Water In My Lungs

Dreamscape

They had always dreamt of drowning.

Estelle had always had nightmares. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamt of a lake and shadowy figures at the end of her bedspread. Her heart would sink like it had been broken. Estelle spent the day after tired, consuming copious amounts of coffee to stay functioning. They'd never bothered her aside from that. They came weeks apart, enough to make her anxious for a few hours, but easy to recover from. Connor experienced the same, often comforting her at her bedside.

When Connor dreamt of drowning- well, her nightmares were a source of hope. They were dark with with bright conclusions. Bittersweet. That had always been what she'd look to; the light at the top of the water, reflecting on her in soft shapes. Connor would dream about how water felt like silk, how it filled her lungs until she was no longer empty. When she fell into the lake and slipped past consciousness it was like slipping into a lover's arms.

This one was different from all the rest. Connor was in cold chills when she awoke, sucking in a breath that burned her throat. Her arms and legs were soaked. She thought it was sweat, until she felt bedspread squelching beneath her as she sat upright, eying her bedroom suspiciously. It was if someone had thrown a tub of water on her midsection, but it smelt of salt and dirt.

Like the lake.

Estelle had chilled at a breeze that swept over her wet frame, sitting upright with a start. She eyed the window's blinds above her, having already startled the sleep from her eyes. The blinds flopped heavily with the outside wind, highlighted at the rim with the light from the moon. Estelle hadn't left her window open, she never left her window open.

With her jaw clenched she rolled from her bed, eyes traveling to her feet where the water dripped from her night shirt.

A silhouette ghosted over her mid-section, something she would have missed if she'd only blinked. The girl hadn't though, alarm trifling through her chest. Estelle stepped backwards, tripping over her unpacked suitcase and slamming into the wall next to her. She groaned, cradling her shoulder and rolling to her feet.

"Estelle!" Connor shrieked from outside the door, thrusting through it. Her nails dug into Estelle's back as she clung onto her. "Are you okay? Did someone break in?" Estelle shook her head with less conviction than she'd hoped, eyes on her opened window.

"That window wasn't open when I went to bed. I'm soaked." She ran her hands over her grimy hips, sand and dirt mixing between the crevices in between her fingers. Estelle glanced over Connor's night shorts and pajama shirt, realizing she was just as covered.

"Uh, yeah, at least you're not pulling seaweed off of your ankles." Connor muttered, green eyes foggy with sleep. "Not a pleasant experience."

Estelle was shaken, finding it hard to focus on her words enough to laugh. Connor ran her fingers down her back, forcing a smile. Estelle turned to her, biting her lip. She kicked her suitcase to the side, landing on the bed with a small thump.

"That man at our house, Gallagher's body, this. I can't do this. I can't be in this house." Estelle eyes filled with tears, Connor's hands curling into fists as she bit back her own. "I thought we were starting new. Our whole life has been shit. This was supposed to be a new start." A sob quaked through Connor's chest at her words, knowing it to be true. "We're too trusting to be living somewhere like this. I keep getting these horrible feelings about everyone we meet."

"I get them too." Connor was picking the sand grains from her shoulders, freckles intermingling with them in the dark. She took a quick glance at the face of the small clock adorning their walls. "You need to get ready for work... It's already three." Her voice was careful and steady.