Drowning Mind

7

Andy splashed cold water on his face, the chill biting into his skin, momentarily grounding him. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, studying the man staring back at him. Twenty-five. It seemed impossible that he was past the reckless days of his teenage years, but here he was—older, and yet still feeling lost. His face was drawn, eyes shadowed with sleeplessness and the weight of everything that had happened.

He sighed and dried his face with a towel, hoping the simple act of washing away the day would help ease his mind. It didn’t.

Later, he lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The steady rhythm of rain tapping against the windowpane filled the room, accompanied by the occasional low rumble of thunder in the distance. His grandfather had fallen asleep after dinner, but sleep felt like a distant dream for Andy. The oppressive weight of the night pressed down on him, making the air in the room feel thick and suffocating.

He tossed and turned, the old bed creaking beneath him, but no matter how he shifted, sleep eluded him. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the rain, taking deep, measured breaths. In. Out. But his mind refused to quiet down. It ran circles around the same thoughts, over and over again, each one louder than the last.

The fight with Susanna. The divorce. His father’s harsh words. Failure. They all played on a loop, echoing through his head, making it impossible to find peace.

Andy squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could force the memories away. Instead, Susanna’s face appeared behind his eyelids—her laughter, her smile, the way her eyes used to light up when she looked at him. He could almost hear her voice, soft and warm, whispering the way she used to when they lay together at night.

How had everything gone so wrong? How could they have gone from being so happy together, so in love, to this—strangers on opposite sides of a broken marriage? He couldn’t make sense of it, no matter how many times he tried. He knew they’d had problems—every couple did—but hadn’t they been able to talk through them before? Work through the rough patches? They should have survived. They should have made it. But instead, everything had fallen apart, like sand slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

Andy opened his eyes again, the darkness of the room pressing in around him. His chest ached, a deep, hollow pain that wouldn’t go away. He missed her—God, how he missed her. The pain of it was almost physical, a constant ache he couldn’t escape.

And then there was the guilt. His father’s voice. The way he’d looked at him, the way he’d blamed him for everything. That weight—the crushing burden of letting everyone down—seemed too much to bear. No matter how much he told himself it wasn’t all his fault, part of him couldn’t help but believe it.

He lay there, feeling the storm rage outside, but the real storm—the one inside him—was worse. There was no escaping that.