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22, Fear

Slowly, they walked towards the cottage.

"This is something you fear?" She asked Micah.

"That's why it's there."

The screaming had stopped and Britta thought she could hear someone sobbing. Britta listened closely, and realised she was speaking between each sob.

"She's just a child." She was crying.

Beside her, Micah had stopped walking. Britta looked back and realised his eyes were darting around nervously. She could tell he recognized where they were.

"The only way to get through is to go in there." Britta reminded him softly.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The windows only let a small amount of light through, but she could see a woman kneeling on the floor, hands clasped to her chest. A man stood in the corner of the room, holding a girl up, a knife at her throat. Britta barely recognized her as the girl Micah had been talking to before.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will kill him too." He spat venomously, his eyes flickering to a woman in the corner of the room. Britta shivered at his ice-blue eyes, wondering how they could be so different from Micahs.

Before Britta could react, he slashed the knife across the girls' throat. Britta felt Micahs hand almost leave her grip as he rushed to her. The people there didn't notice him or her, but outside, Britta caught a glimpse of movement, and got the feeling that Micah had seen this too, all this time ago. Micah knelt beside the girl, a look of pain on his face. Britta counted to twelve, before tightening her grip and pulling him away.

"I never did anything." He said, still looking back. "But she was my sister Bren."

Britta couldn't answer, because suddenly they were falling again. She felt herself come in contact with water. She gasped, and then coughed, swimming to the surface.

No, please not this.

But when she surfaced, she could see everything. The current, swirling around the rock walls and trying to pull her under. She had no goal this time. She couldn't feel Diana there, telling her to keep going. Her breaths came quicker and her arms began to flail around, almost hitting Micah in the face.

"Bren, it's okay, it's just water." Micah said to her. He was talking calmly again, like her instructor.

She managed to stop thrashing, but still, she was terrified. This was the last thing her mother had heard. The ground was so far underneath her. There was no escape.

"Fight it." He commanded. "If it's drowning you're scared of, swim deeper, show them you aren't scared."

Britta shook her head. "It's not drowning, it's the river." She said. "My mother."

"This isn't the same river."

"It's the same water." She panted.

"You're being stupid, are you scared of the water you drink?"

"You don't get it!" She said, twisting around to face him, she forgot about the river, anger burning in her eyes. "It's not the water, it's what it did." Suddenly, she was standing on dry land, forgetting the river having caused it to disappear. Still angry at him, she wrenched herself out of his grip, then realising she had to hold him to see what was happening. And she wanted to put off her own fears for as long as possible.

Micah was standing still, and they were both surrounded by people cheering. Someone was saying something, but Britta followed everyone's eyes down to the arena. Inside, stood two young men, one with red hair. She saw the black haired one, and realised it was another one of Micah's memories.