The Souls of Drowned People

Chapter Eleven

Almost to 200 reads on this, you guys are amazing! I hope this chapter makes up for leaving you on cliffhangers with the last few, and I'd love to hear your feedback on this, since sometimes (scratch that: most of the time) things that make sense in my head don't make sense to anyone else, and I just want to make everything as clear as possible with this story. Thanks, and enjoy!

~Elle

Before I realized that the ground was coming up to meet me, Cillian jumped up and put his arms around me, keeping me on my feet. He snapped something at Bridget, rocking me gently in his arms.

            All I felt was the harsh rocking of the waves. I couldn’t feel the warmth of his hands, only Ronan. Cillian stroked my hair and mumbled something softly, encouraging, but all I heard was Tara screaming and Ronan barking and because your mother promised that you would.

            “How long?” I asked. “How long ago did she make this promise?” For how many years, had my life meant nothing to her? How long ago did she stop loving me? How long had I been doomed, cursed, dying, nothing?

            I thought I was asking questions, but only whimpers were coming from between my lips. Everything had shut down, my legs were locked and my mind was frozen and my heart was numb.

            “Years ago,” Cillian said, and held me tighter. “Before you were born.”

            My mother never loved me. I was born a promise to the selkies, not as her own child, but as a promise to someone else. It would have been better if she had scooped me up right away, still bloody and screaming, and tossed me out to the selkies before I had time to live. But she let me taste life, let me love it, let me have Cillian and Chelsea, all the while knowing that someday, this was going to happen.

            “I hate her,” I whispered. “She never told me . . . why? She’s my mother! Why?”

            Rachael put her hand on my shoulder. “Moira, everything your mother did, she did out of love.”

            “Ma, give her a moment!” Cillian hissed. “She doesn’t care about that right now. Are you doing okay, Moira?” His voice sounded faraway. Like I was floating downward, sinking, drowning.

            Dragging him down . . .

            “No, no, Cillian, don’t touch me!” I pushed him away, slapping desperately at his hands when he reached back for me. “They’re going to kill you. The selkies. I saw it in my dream. Please. Stop.”

            “What? That’s ridiculous, Moira. The selkies don’t care about me.” He reached for my hand again. I kicked him in the shin, with enough force that he yelped something in Irish that made his mother shoot him a scolding look. He leaned against the table, rubbing his leg. “I think you three should go to bed,” he said to his parents and Bridget, his teeth clenched.

            Bridget ran over to Cillian, wrapping her arms around him. Her eyes were wide and helpless, and it was something in that look that drew me back to reality. I wasn’t the only one in this situation. Awful things, Bridget said. Awful things would happen if I didn’t join the selkies. Everyone was in danger, the Connellys most of all, once Tara went crying back to town with the story of how they were sheltering the seal girl.

            “Go to sleep, Bridget,” Cillian said soothingly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

            She wouldn’t let go of him. “You need to listen to Moira. What she said about her dream, you need to listen to her. I don’t want you to die. Please don’t die.”