No one knew what had happened.
No one knew the world ended.
“Emily!”
Please, God, no. I wasn’t particularly religious, but in that moment, I prayed. I prayed harder than I’d ever dreamed possible. Screams ripped from my chest, guttural sobs tearing through me, the water slapping me in the face. My mouth was full of sea water as I begged for her to be spared. For this to all be a nightmare.
Bring her back.
Save her life.
Don’t take her from me.
I’ll do anything.
I prayed and I cried and I fought the current and I pushed and I breathed into her cold mouth. I did everything I knew to do. I fought for her harder than I would’ve fought for myself.
The ocean slapped me in the face again, nearly ripping her from my arms, but I clung to her for dear life.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
By the time I made it to the shore, she was already dead.
Chapter Nineteen
Natasha
I’d been tossing and turning all night, but at that moment, I was lying awake thinking of all that had happened. Between the group, but also between Jaren and me. What had gotten us to the place we were in? I remembered so many fights over the years, arguments over things that didn’t matter in the long run. Screaming fights over things I couldn’t even remember anymore.
What Emily said in the spa really got to me. More than I wanted to admit. Sure, I knew my friends knew Jaren and I had problems, but they were around us all the time; they knew our truths. Emily was a stranger. She knew nothing, and yet she knew something I would’ve never volunteered without being asked. Why had I told her anyway?
What if she brought it up to Jaren?
A sickly feeling washed over me as I pictured the way she’d been looking at Brad lately—Brad, a happily married man.
What if, knowing the issues Jaren and I were having, she tried to go after him? I couldn’t have it.
I shouldn’t have cared. But I did.
Outside the hut, the wind was howling. Rain pattered on the roof and the windows. The sliding glass door was closed, but even with the overhead ceiling fan, the open windows were doing nothing for the heat outside except allowing rain to pour inside. I stood up to close them, though I dreaded doing it. I was drenched in sweat, my mind wandering between stress about my marriage, stress about Emily, and the possibility of running headfirst into the ocean to cool off. My husband, insistent on sleeping under a sheet and blanket even in the hottest of environments, was still in bed, sleeping peacefully. I was sure by morning, our bed would be a puddle of sweat.
The wind picked up, howling again, but this time it sounded practically human.
No.
It was human. Someone was screaming.
I flipped on the bedside lamp on my table and hurried across the room. Jaren rolled over, one hand over his eyes. “What are you—”
“Something’s wrong.”
The sound died off, but I knew what I had heard. I walked to the sliding glass door and slid it open, suddenly aware that there were no locks on the doors, and wondering what we would do if something went wrong.
Jaren was sitting up in bed then, one eye still closed. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone—”
There it was again. A cry of pain—of agony. Someone was hurt. I looked at Jaren, who jumped from the bed at the sound.
“What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, the wind whipping around me, cooling me as the sweat dried on my skin. Through the darkness and the storm, I couldn’t make out a thing. “Put your shoes on.” He reached for his shoes as I did, tossing on a T-shirt as we rushed out the door and across the sand. The beach was dark—it didn’t seem like anyone else had been disturbed by the noise.
Jaren moved in front of me, a hand out to keep me behind him as we made our way toward the roaring ocean. The rain pelted us, blurring our vision and stinging our skin, soaking us even more than we already were. “Did it come from this way—what’s that?” He pointed straight ahead, and I moved around him, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was staring at. I put a hand up over my eyes to shield them from the rain.
No.
“Andy,” we said at the same time, dread filling my veins. Without another word, we took off, rushing toward him as quickly as our legs could move in the dense sand. He was face down, the tide slapping his sprawled out body, though he wasn’t moving. I could hear his quiet sobs the closer we grew, his voice hoarse. How long had he been out there?
“No, no, no, no, no,” he sobbed, not looking up even as we grew near, our shadows cast across him.
“Andy?” Jaren yelled. “What’s going on?”
My blood ran cold as we reached him and I realized what I was seeing. The places where I’d thought the sand had washed away, creating dark, shadowy rifts, were actually strands of hair. Dark hair. Andy wasn’t face down in the sand, he was lying on top of someone.
He was lying on top of someone who looked incredibly dead.
When Andy lifted up, Emily’s body was contorted. Even in the moonlight, I could tell. Her head was twisted to the left, her hips and legs pointing to the right. Even for someone flexible, the position didn’t look comfortable. The rain slapped her in the face, though she didn’t move or seem bothered by it. She was incredibly pale—even more so than usual, and I’d wager a guess that her lips would be blue if there were enough light for us to see them. I knew what had happened, and yet I couldn’t make my brain form the words.
Jaren went into action immediately, bending down and grabbing the body. “Andy, move.” He dragged her back
