A Truth Shining Beneath The Surface

Go Away

Calm, lovely waves. Or so anyone who first glanced at them thought. But as time goes on, in the back of your mind you can hear the sound of their pounding increase. And then it'll stop as the water is swept backwards, away from the sand and away from the shore.

But within seconds, its back. A hurling, churning blue wave crashes upon the warm sand again, causing children's playful screams to echo through the air. Mothers will begin to rush forward, their perfect pedicures swamped by the pools of lingering water that they so despise. They'll grab their children's hands, rushing them away from something that seems so dangerous, but really wasn't.

They didn't want them to learn. To learn the fact that this was how life was.

As soon as you think that you're okay, that you're safe from the clutches of the cold, icy cold water, it'll come back and surprise you, the foam being sprayed up right in your face as you howl with pain from the salt in your eyes.

Sure, that's a metaphor. To life, I mean. I just can't help but think about things like that. Things relating to the real world. Because that's what life is all about, right? Getting money, surviving, and having a family. That is all life is.

"Oh god, Megan! You're not thinking about work again, are you?" a melodic voice drifts through the air, and I snap my neck towards it, only to see Olivia. She has a knowing smirk twisting at the tips of her lips, and her deep hazel eyes look into mine, an endless pit that you could easily fall into if you looked at them long enough. Her dark brown hair is thick and curled, and it frames her light skin perfectly as she reclines in her lawn chair.

"Of course not," I lie, and turn away from her. I love feeling the warmth of the sun on my arms, and I close my eyes, tuning out the yelps and the laughs, and the cries.

But even when I do that, I can still hear the ear-piercing screams.

A bloodied knife lays in my hand, my hands coated in a sticky substance which I know to be blood. The corpse lays in front of me, her body propped up by a chair, her arms and legs still strapped tightly to it. A sickly smile coats my face as I laugh at her demise, the terror still evident in the irises of her wise eyes. She deserves it. She deserved everything.

Jolting awake, I sit upward, the breaths blowing harshly through my nose and mouth. It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes that I was asleep.

"Bad dream, huh?" Olivia asks, her sharp chin tilted with utter knowingness.

I sigh. Olivia never understood personal boundaries. And she couldn't, nor wouldn't, leave me alone. "No," I lie again, and twist so that I can't face her. I don't want to see her anymore.

"You can't lie to me, Megan," a chilling tone laces her words as she raises herself from her lawn chair. Somehow, Olivia always finds the need to be over-dramatic with her words. It gets really annoying sometimes. Especially since I want to be alone right now.

"Fine. I had a dream, okay?"

"A good dream then?" She pushes again, her toned body now inches away from my face.

I lick my lips, a pleasant smile forming on my face before I could stop it.

"Ah. So it was a good dream."

"Whatever you want to think," I reply and push my arms behind my head, my body now facing the direct wrath of the sun.

"Do you want me to shield the sun for you?" She coaxes, her voice making her way into the center of my brain, the memories flooding back before I can stop them.

"Megan, stop. Please!"

"No."

"I've always stayed by your side! I can get you the help that you need!"

"Shut up!"

"Please! Please-" her voice silenced with the pure stroke of a knife on her neck.

Shaking my head to dismiss the memories, I'm finally convinced into letting her shield me from the potential of getting more sunburnt. "Sure," I say nonchalantly.

As she lifts her frail, almost transparent arm to shield the sun, the realization dawns on me. She can't block the sun anyway.

"Actually, I think I'm good, Olivia." I'll have to deal with the sun on my own.

"Aw, but why?" She pouts, her lips folding over and her arms crossing over each other in mock anger.

"Because the sun can give me a better tan than the one I had before," I murmur. Excuses, excuses. I just pray that she doesn't notice them.

Raising an eyebrow, she finally gives up and plops back down on the chair that is hers.

And within seconds, the chilling threats come.

"I swear, I'll kill you for what you did." I hear her whisper, her sharp eyes glaring at a spot on my back.

I tense, pretending that I didn't hear her, and close my eyes.

She can't, she won't, and she wouldn't. I made sure of it.