Mara POV
The pills are small and white and I've been staring at them for twenty minutes.
Six of them in my palm. Xanax from three years ago when the nightmares got so bad I couldn't function. I took them for a week and they made everything soft. Made me forget to pick up Lily from school and Mrs. Patterson had to call, panicked, my daughter still sitting on the curb waiting.
I stopped after that.
But I kept the bottle. Just in case.
This feels like in case.
I'm on my bathroom floor. Two in the morning. Tile cold through my pajama pants. The cabinet door is open and I can see my reflection in the mirror inside. Woman I don't recognize. Hollow eyes. Hair needs washing. Face that belongs to someone else.
"Tell me who I am," I whisper to her.
She doesn't answer.
I could take them. Tip my hand back. Swallow. Let the chemicals smooth everything out. Make Dominic's voice stop. Make the water stop closing over my head. Make it all stop for just a few hours.
But Lily is asleep down the hall.
And who would check the locks if I was unconscious?
I put the pills back. Close the cabinet. My reflection disappears.
My phone is on the counter. The screen says 2:17 AM.
I pick it up. Put it down. My hands are shaking. Pick it up again.
Call Ethan before the fear can stop me.
He answers immediately. Voice rough with sleep. "Mara?"
"I was in the water." The words come out wrong. Too fast. "I remember drowning. Dominic's face above me. Watching."
Silence. Then, "Where are you?"
"Home. Bathroom floor."
"I'm coming over."
"You don't know where."
"Text me."
He hangs up. I sit there holding the phone. Trying to breathe. In through nose. Out through mouth. The therapist taught me that except I'm not sure the therapist was real.
Maybe none of it was real.
I text him my address. Go check on Lily. She's sprawled sideways across her bed, one leg hanging off, rabbit clutched under her chin. Breathing deep. Safe.
I go to the kitchen. Make coffee. Something to do with my hands.
The knock comes exactly twenty minutes later. Soft. Careful.
I unlock the door. All three locks. Ethan is standing there in sweatpants and a jacket over a t-shirt. Hair sticking up on one side. He drove here straight from bed.
"Hi."
"Hi."
I let him in. Lock the door behind him. Check it. Check it again.
He doesn't comment.
We sit at my kitchen table. The coffee pot is gurgling. The overhead light buzzes, needs replacing. Everything is too loud.
"Tell me," Ethan says.
"It's not a full memory. Just a piece. Being underwater. Pressure in my ears. Burning in my lungs. And his face. Through the surface. Dominic. Watching me drown."
"Was he pulling you out?"
"No."
Ethan's jaw goes tight. Muscle jumping. "What else?"
"Kira. She was there. Next to me. Both of us under. Trying to get up but something, " I wrap my hands around the coffee mug. Too hot. The pain helps. "Something was holding us down."
"You're sure it's a memory? Not a dream?"
"I don't know. I don't know what's real anymore."
"It's real."
"How do you know?"
"Because you wouldn't make that up." His hands are flat on the table. Pressing hard. "Your brain has spent seven years protecting you. Why would it suddenly invent Dominic trying to kill you?"
Maybe. Or maybe I'm finally losing it.
"That night." I look at him. "Tell me everything. From the start."
He nods. Takes a breath. "You texted me around nine. Said Kira wanted to talk. That it was important. Meet at the Marina at ten."
"I texted you?"
"Yeah."
"I don't remember that. I remember Kira calling at lunch. Saying she needed to see me at nine. Not ten."
Something crosses his face. "Your text said ten."
The details keep shifting. Nothing lines up.
"My dad called around eight thirty," Ethan continues. "Chest pains. I took him to the ER. They ran tests. Kept him for observation. By the time I got back to Ashford it was past eleven."
He stops. His hands have curled into fists.
"Go on."
"Police cars everywhere. Ambulance. Fire truck. I ran toward the pier. They were doing CPR on someone. I got closer." He swallows. "It was Kira. Her lips were blue. She wasn't breathing."
I can almost see it. Almost.
"Where was I?"
"Maybe twenty feet away. Dominic's coat around you. You were soaking wet. Shaking. Saying the same thing over and over."
"What thing?"
"I killed her. I killed her. It's my fault."
The words taste familiar. Like they've been living in my throat.
"Was Dominic there?"
"Right next to you. Talking to the police. Very calm. Told them you'd been drinking. That you and Kira fought. She fell in and you went after her but you were too drunk to save her."
"Was I drunk?"
"No. You smelled like the harbor. Algae and gasoline and rot. But not alcohol."
"Then why, "
"Because he's Dominic Ashford. Because his family owns half that town. Because he had a story and you couldn't contradict him."
The coffee has gone lukewarm. I drink it anyway.
"Did I say anything else?"
Ethan looks at his hands. "You kept asking for me. Where's Ethan. Over and over. Dominic told you I wasn't coming. That I'd moved on."
"And you were right there."
"I tried to get to you. The cops blocked me. Said family only. Dominic saw me though. Looked right at me. And smiled." His voice goes flat. "Then turned back to you."
My stomach turns over.
"After?"
"Ambulance took Kira. Police took statements. Dominic drove you home. I tried to follow but he lost me. Drove like he was being chased. By the time I found your house, all the lights were off."
"Why didn't you come back?"
"I did. Next day. Dominic answered. Said you were sedated. Doctor's orders. That seeing me would make things worse."
"What doctor?"
"That's what he said."
I get up. Walk to the window. The street is empty. Dark. Normal people sleeping normal lives.
"I don't remember a doctor. Don't remember getting home. Don't remember anything until the next morning. I woke up in my bed and Dominic told me I'd killed her."
"What exactly did he tell you?"
"That Kira and I were drinking. We fought about you. She said I was pathetic, following you around when you'd obviously moved on. I pushed her. She fell. I jumped in to save her but I was too drunk. By the time I got out she was gone."
Ethan stands. "He made you believe you murdered her."
"Why?"
"Because guilty people don't ask questions."
The logic cuts clean. Horrible but clean.
"There's something else." Ethan's voice has gone careful. "When they pulled Kira out. When they were doing CPR. I saw her neck."
"And?"
"Bruises. Like someone had held her under."
The floor tilts. I grab the counter.
"You're saying Dominic drowned her."
"I'm saying someone did."
My legs quit. I slide down the cabinet to the floor. Ethan comes over. Sits beside me. Close but not touching.
"If he killed her," I whisper, "why am I alive? If we were both in the water."
"I don't know. Maybe he needed you. Needed a witness who would confirm his story. Dead women can't corroborate accidents. Living ones with no memory can."
We sit there as the sky outside goes from black to grey. Another day starting whether I want it to or not.
"I need to know," I say. "Need to know if I killed her or if he did."
"Room seventy seven."
"I can't leave Lily."
"Mrs. Kowalski."
"I don't, " I start, then stop. "Maybe."
Footsteps in the hallway. Small ones. Lily appears in her pajamas, rabbit dragging behind her.
"Mama?"
"Right here, baby."
She looks at me. At Ethan. Back at me.
"Are you going to help my mama fight the Tall Man?"
Ethan's face changes. "The what?"
"The Tall Man. He visits us. Tells Mama bad things that make her cry."
I push up off the floor. "Lily, honey, the Tall Man is just a dream."
"No he's not. He calls you."
Ethan stands slowly. "Mara. What is she talking about?"
"It's nothing. She draws these pictures. A shadow figure. Her old therapist said kids manifest anxiety into, "
"Does she say he talks to you?"
"Sometimes. In her drawings he's always by the phone or in doorways."
The color leaves Ethan's face. Just drains out.
"What?"
He crouches in front of Lily. "Can you tell me about him? The Tall Man?"
Lily glances at me. I nod.
"He comes at night. When Mama's sleeping. Stands by her bed and whispers. Then the phone rings and Mama answers but she doesn't remember in the morning."
Ethan stands. Backs away. His hands are shaking.
"Ethan."
"He did this before." His voice sounds strange. Hollow. "In high school. He'd call you. Two, three in the morning. You'd talk for hours. Next day you wouldn't remember. You thought you were sleepwalking. Having vivid dreams."
Something cold spreads through my chest. "That's not, "
"You told me. Said you kept having dreams where someone whispered to you. Told you things. And you'd wake up feeling wrong. Like someone had been inside your head."
No.
"Seven years," I whisper. "He's been doing it for seven years. And Lily's been watching."
Ethan nods. Doesn't say anything. Doesn't need to.
Because I understand now.
Dominic didn't just gaslight me when I was awake.
He got inside my dreams.
Rewired me while I was defenseless.
And everything I think I remember might be his voice in my head instead of mine.
Lily tugs on my sleeve. "Mama, you're shaking."
I am. My whole body. Can't stop.
"It's okay, baby. Everything's okay."
But it's not.
It's never been okay.
And I don't know if it ever will be.