Half of Georgia

***Two girls dead a year apart, one her beloved crush. But who will believe Georgia, a relapsed alcoholic who's been shamed for being a lesbian, that these murders are not only connected, but she's also at risk?***
I stumbled over my own feet until I pressed myself against my truck. As my sight grew dark, I heard waves crashing onto a beach. I felt cold water rushing over my feet and seaweed wrapping around my ankles. I was there. My mouth felt grainy and sand crackled and popped between my teeth. I realized I was holding my phone. Call me back, please! Rose had said.
I called. It dialed. Then answered.
"What is it?" I tried to ask, but my tongue was forced still, jammed with sand. "Rose, tell me," I tried again, but the sand hardened into concrete, jamming my jaw open. I couldn't breathe. Listening to the phone, desperate to hear her whispers, I pressed until my ear turned red, but the only thing coming through on the other end was gurgles and cracks of sand.