Deep Blue (The Mermaid Chronicles Book 1) (8 page)

That night, Alice slept. For the first time in two years there were no dreams, no new horrors, just smooth, blissful sleep.

             
“Are you sure we aren’t just seeing things that aren’t there?” Sarah asked, sitting up in bed, the dark around them. The plans had been made to send Alice away at the beginning of the month, yet they had been duly cancelled. Ron saw in his daughter that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Just a way she looked at him, maybe, but it was enough to give the two hope.

             
Ron rolled over to face his wife. “Something’s different,” he said assuredly.

             
“She’s the same person, though. She avoids people like she always does. It’s just routine.” Sarah looked at him, tears shining in her eyes. She had just woken from a nightmare.

             
“Give her time.”

             
“We’ve given her an extra month.”

             
“Come here.” Ron pulled his wife into his arms. Patting her short hair, he whispered soothing words, though he wasn’t at all sure about things himself. The truth was, he wasn’t sure they weren’t imagining things any more than Sarah was. Still, he felt it in his bones something was different; though Alice looked like the same shell of a person she had been for so long, there were storms in her eyes.

Alice had found a comfortable routine. Things weren’t perfect, but her nights weren’t plagued by nightmares anymore. Alice found herself avoiding people the way she always did, but for once she could breathe again. Things were quiet, the way she liked them. She fought herself on the inside; while part of her just wanted to let go and give up, the other half of her was stirring inside.

She found herself dreaming again, but it felt more like a memory than a dream.

             
It was a chilly night in L.A. She and her grandmother were walking from a show to the car. It was quiet and they were alone, but the dark wasn't on their minds then. They were actually laughing. Alice’s pregnancy was beginning to show and, with her grandmother's help, she was becoming okay with it. After all, Greg was in prison now, and Alice was far away from the lot of them. Alice had just turned twenty-one, the ocean was nearby and her grandmother understood and loved her; life was taking a turn for the better. It had been Grandma’s idea for Alice to take self-defense, but now Alice had grown to love it. She felt stronger than she had in a long time.

That's when the shadow crossed their path.
             
It happened so fast, the argument didn't even register in Alice’s brain.

Emma grabbed her chest, she was wheezing, and Alice didn’t care there was someone there robbing them: all that mattered was her grandmother. He leapt forward, there was a knife, and she screamed as lightning hit her side, entering her abdomen like it was the consistency of butter. She tried to fight, tried to move, but the pain was so intense, the baby might be hurt, and there her grandmother was. The struggle was all there was. Her head pounded, her body ached, and she was falling to the ground.

The man stood over her, blinking, Alice didn’t have the strength to get up, and she smelled blood thick in her nostrils. She turned her head to the side, her eyes thick with tears, and there her grandmother was. She had collapsed. Alice couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not.

His hands were all over her, searching her, pulling the wallet from her thin jacket. He pulled the necklace from her grandmother’s throat, the one she never took off. His knee grazed Alice’s wound and she screamed. He stood up, looked straight at her, and ran, leaving an immobile Alice next to her dying grandmother.

She cried and screamed until her throat was raw, but no one came. It was so late at night: there was no one there. Her loss of blood was too slow for her to pass out, and she lay there crying until finally someone appeared, four hours later. By the time her Good Samaritan showed up, Alice was just beginning to lose consciousness. She had made peace with slipping into the dark night, knowing that her grandmother would never get up again and her daughter would never be born. It had been within the first hour that she saw her grandmother’s eyes grow dark. Hope was dead, her grandmother was dead, and no one was coming. But they did, one man came, and when she opened her eyes she was on a gurney being wheeled into an ambulance. They didn’t know who she was: her wallet and identification was gone, and there was none on her grandmother, either.

Blood was all they knew: she needed blood. She was unconscious before she got to the hospital. When she woke up again, her parents were there, but nothing was the same.

             
She woke up screaming, her sheets soaked in sweat.

             
Everything had been going her way. She was on the swim team and had already won a couple gold medals at competition. She was beautiful, as chic as Finn's fan club. She was everything she had ever wanted to be. She had a great family, great friends, everything going for her. It had all disappeared so quickly. Then, when she had nothing else to give, they took her voice.

             
She leapt out of the sweat and ran to the bathroom, pushing her mom out of the way in her pursuit for the toilet. The door was wide open as her mother watched her throw up, sadness in her eyes. Alice felt those eyes on her, felt the weight of her mother’s judgment. Her mother knew she had been drinking the night before. Alice slammed the door in her mother's face, then returned to the toilet. She burst into tears before she could stop them; she turned away from the toilet and instead put her head to the cool floor. Weeping yet again, remembering the way Finn had just sat there as if her pain was nothing. Everything was nothing, nothing mattered; you couldn’t stop the world from tearing you down. Then there was the doctor in her head, and his smile. She threw up again. It was in her hair and around her face, chunks of nothingness that smelled of bile. She gagged in disgust.

             
Jumping into a cold shower, she let the water wash over her as she leaned against the wall, trying to stop herself from throwing up again. To her, the water just went on and on. It didn't truly feel cold to her skin: she didn't even have the ability to have a cold shower anymore. Hot tears mixed with the cascading ice water. She fell to her knees, letting it wash over her, on and on. Shut out the sounds, shut out the smells, shut out the light, breathe. Shut out the sounds, shut out the smells, shut out the light, breathe. She shook her head, sending drops of water in all directions. It wasn’t working, it wasn’t working at all. Pushing her forehead into the bottom of the tub, she forced herself to just breathe as her heart pounded in her chest and her hands shook.

After a while, her sobs calmed, and she turned the water off. Slowly, she moved to her feet and crawled out of the tub. Lethargically, she moved to the mirror to mechanically brush her teeth—then she stopped. She looked at her reflection in the mirror.

             
Her hair was so long that it was flat, and horribly tangled. It had none of the bounce it had when she had it shoulder-length. It simply hung, obscuring her bright green eyes and her gorgeous cheekbones. Her clothes hid the hourglass form hidden underneath. They also shrouded the scar from the knife; the faint stretch marks would disappear within the year. Her skin was pale like death, but a few days out in that sun and she might even have some life in her skin. She was suddenly seeing herself the way everyone else did, and she didn't recognize herself. She tried to run her fingers through her hair but instantly got caught in knots.

             
She was still there, somewhere, underneath all her layers of protection. She knew it, she could see. Her eyes still shone through the entire mess she had made of herself, the mess that was created out of the girl she had been. Through screams and trauma, Alice was still there. For the first time in years, Alice was looking at herself, and she was puzzled. She wasn't the same girl anymore. She could never go back to being that happy girl, to living the college life with her Joss Whedon-obsessed roommate, to late night jokes and study halls and concerts. She couldn't be that girl anymore; the girl that her mother wanted.

So who exactly was she?

She saw the ocean in her mirror, teeming with life, and she relaxed. She looked at her hands as a spark traveled from one finger to the other. She was a living stun gun. Looking down at herself, she tentatively touched her scar. She wasn't the same; she was something else. She was mer, she was a woman, and she had survived. Alice surfaced for just a moment, taking a deep breath for the first time in years. A knock on the door interrupted her reverie.

             
"Honey, are you okay in there?" Her mother asked, her voice worried with a tint of frustration and fear, fear that she had lost her daughter forever. Behind the fear, though, Alice heard a note of hope.

             
"I'll be out in a minute," Alice said.

             
"Honey, could you come downstairs when you're done? Your father and I need to talk to you."

Instantly Alice was alarmed. Her father should be at work, exactly where she'd be heading at one o’clock. She left the bathroom and looked at the clock. It was already seven a.m. Dad should definitely be at work. She slowly crept down the stairs in her towel and bathrobe. Mom was sitting at one end of the table with Dad's hands on her shoulders. He was dressed for work. Alice tentatively lowered herself into the chair across from them.

             
"Honey, this has to stop. Your mother and I just can't do this anymore."

             
"You're always in the bar. You’re never home."

             
"And you keep showing up at God-awful hours in the morning."

             
"We just can't handle you drinking yourself to death," her mother said sadly, staring at Alice, pleading with her to hear the voice of reason. Pleading with Alice to just come back from the edge she thought Alice was so ready to jump from.

             
“We’ve been mulling over this decision for a long time, and we thought we’d tell you: if you don’t change, we are going to have to send you away.”

Alice stared at them and saw their faces in a new light. Her mother looked away, surprised at Alice’s gaze, but Alice could tell that her mother was biting her lip. For the first time in a long time, Alice could see how much her parents hurt for her. They knew there was nothing they could do, but they couldn't handle it any more than she had been able to, handle that feeling of impotency. They had been hurt because she was hurt, because her pain had torn apart the family, because they had suffered loss, too. Her father had lost his mother, both of them had lost their daughter and granddaughter, and their son was nearly as bad, preferring to spend time with his machines instead of another human being. Her family had fallen apart because of her, because of the violence that had touched her. Alice was there, she was sitting with her family and seeing their pain, but not touching it, not yet. First she had to touch herself; it was her apathy that was the root of the problem.

             
"I've been swimming, late at night." It was the truth. She said it in the dead voice she knew so well, and it sickened her, hearing that tone in her voice.

             
"All alone?” Sarah paused, “At night?" For once, Alice didn’t fail to recognize the tinge of worry to her voice. She looked up at her mother as Ron shot Sarah a look that said,
She's okay. At least she's doing something.
Sarah stopped and stared at her daughter with wonder. They knew she could swim and they were worried about her going out alone, but what could they do? She was an adult, after all.

             
"I-I think I'm going to get a haircut today," Alice said slowly, remembering the way her fingers stuck in the tangles and the flat, dead way it hung against her skin. Her parents just stared at her: they could hardly believe she'd responded to them at all, and they knew what it meant for Alice to cut her hair. Sarah shot a hopeful look at her husband, unshed tears swimming in her eyes. Sarah didn't know it, but her faint spark of hope finally became a flame at that moment. Ron's face said,
I don't know. I just don't know.

             
Alice got up, leaving her parents there, and went upstairs to put on some clothes. She would go to the barber, maybe the clothes shop before work if she could swing it in time. She didn't want to be the person she saw reflected in the mirror. She wanted part of herself back; the first step would be to come out of the costumes she used to hide herself. The hair, the clothing, the blank stare; she needed to show herself in order to become herself again. After all, she wasn’t as weak as she was before. Reflexively, she let the electricity run along her fingers.

             
She logged on to David's computer and was surprised how easy it was to find an old picture of the two of them. The first ones she found were from one of the times when she came back from college one semester. It was on one of those rare sunny days in Oregon. They were in Pioneer Square, hanging onto a statue, a man with an umbrella. There were other photos, too, but that was all she needed. Printing one off, she heard the door slam as her father left for work. She went downstairs and passed her mom, who watched her from her position at the kitchen counter. Alice ignored her mom’s stares, grabbed her purse and headed to the local barber.