Trust Issues

Chapter 17

I felt like I was watching myself from afar in the days, weeks, and months that followed. I cycled through almost every stage of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—it was like clockwork. The final stage never really sunk in, though. I felt stuck in the first four stages. One minute, I wanted to scream until my lungs bled and cry until I had no voice left.

The next, I thought about how I desperately wanted to talk to Raina. After the shocking revelation, I realized how broken I'd become—how wretched and cruel—and how Raina would hate me if she were here. I hated myself. I buckled under every vile, hateful thought I'd ever had about myself.

Wretched. Cruel. Broken. Weak. Coward. I wished I could outscream, outcry the hollowness gnawing at my bones, festering in my heart.

Every time I woke drenched and gasping for water from the recurring nightmare, I had to remind myself that the sweat on my body was just that—sweat—and not the blood of Raina's twin. Whenever I bothered to look at myself in the mirror, I had to remind myself that it was me and not the dead, unseeing eyes of Raina's twin. Gods, I couldn't even think her name, much less voice it.

I hardly saw anyone in my haze of grief and shame. All I could think about was... her. It wasn't until I felt my chest hitch that I realized I was crying. Great, heaving sobs tore from my chest, the sounds equivalent to my soul cleaving in half.

I had no recollection of what happened following the mermaid's death. Everything after seeing her body sink to the seafloor was a blur. Judging from the state of my body and clothes, Mom had carried me to bed and washed the blood from my hands, face, neck, and arms.

I had no idea how long it had been since then, but judging from the multiple trays of shrimp and bubble tea left untouched on my side table, I assumed at least a week had passed. I lowered my face into my hands, muffling my scream, which slowly morphed into a broken sob. I didn't feel anything—no grief, no shame, no hatred. My gaze was blank, my tear-filled eyes hollow as I stared at nothing.

When the knock sounded on my door, I didn't open my mouth. Couldn't muster up the energy to lift my head. I heard the door creak open, black hair filling my vision as the merman swam inside our room. "Faye?" His voice was gentle and filled with worry, making me cry harder. I didn't deserve that worry, that pity. Nor did I deserve the love and compassion that came with it.

My sobs turned into hiccuping gasps, which slowly morphed into pathetic-sounding whimpers. As I felt my brother sit on the side of the bed and reach for me, I shied away. Not so much from fear but from shame. "N-no." The word was broken and weak.

It was barely more than a push of breath, but it didn't deter Drew. He wordlessly pulled me into his arms, gripping me tightly despite the blows I rained upon his gut. The residual shame and anger festering in me came rushing out of me when my fist slammed into his stomach.

Blow upon blow, his grip never loosened; he never grunted or showed any pain. "Let it out, Faye," he murmured, his words soothing despite the pain that filled them. "Just let it out."

After a while, I stopped hearing his words—stopped feeling his arms around me. I even stopped feeling the shame and anger building inside me. I felt numb. It shocked me at first, but then I welcomed it. If it meant a reprieve from the unending torment I'd been experiencing, I would do anything.

I didn't deserve to feel anything—positive or negative. I deserved the endless spiral of nothingness I'd subjected myself to since what happened. No matter what Zander had done—no matter the situation I'd found myself in—it didn't change the fact that another mermaid was dead because of me. I was the one who'd plunged that dagger into her heart; I was the one who had to live for the rest of my life with the image of the light leaving her eyes.