now.
“What about Oliver? You know, I don’t think we should talk about him since he made it clear he doesn’t want to know me,” she explains, looking away.
“He’s in Braxton.”
Mrs. Morgan shakes her head, smoothing the edges of her skirt nervously.
“No, India. Why would Oliver be in Braxton? He’s in
Edinburgh… I tried to call him, but his number is no longer active.”
“You don’t get it. Oliver isn’t in Scotland. He’s studying with me in Braxton,” I insist, but Mrs. Morgan looks angry.
“I don’t appreciate you making this sort of cruel joke.”
“Mrs. Morgan, please. Oliver is on his second year in Braxton, studying Sports and Management. Please, I’m not lying. I think he was in Scotland at first, but then he must have changed his mind.”
Her eyes dart away like she’s trying to push past memories from when she wasn’t in control.
“But… I don’t understand—”
“That’s why I’m here, so I can help you understand. It’s a long story and I’m the centre of all of that. He moved to Braxton because he knew I would eventually show up there.”
Mrs. Morgan still doesn’t get what I’m trying to tell her and she won’t for some time. It’s time to reveal the secret that I’ve been hiding for over two years. The secret that destroyed not only my life, but also Oliver’s. I start from the beginning and tell her that I was never in love with her dead son. I run through that first day at school when I first saw Christian and Oliver together.
My voice trembles, and she keeps interrupting, but I’m determined to continue.
Mrs. Morgan is here to listen. I know she might be suffering hearing the truth about her beloved son, but his behaviour cannot be forgotten. It’s part of the healing process, and she has to know what was happening inside her home.
It takes me more than an hour and a river of tears to go through the events of that night. My whole body is shaking while I describe bit by bit what was happening in the attic.
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