The creature had looked like an extended, floppy hand.
Red and white polka dots covered both.
Come on, she said, tugging my sunscreen slick arm.
Unsplash / Christopher Campbell
Mom doesnt want me going in alone.
Guess youre not going in then, I said.
I patted down my heap of sand with a cupped hand, smoothing the edges to create a dome.
The base of the castle.
I never splashed ocean salt in her face or created a whirlpool of chlorine back at our house.
I never dipped a finger inside, let alone dunked my head under.
Unsplash / Christopher Campbell
Instead, I made sandcastles.
Houses constructed of dirt and shells and sticks.
I created when the water only destroyed.
Sagged the walls of my buildings, wiped my castles clean away.
No sense in fighting back, in listing out excuses.
I could lie to my friends about how I had never learned how to swim.
But Tiff knew the truth, because she stood hand-in-hand with me the day it happened.
Id ignored the sound, barely even registered it, and won that race.
And the next one.
Id reached for Tiff on instinct, grabbing her tiny hand to protect her from who?
and the water stopped, like something had blocked it.
Like something lodged itself in the crack.
Still attached to my sister, Id lifted onto my tiptoes and stared into the sink.
Something poked out from the faucet an inch, clear and sparkly.
It had looked like solid water.
Not frozen, not ice.
Solid, like it had taken shape and stayed that way.
Id just stood there instead, watching the thing slide out another inch and two and three.
Four more pops, each causing a jump from me and a whimper from Tiff.
Now, the creature had looked like an extended, floppy hand.
The hand had hung in the air for a moment before flopping over the edge of the sink.
It had slithered down to the tiles until its fingers hit the floor and skittered forward.
Braver then than now, I had grabbeda knifefrom the makeshift race track and jabbed at the hand.
Pierced the blade through the center of the palm.
It had stiffened and collapsed into a puddle.
Tiff had stiffened and collapsed onto me.
When my parents had come home, they took turns screaming questions about why-is-the-floor-soaked and why-is-your-sister-crying and were-you-playing-with-knivesand why-is-your-crotch-wet?
But that interrogation felt painless compared to the weeks after.
Kids at school made fun of my stink because I refused to bathe.
Dad looked at me funny when I cleaned my hands with sanitizer instead of sink water.
To cure what they wrongly diagnosed asOCD, my parents sent me to a lifetimes worth of psychiatrist visits.
I fought hard to appear normal.
But I refused to submerge myself in the water.
A little pool around my feet during a shower, I could handle.
But willingly jumping into a deep, expansive sea?
No way in hell.
She must have already lapped through the water.
I must have zoned out while she wandered off.
I must have been lost in a memory when I should have been watching my sister.
She could have drowned.
She could have gotten swept up in a current and yanked into the darkness.
She could have died because of me.
That mistake must have bothered her as much as me, but she acted unconcerned until that night.
When Tiff sunk onto her bed, she cocked her head at me, smirk in place.
I asked, eyebrows popped.
Did she find another one of my journals?
A pair of dirty underwear?
A stash of cash?
Smarter than anyone her age should ever be, she always found new ways to blackmail me with ease.
Some family members placed bets about whether she would grow up to be a criminal or a lawyer.
What the hell, Tiff?
I asked, my palms pressing against bed sheets and springing me to my feet.
You have mom, dad, and the psych… the psychia She stumbled over the word.
the doctors all fooled, but I know youre not better.
You got to get over this.
Plenty of people are afraid of the deep sea.
Its more than that.
I can take a shit.
Im fine, Tiffany.
She folded her arms.
The shower never grew a hand.
Neither did the toilet.
The razorblade edge to her voice dulled when she said, Leave it on.
You really want to waste water?
She stared me down.
About how I had left the water on.
About how it had given the creature time to solidify.
To slither out from the pipes in our ancient home.
Somehow, a girl half my age and three-quarters my size had pinpointed my biggest fear.
She must have noticed the way I rushed through my bathroom time.
The way I called for her if she took too long behind the locked door.
I knew she no longer trusted her own memory, that she thought I belonged in the psychiatric unit.
But I understood what she meant: I hope this makes you feel a little better.
I just want you togetbetter.
And somehow, it actually worked.
Of my parents kissing over coffee and my sister hanging her law degree.
Of us chatting about things normal families dealt with, likemarriageand school loans and taxes.
Against all odds, I felt at peace.
Until something sloshed over my leg.
I woke up with closed eyes, hesitating to open them, afraid of what I would see.
Afraid of the disembodied hand I imagined floating over me.
When I finally found the strength to click my lids open, I discovered more than a hand.
Two arms and two legs and a longer torso than any human man could ever possess.
It reminded me of clear gelatin, see-through but solid.
A nose protruded from its skull and two deep indentations made up the eye sockets.
It spilt from my mouth, splashed down my throat, weighed down my stomach.
I grabbed a notebook instead.
When I finally felt my fingertips graze the weapon, I struggled to scoot it close enough to grip.
What would happen if the creature killed me?
Would the police accuse Tiff of drowning me?
Would they send someone so young to juvie?
They would consider it a suicide.
My parents would hate me for making them look bad, for making them waste thousands on a funeral.
Tiff would be heartbroken, consider it her fault.
The psychiatrists would lock her up in an institution if she uttered a word about the water.
Its face over my face and chest over my chest.
Pinning me into place.
Sentencing me to an excruciatingly slow trip toward the reaper.
Beneath the coldness of the monsters body, I felt a warmth against my wrist.
Reminding me it would be okay soon.
The pop came next, delayed.
It exploded the creature into thick droplets, an eruption of rain, soaking my fresh corpse.
