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Chapter One
Scarlett
Getting absolutely shit faced on your 18 th birthday is a rite of passage for any Australian teen. Even though most of us have been getting parro for years now behind our parent’s backs, being able to actually buy our drinks at the bar is still exciting.
I stumble out of the club and head down to the beach. I have absolutely no right being out on the beach in the state that I’m in but the rational side of me has completely fucked off for the night.
In its place is Betty. My alter ego.
She’s a wild bitch.
Rumour has it she drank this one guy under the table at the ripe age of sixteen. Apparently, he hasn’t touched alcohol since that night.
Then again, that’s just a rumour.
The sand crunches underneath my feet and I stumble righting myself quickly as I throw my heels off to the side.
I don’t know whose bright idea it was to wear fucking heels to a club, but they can go eat a bag of dicks if I’m completely honest.
Even in my paralytic state, the beach calms something inside of me. Just like it has always done. The moon sits high and full in the sky casting a shine of light out across the water.
It's like a beacon to me as I head straight down to the water’s edge, my feet sinking into the soft sand, making me stumble more than once. It's either that or the absurd amount of alcohol I have consumed tonight. I'd assume the latter.
I slow down as I reach the dwindling waves, allowing the water to lap at my feet, testing it, before I make the plunge. I’m drunk, not stupid. The hint of cold that was in the ocean a few weeks ago has now completely evaporated, letting me know summer is finally here.
Thank God.
I continue further into the murky depths, the waves lap at my knees, but the increasing depth doesn’t stop me. That euphoric feeling I feel in the ocean, grating at me like my own personal drug.
I chuckle, dropping my hands down.
Each step I take, the breakers slowly creep higher up my body, first taking the hem of my dress until the water reaches my waist.
“Yo, Miss? Are you okay?” I can just barely hear the unfamiliar voice call from the beach but I don’t bother to turn around. I answer them in my head though. I’m fine. More than fine.
I tip my head back, closing my eyes. I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs completely before I plunge down into the shallow depths.
The feeling of ecstasy courses through my body just by dipping into the salty water.
With my lungs full, I’m able to stay under the water for as long as I need to.
Spearfishing with my friends has given me the ability to do so. Even being a beginner like I am.
Time seems to evade me under the water. The only indication that I may have stayed under longer than I should have is the burn in my chest as my lungs scream for me to take a breath.
Before I can put my feet down to push myself off the sand and breach the surface, I feel arms grab me and pull me up out of the water.
I suck in a breath as I try to work out what’s going on. A hard body holds me tight in their arms. I try to blink the saltwater out of my eyes that is currently stinging and blurring my vision but without the function of my arms that are currently haphazardly crossed over my body, they will be staying that way.
“I found her!” The gruff American voice yells, laced with panic. Wait… American?
“Fuck, bring her up.” Another voice calls from not too far away. Another American accent. This time the voice seems gentler with a hint of what I imagine to be panic just like the guy carrying me.
Shit, another American voice? What the fuck? And why do they sound panicked? Where am I?
“I don’t know if she’s even fucking breathing. Fuck.”
It's hard to tell over the crashing waves around us, but it sounds like the guy with the vice grip on me had a couple mates with him as I hear splashing sounds from numerous distances from us.
