(Formerly known as "When Our Paths Crossed")
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A tale of two lost souls brought together by pain, grief and trauma.
Atlas tries to find a place in a world he's worked so hard to escape. Elijah struggles to balance the life he's building and the...
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I'M DRIFTING ON open waters. It's blissful, with no cravings, no shame, no guilt, no pain. Just a vast, calm ocean. It's nice, but I know it's not real. If it were real, there would be all those shocks of emotion that prove we're alive, but I don't care.
This is nice.
A hand slams against my chest, pushing me under the still water. I'm drowning, held down by a solid weight that doesn't let me go, no matter how much I thrash. My lungs are burning as I try to draw a breath. My muscles are going heavy as the oxygen seeps from their pores. I'm no longer in an ocean but a tub. The same tub in all my nightmares. The one from my past.
Wake up, Atlas.
I need to wake up!
"Atlas?"
I surface from my nightmare, inhaling deeply, the breath flowing easily into my lungs. I take a moment before opening my eyes, a racing beep filling my ears. It slows with every breath I take as if we're connected.
Through my eyelids, there's a harsh white light above me, and something is shoved up my nose. Wherever I am, it smells like sterilization.
"Atlas, honey, are you awake?"
A warm hand presses against my forehead, a gentle, calming motion that slows my frantic heart. I lean into it for a moment before finally opening my eyes. June's face is a blur as my eyes adjust, but once they clear, I see her relieved smile as she smooths back the hair from my face.
"Hey, you," she whispers, "welcome back to the land of the living."
When I try to speak, my throat is so parched and sore that I can only manage a raspy squeak. My sister pulls away and grabs a cup with a straw from the table as I try to clear my throat.
"Here." She presses the straw to my lips, and I sip gratefully.
The cool water soothes my throat and when I attempt to speak again, my voice is still raspy, but words come out. "Where am I?"
"The hospital." June sets the cup back on the table and leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. "Atlas, you were in an accident... Do you remember anything?"
I start to shake my head, but then I see the glossy look in Dan's eyes, the blinding light, and the blaring horn. Then there was a shock of pain and then nothing.
"I remember getting into the car," I say slowly, "Dan told me he was okay to drive, but I just knew he wasn't... I was just angry and tired and needed to get out of the house..."
I didn't want to admit that I needed to get away from June. Her smothering had been particularly overbearing. The way she looks at me now, with her face carefully composed so as not to worry me, is fragile. Her eyes are puffy, and her skin is dreadfully pale, like she didn't get any sleep. Knowing June, she probably didn't.
