Page 94 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Thirty-Four
Anthony
I spin around and see Iris in her day clothes vanishing into the pool, like a slow-mo segment from a horror flick. The water plashes, but I hear nothing. The place is soundproof.
I start to run before Bobbi can. Iris can swim, I tell myself. I taught her how. So she should be okay. I know she should. But she isn’t coming up.
I jump into the water, phone, shoes, watch be damned.
Iris has her eyes squeezed shut, her palms pressed against the sides of her head. She’s bent forward, staying under the water. What the hell? Is she panicking and forgetting to how to float?
I wrap an arm around her and start to pull her up. She struggles. Her fists hit me, but I hardly feel them. The only thing that matters is getting her out of the pool. Now.
Finally, I manage to push her onto the edge, and Bobbi pulls her out. I drag myself up.
Iris is curled on her side. I inhale a lungful of air, ready to scream at her for being so foolish. Reckless enough to jump into the pool. If this is a prank, it isn’t funny.
But the glassy look in her eyes stops me before I can start my tirade. “What’s wrong?” I demand, my voice taut with the unspoken anger and terror.
“I can’t remember, Tony,” she says. Lost. Broken.
All my senses go on full alert. I’ve never seen her like this, not even when she told me about what happened to her before—what Sam did to her. And I know whatever made her feel sick and come home isn’t just mere illness. But what triggered it? “What can’t you remember?”
“The people I should. I don’t remember the people I should. I even tried to stay under the water and think about them. But nothing came. Absolutely nothing.” Her chin trembles.
My heart breaks for her. And I realize that even if I tell her everything I know, it won’t be enough. She still won’t have her memories. There may be more Yunas in her past, but none of them will matter because she doesn’t know them. She doesn’t have anything in common with them. She has to re-create old connections, while feeling like she’s working extra hard to catch up because of her lack of context.
I pull her into my arms. “Let’s change you into dry clothes, then we can talk. How about that?”
She just sits limply.
“I’m not changing until you do. We’ll both catch cold.”
She looks up at me slowly. “I don’t want you to get sick because of me, Tony.”
“Then let’s go.”
I get up. She stands, but her legs are too unsteady. A shudder racks through her, almost making her lose her balance. I pick her up.
Bobbi’s watching us, her face drawn. “Do you need anything?”
“Get Dr. Young here ASAP.”
She nods.
I carry Iris to the bedroom, wishing I could lend her my strength…or take some of her pain. I’d gladly give up an arm if she’d never suffer like this again. Quickly, I peel the wet clothes off her, towel her down and put her in her favorite Tweety nightshirt. I strip mine off and put on a white T-shirt and denim shorts, then finish drying her hair, using the dryer she likes so much in the morning.
She closes her eyes.
“Can you tell me what happened to make you want to remember?” I ask softly.
She’s quiet for so long that I start to wonder if she heard me over the sound of the dryer. But finally, she shakes her head. “Please don’t ask.”
She’s too brittle. If I ask, she might just crumble.
Give it time. When she’s calm, you can ask again and fix what’s bothering her.
By the time her hair’s all dry, Bobbi comes up. “Dr. Young’s here,” she calls from outside the door.
