If- Nina G. Jones Page 0,60

I’m a complete fool.”

He shook his head at me. “I have to tell you something.” It never sounds like it’s going to be good when someone says that.

My stomach twisted. I always feared there was something lurking that was unsaid, but things were going well and I told myself it was just me, while always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“What is it?” I tried to sound comforting, but the words came out in a panic.

Ash looked down, hesitating. It made my heart pace faster. “I love you.” His pale jade eyes met mine.

It felt like those superhero movies, where the damsel in distress is falling to her death, and then the hero flies out of nowhere and scoops her up and shoots up into the sky. One extreme, followed by another.

Ash was my superhero, except instead of superhuman strength or the ability to fly, he had super senses and a magical paintbrush.

I don’t know why, but I cried. Not all-out weeping, but a tear escaped my eye. I think it was because of how far the person in front of me had come. He was someone who didn’t even want to defend his own life, someone who always looked down, who wanted to be forgotten. And now, he was coming to life.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, wiping the tear away.

“Because you’re going to be amazing one day, and I get to watch you grow in front of my eyes.”

He wrapped his arm around me and kissed the top of my head.

“Oh, and I do, too. Love you, that is. I kind of have for a while,” I confessed.

“Ditto.”

That night we fell asleep under the open sky.

ASH

“Where’s Sarah?” I asked as I woke up.

Mom was wrapped in dad’s arms, sobbing. Miller was standing at the foot of my bed, his eyes swollen and red.

“Dad?” I asked. I just needed someone to tell me how Sarah was doing.

His bottom lip quivered. My stomach sank. I had never seen my dad cry. He was the strong soldier. He always kept a poker face.

“Ash . . . Sarah’s gone,” dad said. “She didn’t make it.” My mother’s legs went out from under her and Miller dove to help dad catch her.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The windows began to trickle with water. Then they shattered. The room filled up at a record rate.

I watched my mother, father, and brother battle the current as the water overtook them. I watched their bodies jerk as they inhaled water instead of air. Eventually, they all became still.

I was the last to drown.

Then I opened my eyes again. I was dry. The hug of fabric restricted me.

I was in a small padded room. Everything was black and white. In the corner, there was a girl, face down.

“Sarah?” I asked. “Sarah?” I ran over to her and dropped to my knees, unable to turn her over because of the straightjacket.

I dropped low, pushing against Sarah with my shoulder until she turned over.

But it wasn’t Sarah. This girl was colorful despite the dullness of everything else. It was a beautiful girl with hazel eyes and fiery red hair. And she was dead.

“Can’t sleep?” Bird asked me as I lay with my eyes open. The dreams were infrequent, but they rose to the surface occasionally, like subconscious reminders. They wouldn’t allow me to forget everything. The guilt was desperately trying to cling to me.

“Don’t let me disturb your sleep.”

“No, I’m awake.” She rested her chin on my chest.

“I’ve been sleeping well,” I said, almost defensively.

“I know. Sometimes you jerk in your sleep though. Dreams?”

I didn’t want to tell her that ever since our relationship started, I had dreams about her dying, like a warning to stay away from her. “I don’t remember much.”

“Hmmm . . .” Bird said, like she wasn’t sure if she believed me.

She ran her fingers up my shirt. Her playful touch tasted like cotton candy. My sense of flavors had been enhanced since stopping the meds.

“Your fingers are cold.” I grabbed her hand and wrapped mine around it.

We laid in silence for a bit. I saw her words before I absorbed their meaning. The beauty of the sparkling transparent blue and teal undulating waves sometimes distracted me from the sound of her voice.

“ . . . I was five. And my mom left me in this little playground that was part of our church. She was literally gone for a couple of minutes, just dropping off a box of donations. When she came out, I was gone.”

I looked down