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“Hey, it’s Celia. Look, I know you just left, hon, but that new girl no-showed, and I can’t run the place by myself, and—” Her words became a jumble of noise and syllables as my pulse pounded in my head. However, as much as I wanted to throw the cell in his face, Beck was right. I did need the money.
“Mhm, sure,” I said, mustering as much politeness as I could for my friend and coworker. “Mhm, gimme fifteen. I’ll be in.”
I hit the red button on my phone to end the call, then glared back up at Beck. He was chowing down on one of the subs like he hadn’t just upended my entire life plan. God, I hoped he choked on it.
“You’re done,” I seethed. “That’s… that’s what I’m hearing?”
“I mean, I was done last night. I thought I made that clear,” he scoffed. A speck of chewed food flew from his mouth and landed on the counter.
“Wait… what… what the hell do you mean?” I said angrily. I felt like a dam had burst in my chest. “We didn’t break up last night, Beck. You avoided shit like always and then went crying to your mom!”
“Whoa, Marn,” he said, shaking his head sadly. It was that same old narcissist routine, like somehow I’d hurt his feelings. “This is what I mean, you know? I can’t live like this. Like I said, my narrative and my art should thrive on this, but yo, it does not.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me! You… You are done with me?” I laughed, the sound bitter as it burbled up from my chest. “You absolute asshole. You fuckwit pantywaist little bitch.”
Beck turned on his heel as if I’d slapped him. “Pick up the extra shift, Marn. And when you get home, don’t be surprised to see me gone.”
I snatched my keys off the counter. “I hope you are.”
I slammed the door harder than I should have, considering it was my house, and if I shattered one of the panes in the old farmhouse door, I’d have to pay for it.
Work went by in a blur of anger, but luckily, the act of waitressing and all the little rituals that came along with that softened the edges a bit. Celia was wise enough not to pry, and the later-than-usual shift went fast. Normally, the diner closed by eight, and sometimes, I normally made it home by five or six, leaving one cook and one other waitress to close. However, tonight was Friday, which meant we stayed open until eleven to accommodate the football crowd. High school kids and their parents were usually pretty starved after the game, and a lot of them came to fill their bellies with food before they filled it with beer. Wasn’t much else to do in Delaney on Friday other than watch the game and drink.
My house looked ten times less inviting when I pulled up for the second time that day. All the lights were off this time save for the porch light, and it sorta seemed to loom up from the surrounding trees. It even looked kinda crooked, like a house in Scooby Doo or a Halloween painting.
I barely registered opening the back door and tossing my keys and purse down. The house was dark, but I already knew my way around enough not to bang my shin or trip. That should have felt nice like I was settling into my new home, but the whole thing was soured. The little dream I had about a coffee on my porch with some nice flowers was dashed to bits.
Once upstairs, my body kicked on autopilot. My leggings and slouchy shirt from the night before were in the bathroom from when I’d changed this morning, so I took a quick shower to scrub all the diner grease off, then threw them back on. I didn’t bother with a bra, and I barely brushed my hair. I wasn’t exactly concerned with being impressive.
And there, in my bed, on my side, was Beck in all his glory, snoring away without a care in the world. He had headphones on, which meant he fell asleep listening to some music or a podcast, and three empty beers were on my nightstand.
“You bastard,” I grumbled, then tried to shove his bulk to the other side. It was no use. He was lanky, but he was dense, and I was burnt out. All my energy had been used up by work and the act of being angry. I was simply too pissed still and too tired to even bother waking him up. Sure, we were technically broken up, and I didn’t want to see any inch of him in my bed again, but that was Future Marnie’s problem. Present Marnie just wanted her feet to stop hurting. And her back. And her head. Besides, our run-down couch downstairs would be more painful for me than sucking it up and lying down next to Beck.
Despite all the bullshit from the evening, I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. It smelled like Beck’s hair products, which momentarily made me want to punch it, but… once again, Future Marnie could deal with the linens later.
Unfortunately, I didn’t stay asleep despite the exhaustion in my heart and in my bones. There was a loud clatter sometime in the night, and my eyes flew open immediately, like roll-up blinds on a window. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t quite tell if the clatter had been near or close or if it was from inside or outside the house. I sat up slowly, my vision still a little bleary as I adjusted to the darkness in the room. There was no source of light save for the moonlight outside, and even that barely filtered into the bedroom.
“What—” I said almost silently, mouthing the word more than vocalizing it.
From somewhere outside, something clanged again. I immediately clocked it as the sound of my trash can. It was either being invaded by a raccoon or a possum, or it had blown over and was now spewing takeout trash and moving-related garbage all over my yard.
I shoved at Beck angrily, but all I received was an answering snore. With another grumble, I rubbed my eyes. I tapped my phone and saw that it was just past two in the morning. Whatever was going on, I was going to have to take care of it myself. Honestly, I probably would have had to anyway, and now that I was apparently single, I certainly would be dealing with all the critters and home hiccups myself. May as well just accept it, put on my big girl pants, and go yell at a raccoon. God, I just hoped there wasn’t a sea of trash and takeout boxes scattered in the yard.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stuffed my feet into Beck’s oversized cowboy boots. He must have kicked them off on this side of the bed before completely overtaking mine. I felt like a kid putting on their parent’s shoes to play dress up, but I was too impatient and tired to root around for a pair of mine. Besides, the floors in the old house were already freezing even though it wasn’t late fall yet. And maybe if I clomped around a bit, it would wake his dumbass up.
I stood up and tried to take a step forward. But then I felt something clamp around my ankle. Whatever it was, it was that kind of extreme cold that can feel like burning. The icy clamp seemed to sizzle as it hit my skin and seared through my legging and my nerve endings for just a fraction of a second.
And then, with a shocking swiftness and smoothness, the world tilted on its axis. I saw everything go completely upside down for a moment, and then a flash of white before the blackest black overtook my vision. There was nothing for forty to sixty seconds or so, not even oxygen. It was oppressive like I might be smothered by the darkness, like it was going to stuff up into my nostrils and down into my lungs. My whole being felt like it was pressed between two panes of glass. I was a prisoner inside of my own body.
And then I felt something solid beneath me, and the uncomfortable weight that surrounded me finally eased. My eyes were firmly screwed shut, and my head swam. My stomach was doing somersaults, churning up all the crappy fried food I’d eaten at the diner.
Trying to get a handle on the nausea, I sucked in a deep, gasping breath, grateful to feel air in my lungs again. The problem was I wasn’t expecting the taste or the odor of the surrounding air. It was unfamiliar, with a metallic smell and a rotten egg undertone that reminded me of sulfur or stagnant, bad water. Thanks to that, the force of my inhale, and the churning in my guts, I upchucked my cookies beside me before I could even open my eyes.
I groaned and pressed my palms into my eyes, willing the sudden pounding in my head to go away. Thankfully, once I vomited, everything seemed to sort of calm down a bit, and after a moment, the pounding became a dull drum beat instead of a marching band. Gradually, I felt decent enough to peel my eyes open and take a look at my surroundings.
And what I saw almost made me throw up again.
I was lying on a rough wooden platform. The sound of water was all around but focused more behind me, and I suddenly realized I was on a weathered dock of some kind.
