A quick warning. I did not have a beta for this story so please continue with that in mind.
HG characters and elements don't belong to me.
I slam the screen door behind me, but I know it makes no difference. My aunt wouldn't have noticed that I did it or that I'm leaving without telling her where I'm going, even if she were here.
When my mother and father died four years ago, she was the only family I had left to take me in. She reminds me that I should be grateful to have a roof over my head—even if the roof belongs to her latest "friend"—and clothes on my back—bought by her latest "friend"—but other than that, it's clear I'm alone in the world. There are times when the loneliness gets to me and I ask for us to spend time together, only to have her explain to me in great detail, with that sickeningly sweet voice of hers, how she doesn't have the time, that there are very important matters for her to attend to.
"Chin up, up up," she tells me when I sulk at her answer, ending her speech with a rousing pep-talk about how lucky I am that her latest male friend will take us shopping.
At the moment, we're staying in his house that's only walking distance from the beach. This current "friend" of hers has the habit of glancing in my direction a little too often. During meals, his hand slips onto my knee under the table, and I've learned quickly not to jump at his touch but merely slide my legs in the opposite direction beyond his easy reach. It's a harder task than most would think because my aunt constantly reminds me that the position isn't lady-like. "Back straight, elbows off the table, and legs and feet under it."
It's nights like these, when my aunt is out handling her "very important matters" all the while leaving me alone with him, that I have to leave the house. He seems to catch me whenever I go to the bathroom, lurking at the door to stand in my way as I try to exit. He's always too close, his eyes are always too focused on my chest or my rear.
The sun is setting and I usually don't like to go to the beach at night, but I prefer that over him any time.
By the time I make it to the beach, the sun's kissing the horizon. It's light plays against the waves in shimmers, something beautiful to see, helping me forget why I'm here in the first place. Not many are out at the moment, preferring to be in their homes with the families who love them and want them. I see their lights from inside their houses, and they make me wonder if my family could have been one of them if my parents hadn't died or even if my aunt cared just a little bit.
The thought makes me return my focus to the horizon, to the water, because those thoughts only lead to that hollow feeling in my chest and tear-streaked cheeks.
Something in the water catches my eye, a break in the shimmers skittering over the water. It looks like someone swimming, but who would be that foolish to swim so far out at nightfall? As quickly as it appeared it was gone. I watch the spot for any signs of the swimmer, but there's none.
My periphery catches another break in the water closer to where I am on the beach, a distance too far for a swimmer to cross so quickly, so I disregard it as aquatic life of some sort, perhaps even a dolphin or a shark. Just as I'm ready to turn my head, I see arms flailing from the surface of the water. There's no doubt that it's a swimmer drowning, panicking. If I had time to think it through, I would have come to the life preserving conclusion that rushing out there to help them would only risk my life as well as theirs. That swimming at night without the lifeguards present is just asking for trouble. These are the things I would have thought about if I had the time to think it through, but I don't.
I rush out into the water with only the thought that someone's dying before my eyes, and I have to help them. I'm not the best swimmer, but I manage to make it to the spot I think I'd seen the arms.
There's no sign of the swimmer, no sign of anything but me surrounded by water and the sun steadily disappearing. The lights in the houses are my only guide back to the beach, but again, my periphery catches movement. It's something dark in the water that slithers towards me, reaching it's tentacles out for me. The fear I feel is transformed into action as I swim faster than I ever have before. The lights at the beach grow larger as I get closer, but I chance a look behind me to see the tentacles catching up no matter how fast I swim.
It catches my ankle first, wrapping around my feet and up my legs. I instinctively reach for whatever it is that's holding me to free the lower half of my body, but it's no use. It feels like slippery foliage tangled everywhere, and the more I fight it, the more I sink. It covers everything up to my lower ribs, but doesn't stop there, weaving upward until my arms and chest are covered as well.
I can't breathe, but I don't know if it's because I can't bring myself to breathe in the water and let death come or because the seaweed is constricting my chest. I just know that I'm sinking and I can't stop it. And then the sun disappears.