Page 216 of Chandelier Enthralled
Peering out to sea, I saw Jewel rise to the surface, gasping for air, her hands waving wildly for help, only to disappear beneath the surface of the water again.
I watched and saw nothing, just the crashing of waves.
Then a hand rose out of the mire, grasping the edge of rock, and Jewel’s face rose above the dark water. “Help me. Please.”
Pausing, I contemplated her words. Me, the man on the edge, the only witness.
In our darkest moments, doing the right thing means making the hardest choice. I was confronting the essence of my own morality, desperate to know mercy, doused in a strange kind of madness.
I reached out and tried to grab her hand, trusting that fate would be her judge, and the world her jury.
Jewel was a bloodied mess, her face contorting with rage, her eyes wide with a familiar torment.
She reached up and seized my wrist, yanking me forward and pulling me into the tumultuous sea.
We came up together, both of us gasping for air.
There was a moment where time slowed and I let go, surrendering, not fighting it, giving my fate over to destiny.
The deep seemed to swallow her whole.
One moment she was there, flailing, gasping, and in the next she was gone.
The sea closed over her, indifferent to her struggles.
It claimed me, too.
Gripped by frigid tendrils, I was held forcefully in its merciless grasp.
I stared up at the surface above me, a full moon fading out of sight as the current took me.
I felt a thousand shards of agony in my chest as my breath was ripped from my lungs. The surging sea coiled around me, yanking me down, dragging me this way and that, water rushing into my mouth and nose, choking me.
I fought my way back to the surface, fighting for her. If this was my last breath, I would use it to say the only name that mattered. “Willa.”
The current pulled me back beneath the waves.
I was thrashing, tumbling, spinning towards the jagged rocks, dragged along by an unforgiving force.
I rose up, my head out of the water, reaching for the rocks, bracing myself for the agony of my flesh being sliced into ribbons.
All I could think about was getting back to her—my Willa.
Four men leaped from the speedboat, braving the currents and quickly striding forward together in the waist-deep water.
Among them was my brother. Cameron sprinted ahead of the others the rest of the way, making dry land and reaching me in moments.
He pulled me into a tight, almost desperate, embrace, like he had lost me and found me again. It was intense, overwhelming, and completely unforgettable.
“Cameron,” I yelled. “Greyson’s in the water.”
The others heard, and bolted back down the shore, searching for him.
I tried to look for him, too, but Cameron held me back, refusing to let go, refusing to let me run into the water. I was consumed with terror. I couldn’t let him drown. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing to save him.
In doing nothing, I would die, too. I would fade away, cease to exist.
Because I loved him.
