I wish that were the case.
For me, I see the total opposite. As death rears its ugly head, I don’t see my past. Instead, I see my future. The future I’m never going to experience. The future that’s being stolen from me, even though I’d do anything to make it all come true.
I watch with fascination as it all plays out in slow motion, a sick, cruel, tormenting reminder of what I’ll be missing. But still, I can’t look away.
I see him pressing me up against that kitchen counter for the first time, telling me how much he wants me—he needs me. How he’ll always cherish me.
I see us sitting on the swing on our front porch, sipping iced tea as we listen to the crickets chirp, enjoying the silence as our thighs graze, a slow, easy foreplay for what is soon to come.
Visions of a swaddled baby, with his daddy’s piercing, blue eyes, nestled in my arms, with the love of my life gazing down at us, affection all over his face, flash through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. That one hurts just a little more than most.
White picket fences. Yellow nurseries. My favorite lilies adorning the kitchen counter just because he wants to make me feel special.
Sippy cups. Messy hair. Exhaustion that is never too much for beautiful lovemaking with my gorgeous future husband.
For a split second, it’s as if I’m living it, all of these moments, and I reach my arms out, trying to hang on for dear life so that all those moments can come to be.
And as the water rushes in, I cling to those thoughts, but they’re ripped away when I realize I need to fight like hell to survive.
The memory of long-ago swimming lessons and Coach Hamilton’s words come back at the right time, and I close my eyes for a split second, trying to regroup. Trying to coach myself through this.
You can do this, Brie. Just relax. You are strong. You can do anything, especially survive. You’ve never been meant to die. Surviving is what you do. Surviving is what you will do.
Exhale.
Inhale slowly.
Hold.
Exhale.
Inhale slowly.
Hold.
Do not panic.
Whatever you do, do not panic.
Remain calm.
Breathe out.
Breathe in slowly.
Hold.
Cough.
Sputter.
Gasp.
Sink.
Panic.
People can tell you the steps of how to breathe when you’re under the threat of drowning, but until you’re in that dire situation, you have no idea how easily all rational thought evaporates from even the most logical mind.
All I know is that the sand in the hourglass signifying my life is quickly emptying, and I know I don’t have much time. Every moment counts. I can’t afford to panic, yet every instinct inside me wants to do just that. Even as the water rises, tormenting and relentless, the desire to take a breath is tantalizing, intensifying with each second I go without air. Spots cloud my vision, my mind dizzy with the crushing need to breathe. Instinct tells me that must hold on a little longer, but it’s too late. The overwhelming desire to suck in a breath is irresistible, and even though my brain is sending impulses screaming no, my mouth inevitably opens.
Water rushes in, invading my mouth, a vicious army surging in and ready for war, my body unwilling to fight even the first battle. It’s inevitable. This is really it. That beautiful future will never happen now, all the fight in me is gone.
Out of nowhere, light flickers beyond my closed eyelids. For a moment, I think it’s the bright one that awaits every death. But soon I realize it’s different. It has a reddish hue, weaving back and forth, almost like a flashlight. It’s beacon of hope from beyond the confines of my watery tomb, giving me renewed strength. My eyes burst open, seeking refuge and spotting the last tiny pocket of unsubmerged space, yet no longer seeing any sign of light. Did I imagine it? Was that just one last cruel joke before death takes me?
Struggling, I swim until my head comes above water, coughing, sputtering, and then ultimately cursing myself for only delaying the inevitable as the water rises all around me. I shouldn’t have bothered with the phantom light. This would’ve been over already. I’d be with my parents, the job finally finished once and for all.
You weren’t supposed to live.
As I take one last gasping breath, water covers me, and I know the end is near. All those visions of my future were a fluke. I’ll never live them. I’ll never experience having a family, being a wife or a mother. I’ll never know the truth.
This is it. This is the end, and I will never have the answers I seek.
Now, I just have more questions.
How could I have been so blind?
How could he have done this me?
Why did he do this to me, and who, exactly, was he protecting me from?
And most of all, where is my savior now, and what will he do when he learns the truth?
Who the hell is Rafe Matthews? If you’re wondering, you won’t have to wait long to find out. Book 2, Escalation, will be out late summer 2015. Make sure to follow me on social media for updates on the release and teasers. In the meantime, check out this sneak peek!
Rafe, you should know . . .
Those three little dots told me everything, and I couldn’t let her say it. Not until the truth was out in the open between us. No, when she told me whatever she wanted me to know, it’d be to my face, using her words, because there was no way in hell I was letting anything happen to her. Not on my watch.
I slam my hand against the wheel, pissed beyond belief that I let this happen. By the time I figured out Morningstar was back in town, I was too damn late. Now, as I glance to my right to the screen tracking them, I push my foot on the accelerator, weaving in and out of traffic, not giving a fucking damn about anything except getting closer to them. The police scanner squawks, and my blood runs cold as it details a high-speed chase in progress. My breath catches as I wait to hear the description of the offending vehicle, hoping like hell it’s not them.