Blue

High Tide

The beach was nearly empty. There was an older, silver-haired man sitting solemnly on the rocks and a short woman walking along the edge of the water, but they were the only people on the beach, and Adam had no interest in them. He plopped down on the sand, his knees close to his chest. The sand was hot, almost unbearably so, but he relished in the feeling of it burning his legs. Soon, the sun would dip beneath the tide and

He couldn't stand this feeling in his veins, burning like venom, like the snake of Blue's death was eating him alive, swallowing him whole. He had never told anyone, but he hated the beach. The beach had brought him nothing but misery. His earliest memory was wandering this beach, searching endlessly for his parents, who were never going to come home. Was he so unlucky? Was his misfortune so great that this stupid beach town was going to rip everyone he loved from him? First his parents, so long ago. Then Blue. His Grandmother was old, she had no choice but to leave him. He knew that it was coming regardless of whether he wanted it to. She could barely tell him from his father sometimes. Who was next? Chase? Would Chase leave him too, sacrificed to this stupid beach town with its stupid traditions and stupid tourists like everyone else in Adam's life had been?

He stared out into the waves, staring blankly at the expanse of blue and green and white. Up and down. Crest and break and crest and break. And there, at the edge, near the horizon-

He shot up from his position in the sand. Was that Blue? There was no way. He thought he saw her head, far out, near the horizon. He scrambled closer to the waves. Why would she be here, so far away in the waves? Was that her he had seen?

"Blue?" he whispered. He could have sworn he had seen her. Had she been surfing? Had she gotten pulled out so far that she had had to live on her surfboard, catching fish to eat with the string of her bathing suit and a glittering earring? He had read stories about people doing that before. Was that her? Had he seen her?

"Blue?"

He had to check. He had to get closer. He was stomping roughly through the waves before he had time to even figure out what he was doing. He kicked his shoes off behind him, not bothering to see where they landed, if the tide had sucked them up and eaten them. He had to know if it was her. Was it Blue? Had he seen her out in the waves? The water shook his frame as it slammed into him. He had gone out blindly, not bothering to wait for a spot in the waves that would have been an easy entrance to the sea. It didn't matter, he spat the water from his mouth and struggled against the wave. He had to get forwards. She had been so far out. He had seen the sun illuminate her hair, her face. She was out here.

"Blue! Blue!" He was spitting out so much water. He was struggling forwards. It was fine; he had always been a strong swimmer, he could make it to her if he just tried. He had seen her, he would swear on everything he had seen her. He swam forwards, closer and closer to the horizon, where he had seen her.

"BLUE!" He was screaming her name at the top of his lungs. Where was she?

The water was stretching around him in every direction. The beach was a tiny line of sand in the distance, like someone had placed a handful of grains in a line down the horizon line. The ocean churned smoothly beneath him, undulating in the sun in shimmering panes of glass. There was nobody here but him. There was nobody in the water but him.

"Blue?"

She wasn't here. She had never been here. His concentration broke suddenly, and it dawned on him that he was too far out, that the waves were big and violent. How had he even managed to get this far out? Dread started to build up in his fingertips, making them tingle and itch. How was he going to get back to shore? Nobody even knew he was out here. A wave knocked into the side of his head and suddenly he was upside down, suddenly he was tumbling and vaulting around, his lungs burning. He felt his face smack against the ocean floor and situated himself, his lungs burning. He struggled to the surface.

The ocean was relentless. He was going to drown.

He pushed, shoved. He struggled. His lungs and eyes burned as he gasped for air, only to be pushed back under the waves. He was going to lose this battle. He gasped for breath. The ocean covered his face. He inhaled water. He sputtered, choked, inhaled more water. He fought to the surface and drew in a ragged breath. He tumbled around like a forgotten piece of seaweed and felt the ocean floor drag across the length of his entire face. His eyes burned.

He was about to black out when the ocean spit him out again, back to the sandy edge. He crawled desperately away from the treacherous waves, sputtering and spitting up water. He coughed and choked as his eyes and throat and face burned painfully. He collapsed on his back a safe distance from the water.

She had never been there. She had never been there.

His mouth opened and closed as he gasped desperately for breath.