33
TRIGENTA TRES
Finn
The rain pelting me by the ocean is cold, and the wind blows it into my eyes.
IgnoreItIgnoreIt.
I do. But I try and ignore the voices too. It’s the story of my life.
They woke me up from my nap and I know what I have to do.
It’sAlmostTimeAlmostTimeAlmostAlmostAlmost.
Yeah, I have to agree. It’s almost time.
I’ve hidden the secret for so long, it’s eating at me, clawing to get out and I almost can’t keep it inside anymore.
I grip the St. Michael’s medallion firmly in my hand and walk into the water, straight out without pause.
DoItDoItDOITDoItDo.
Do it.
I dive under the waves and swim straight down. It’s at least twenty feet down and the water grows murky before I see the faded red paint of the car. I swim to it, my oxygen already starting to run out, and stick my head through the open passenger door.
Reaching my hand in, I hang the necklace on the rearview mirror. It dangles in the water, twisting and turning in the murk.
St. Michael’s face seems to mock me.
Protect me? I think not.
My lungs feel hot and swollen, so I push off, away from the car toward the surface. I burst through with a cough, the sun on my face as though I’d never left.
Breathe.
I do. I take deep hacking breaths and then pull myself out of the water onto the damp sand of the beach. I look back out at the choppy surface.
No one would ever know what lies beneath that water.
You can’t see it.
But I know.
I know.
I know.
I know.
But Calla doesn’t.