SKINTIGHT (Watty Awards 2024)

Chapter 20

Violet

I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to exist. I don't want to hear another sound or think another thought. I don't want to breathe another breath. The oxygen is lost on me.

The body of water before me looks too appealing. My feet dangle just a few feet above it. I could easily drown myself right now. All I'd need is something to keep me under. A rock? A few bricks? I'm sure Isaiah has a set of weights I can tie myself to. All I'd have to do is push them in and my body would follow. I'd sink straight to the bottom. After a few seconds, I might start to struggle. It would be instinct to resist, right? Panic would set in. I might try to scream or pull myself free — try to fill my lungs with air. But I wouldn't be able to. They'd just fill with water instead. I'd be stuck down the bottom, fighting for a life I don't even want.

It wouldn't be the most peaceful way to go, but it's the one I have available right now. The water doesn't look great. It's brown and murky, filled with leaves, twigs and bugs. It wouldn't be long until I was unconscious. Just a few seconds. Maybe a minute. No more. And that would be it. No more thoughts. No more people. No more pain. Nothing. Just nothing. What else could you possibly want?

I bet Kal would be the one to pull me out of the water — soaking wet and covered in dirt. Isaiah would be pissed. Dani would cry. She'd feel guilty. They both would. They shouldn't, though. There's nothing they could have done differently. They've done everything they could've — too much, actually. They should've left me behind years ago. I don't know why they haven't yet. They'd have every right to. I never made it easy for them. I can't even begin to count how many days I would have ruined for them. Dani probably could've gotten into Columbia if it weren't for me. She actually would've had time to study, instead of having to monitor my every move. I almost got Isaiah kicked off the team back in our junior year. He got caught with weed in his locker — my weed. They've both been babysitting me, and I need it. They're the voice of reason I lack. I'm fucking 18 years old and I need a babysitter — two of them. And I still get myself in trouble. I can't control myself. I mope around, wallowing in my own self-pity until I snap.

Isaiah wouldn't talk at my funeral. He'd be pissed. He'd be mad that I left in this way and that I made them put up with so much shit beforehand. If this was how it was going to end, why did I put them through so much? It's not the outcome they wanted. They want me to be better — to sort my shit out and function as a normal member of society. They want me to be good.

Kal would do most of the talking. He did at my dad's funeral, and he'd do it again. He's good at that. Mum wouldn't speak. She wouldn't be able to form a sentence. She'd just cry and cry and cry and cry and cry. My sisters would style me. They'd put me in some ridiculously expensive dress I hate. They'd make me wear a bra, too, but Dani would fight them on that. I never liked feeling constrained.

The wooden planks creak behind me, alerting me to a person approaching. Dani. The pier is old and unstable — too fragile to use for its true purpose. We don't use it for anything else, either. I've never been out here before. I haven't been enjoying the scenery as much as I should have. I haven't been enjoying anything as much as I should have.

It's not Dani. Rio takes a seat beside me. His legs hang over the edge of the pier, his shoes almost touching the water. He points his foot down, dipping the tip into the lake.

"Risky," he says.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I brought you something," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bag of joints. He hands one to me. "I thought it might help with the pain."