To The Grave

Chapter Eleven

'Oh-my-god, what happened? Is she okay?'

​My lungs seize as I try to gasp in the dewy, midnight air.
My fingers clench into fists, nails digging into skin as my mouth opens instinctively wider for breath that isn't there. I stay like that for a few seconds, gaping like a fish out of water, trying to breathe but rendered completely unable. No matter how wide I open my mouth or how much I gasp, the oxygen just won't come in. An act that was so simple only a few hours ago feels impossible now – air keeps getting lost somewhere between my lips and chest, and every cell in my body burns with the need to get air and breathe.

I haven't drowned before, but this is how I imagine it feels like. It reminds me of a game Cora and I played when we went on holiday, where we'd bet on who could hold their breath for the longest beneath the lukewarm water of our hotel resort's pool. I remember the pressure I'd get in my head and how my chest would burn for a release I refused to let come.

We'd watch each other under the water, eyes narrowed against the other's, ignoring the sounds of splashes and other swimmers' legs that strayed in and out of vision. The pressure built gradually in my body, just as it is now, but no matter how much my head felt like it was going to explode, I refused to let Cora win. The pain radiating through my body now is just like the ache I got then, except more intense.

Way more intense.

In a way, I think it's because a fundamental part of me knows I have no control over this. I can't watch my sister swim to the surface and quickly follow suit, breathing in the humid air from the impending thunderstorm. No, I am at mercy to whatever this is.

And from what I can tell, it holds no mercy.

A sharp, throaty noise passes my lips and I wince at the pain it resounds in my throat, like I've just swallowed a mouthful of broken glass. Voices surround me, ones I think I recognise but can't put a picture to. Their words are rushed and incoherent, the exchange making no sense to my muddled mind. But they're talking about me – all of them are. That much I know with complete conviction. I would panic if it weren't for the pair of arms that softly encircle my body, holding me close and keeping me warm.

'You don't think he was here?' asks a panicked, female voice. 'Because if he was –'

'No,' replies a deeper one, 'I don't.'

'But –'

'Miya, no. It's fine. We're fine. Lea is going to be fine.'
I squirm as another wave of pain rushes through my body, weighing me down and stealing the very energy keeping me alive. I try to keep my lips sealed, to stay silent, but the heat pulsing through my body makes me scream.

Another voice perks up, quick and panicked. 'Someone's going to hear her.'

'Shut up, Con.'

'Arch,' says the first voice hesitantly, 'you didn't...'

'No, of course I didn't. I'm not stupid.'

'You've sure been acting stupid today,' says the other voice. 'What if –'

Whoever's speaking stops as I scream again.

The sound is primal, tearing through my throat as it leaves my lips, as though it's something other – something inside of me, alive, trying to get out, trying to escape. The pair of arms encircled around me tighten their grip impossibly harder and a breath of warmth rushes over my neck, anchoring me to the present and reminding me of maplewood and apple.

The scent brings images to the surface of my mind, images that feel familiar but I don't recognise. Flashes wash of them over me: tanned skin, blue-grey eyes, red lips. Raindrops, gliding across heated skin and falling down, down, down. A pebbled street, darkened by twilight with ancient fire lanterns lining the pavement. And a voice, soft like music, trailing through my body like it's a part of me that's been missing for years.
It's only a few seconds until the puzzle pieces fall away like feathers, sinking into the depths of my mind.

Desperate, I try to follow their trail, swimming into the darkness I'm surrounded by. But when I do, I'm shoved back into the water from ten years ago, where I find myself face-to-face with Cora.

Her image is surprisingly clear, despite the freshly poured chlorine burning my eyes. My sister looks so perfect here – her blonde hair floats effortlessly around her pixie-like face, almost ethereal like. She watches me unblinkingly, eyes beady and gaze narrowed. Her look is entirely foreign to me despite the shade of green sprinkled in her iris that matches my own. She opens her mouth and, although water surrounds us completely, my sister speaks.

Each syllable is impossibly clear, as though she's talking in an empty room. But it isn't the fact that she speaks within water that shoots goosebumps up my spine, but her voice. The knowledge that whatever voice leaves my sister's lips isn't her own.

'I've been waiting for you,' it says.

My chest immediately swells with pressure, lungs straining against my ribs. It's like I've been physically shoved, because one second I'm listening to that ancient voice leaving my sister's young, pink lips, and the next I'm back inside that unbreakable darkness, hearing the familiar voices surround me once again.

'She's going to die if we don't do anything.'

'What are we supposed to do?' The second girl: sharp and blunt. 'We can't heal her or they'll know where she is – where we are.'

'They probably already do.'

'So we're just supposed to let her die? Isn't that the complete opposite of –'

'– Would you both shut up? Look, her eyes are opening.'