“He’ll fight for me,” I say, knowing it’s a last resort. “Otter will know something is wrong, and he will fight for me.”
She nods. “He probably will. People like him are soft. That’s why, Bear, you have to make him believe you. That’s why you have to make sure he won’t want to fight for you.”
“He’ll fight for me,” I mumble.
“Let him, then. You know what’s at stake.”
“You can’t do this.”
“I am your mother, Bear. I can do anything to you that I want.”
“I hate you.”
“You’ll get over it in time.”
My head hangs low. “You can’t…,” I say, knowing she can.
“Who’s more important to you?” she says gently. “Who needs you more?”
I look up, staring into the woman who gave me life but taught me nothing about it.
She doesn’t flinch away this time. “Do we have a deal?” she asks.
I KNOCK on the door. I can feel the wood under my hands, but I can’t hear the sound it makes, because the storm has finally broken open, and the winds are howling in my ears every time I attempt to come up for air. I lower my hand back to my side as another wave crashes over my head and forces me under. Water pours into my nose, and I know I’m drowning now. I want to fight to the surface, but I can’t. It’s so far overhead and would require more effort than my body can expend.
The door opens and Creed is in front of me and saying something, his face twisted. His words are muffled underneath the roaring storm, the beating of the ocean. I walk in and mumble something; what, I don’t know. He tries to grab onto my arm, but I shake him off and walk slowly up the stairs. I know he wants to follow me, but he doesn’t. I reach Otter’s door and place my hand on the doorknob. It feels cool under my skin, and thunder rumbles deep in my head and heart, and I think that if there is to ever be a moment for me to salvage today, that this will be it. All it will take is for me to thrust my head above the water and take a gasp of air. Just one is all it will take. I try to rise, and then a voice in my head repeats my breaking point—
who’s more important to you? who needs you more?
—and it’s not the voice, but her voice. Something grabs onto my ankle and pulls me further into the depths.
I twist the knob and the latch frees and the door opens. Light from the hallway spills into the darkened room and splays itself onto the bed where Otter and the Kid lay. Otter’s head is to the side, and he takes long, deep breaths, and I know he’s asleep. The Kid rises and falls with every inhalation from his position on Otter’s chest. The s
eafloor shifts beneath me, and I know that it will soon break apart and suck me down into it. I walk slowly into the room and shake the Kid gently. His eyes come alert instantly, searching the room wearily until they alight upon me. His smile is cautious, and I know he is testing the waters to see how I am. I summon what strength I have left and smile back, and it must be enough because he relaxes visibly, and I put a finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet. He nods and slowly extricates himself from Otter’s grasp. Otter shifts subtly in his sleep, and a lock of hair falls onto his forehead, and my heart breaks. The Kid walks to the door and looks back at me. I follow him and shut the door behind me.
Ty grasps my hand, and we walk back down the stairs, where Creed stands, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently. He sees us and rolls his eyes. “What the hell is going on?” he growls. “Your mother?”
I shrug.
“What the fuck did she want, Bear? Where the fuck has she been?”
“Creed, I need you to do me a favor,” I say. My voice sounds low and rusty, like it hasn’t been used in years.
“Anything, Bear. You know that.”
I grip the Kid’s hand tighter. “I need you to take Ty home for me. There’s something I have to do before I can go.”
I feel the Kid jerk my hand, and I look down at him, and he sees something in my eyes and just like that, he knows. His eyes widen and his bottom lip quivers, and the accusation in his glare is almost more than I can take. “What have you done?” he whispers. “Oh, Bear. What did you do?”
“The only thing I could do,” I tell him, and a tear slips from his eye.
“You promised me,” he says angrily. “You promised me that nothing would change.”
Creed looks back and forth between us, confused. “What? What’s changing? What the hell is going on, Bear? What do you have to do? Your mom’s still not at your house, is she? Because if she is, I swear to God I’m going to kick her fucking ass—”
I shake my head, cutting him off. “She’s gone. She’s gone back to where ever she came from.” I look back down at Ty. “Go with Creed, Kid,” I tell him softly. “He’ll take care of you until I get home.”
“What did you do!” he shouts, causing Creed to jump back. I don’t even blink. “What the fuck did you do, Bear!”