48. Kristina

48

KRISTINA

I was leaning out of the bath, my hand pressed against the door. Even through the thick wood, I swore I could feel the warmth of him on the other side. “Stay,” I begged. “Stay and we’ll find a way!” My heart was pounding, my stomach a cold, dark knot of fear. Everything he was saying was true. We couldn’t be together. But the thought of losing him forever made all those rules and traditions suddenly seemed so wrong. “ Stay!”

The Texas rumble again, a vibration I felt in every inch of wet, exposed skin. “Even if we could figure something out, I’m not right to be with anyone. Got some bad shit in my head.”

I needed to fix this before we tore apart forever. But I had to pick my way carefully or I’d shatter the slender bridge that still remained. My whole body had gone cold and I slid fully back into the bath and lay there in its heat and steam as I thought desperately. “Garrett,” I said at last, “I know that things happened to you in the war. That’s okay. I know what that’s like. You know I do.”

I heard his intake of breath, that protective rage as he remembered what happened to me. It warmed me inside. I can’t live without this, without him to make me feel safe.

“It ain’t just what happened,” he said. “It’s what I did .”

And for the first time, I glimpsed the root of all that pain. Guilt. That’s what he’d been carrying all these years. I had to help him, to save him. God knows, he’d saved me enough times. “Whatever it was, it’s okay. I know you, Garrett. You’re a good man. Tell me what happened.”

But he was silent. He wasn’t going to tell me. He was going to get up and go and that would be it, I’d never see him again. I’d be on my own forever. And he’d be on his own forever.

No. I wasn’t going to let it end like this. I owed him too much. Even if we couldn’t be together, I needed to help him before he left. I’d go out there and make him talk. I’ll stand up, throw open the door, wrap my arms around him and—

But I couldn’t get up.

At first it was funny: my legs had gone to sleep. But when I tried to wiggle my toes, they didn’t respond. And when I tried to reach down and feel them, my arms wouldn’t move. Something was horribly wrong.

I flexed my back, trying to sit up, but nothing happened. I was lying there helpless, chin a few inches above the surface. What the hell?

Through the door, I heard Garrett’s body shift as he adjusted position. Garrett! I’d call to him. He’d help me. I inhaled... but my lungs barely moved. And my vocal cords wouldn’t cooperate: I couldn’t yell, couldn’t even speak.

I was paralyzed.

For a moment, I just lay there listening to the faint sound of my own breath. And then something started to happen.

I was slipping.

I couldn’t feel it because my legs were completely numb, but I could just see out of my peripheral vision that they were starting to flex as the muscles weakened. And as they flexed, my body was sliding down the bath...and under the water.

Oh Jesus Christ no.

I moved a millimeter at a time, the water rising up my neck. I was going to drown and I couldn’t let Garrett know there was anything wrong. My only chance was if he spoke first. If he broke the silence and I didn’t respond, and he realized something was wrong. Please, Garrett! Talk to me!

Silence.

The water lapped at my chin, then began to creep towards my lips. Garrett! Talk to me!

But the silence stretched on. I slipped down, down.... and then it happened: the water reached my lips.

Garrett!

A rivulet of sweet, scented bath water spilled over my lower lip and into my mouth. Then another and another. It became a flow, filling my mouth. And then it started to drain down into my windpipe. Inside, I was hysterical: I wanted to kick and thrash and scream. But my frozen body wouldn’t move. I didn’t even gag: the muscles no longer worked. The water just ran freely, filling my lungs. And I started to drown.