I was drowning. I think I'd realized it a while ago—the rest of me just needed to catch up. Experiencing the trauma of yesterday made me realize how bad it'd gotten—how bad I'd let it get. I'd spent so long pushing down my emotions, rejecting any sort of feeling that I didn't know how to act during a crisis. Now, if any emotion or feeling were to suddenly appear, I immediately dismissed it.

Every single time I closed my eyes, I was thrust back into their suite and heard Aunt Izzy's heart-stopping scream. When the sun rose over the water the next morning, slowly brightening my suite, I realized I'd never actually fallen asleep. My eyelids felt swollen and impossibly heavy—like tiny anchors were resting on them.

The knock, when it came, was soft. As if whoever was on the other side didn't want to wake me. I knew who it was before I even opened the door. And sure enough, Waverly was floating on the other side, face tear-streaked and pale. Her eyes, filled with tears and worry, scanned my face as she pulled me into a hug. "Oh, Faye," she whispered, voice filled with grief. "I'm so, so sorry."

I didn't respond. Didn't even flinch as she swam inside and shut the door behind her. "How's your aunt? How are you?"

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. "I don't know," I answered honestly. Even my voice was hollow—void of any emotion.

She nodded. "What you all went through..." Her voice trailed off, and it was her turn to swallow hard. "It must have been awful." I could hear the grief in her voice, but didn't comment on it.

When she put a hand on my arm, I finally flinched. Concern shone in her eyes as she looked at me. "It all happened so fast..." I trailed off, my words identical to those I'd spoken when I'd seen Jonah last night.

A jolt ran through me as his face appeared in my mind. Jonah. I knew that eventually, I'd have to find him and explain, but I didn't know if I could. Even now, the thought of facing him filled me with dread. He didn't even know about our family history—both my aunts' struggles with getting pregnant. Having to reopen that wound... I didn't know if I could bear it.

"What do you need?" Waverly asked softly, her voice soothing and calm. I didn't know what I needed.

Before I could respond, that familiar voice reared its ugly head yet again, poised to strike. And for the first time, I let it. I didn't try to fight or dismiss it. Its words were poisonous, filling my heart and mind.

You did this to yourself, you know. All those times you pushed down your anger, sadness, grief, and depression—thinking that if you ignored everything, it would go away. Let's face it—the real reason is because if you didn't, you'd be forced to face the truth. That you secretly believe everything your depression tells you. That you don't deserve to be happy. That's why you've been feeling so empty lately. You've convinced yourself that you shouldn't feel any emotion—good or bad.

When Waverly's arms came around me, her grip firm but soft, something inside me cracked. A tsunami of tears flowed down my cheeks, chest heaving as I struggled to breathe. To my horror, the words played on repeat in my head.

Only instead of my voice, it was several different voices. Mom. Dad. Drew. Jonah. Waverly. The voices of those I loved, who would do anything for me.

"Stop," I begged, my voice small. Meek. "Please. Just stop." A scream slipped from my lips. All I could hear were the voices.

At some point, I dimly heard the suite door open, more low voices surround me. I was almost hysterical; I couldn't tell what was real and what was imaginary. When I felt hands on me, I flinched. A deep, calm voice filled my ears. I grabbed onto it and clung as if it were a lifeline in a choppy sea. "Faye. I need you to breathe. Focus on the sound of my voice. Deep breaths."

And I tried—I really did. But it felt like an anchor was sitting on my chest. Meanwhile, the voices only gew louder to the point where they drowned out all outside noise.

You did this to yourself, you know. All those times you pushed down your anger, sadness, grief, and depression—thinking that if you ignored everything, it would go away. Let's face it—the real reason is because if you didn't, you'd be forced to face the truth. That you secretly believe everything your depression tells you. That you don't deserve to be happy. That's why you've been feeling so empty lately. You've convinced yourself that you shouldn't feel any emotion—good or bad.

I thrashed wildly, hands clenched into fists. That's when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. The ghosts—for lack of a better term—returned with a vengeance. They swooped in and out of my peripheral vision, eyes wide and hungry.

I dimly heard shouting; I couldn't tell if it was directed at me or someone else, though. "FAYE! Snap out of it! It's not real!" Slowly, ever so slowly, I forced myself to concentrate. Built up that impenetrable wall until the ghosts finally—finally—vanished.

I faltered, Drew quickly taking my weight effortlessly. I was gasping for water, my heart feeling like it was going to burst from my chest. His eyes were wide as he, too, tried to catch his breath. Multiple pairs of concerned eyes stared at me, faces pale with shock.

Mom was shaking as she reached for me, brushing a stray hair off my forehead. Her eyes filled with tears, voice breaking as she spoke. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

I barely heard her, the words only dimly registering in my mind. I felt as if I'd just swum an impossible distance—my body was shaking. A knock on my suite door made all of us flinch. With a last, worried glance at me, Drew swam to the door and opened it. His frame was so broad, I couldn't make out who was in front of him. I had a pretty good guess, however.

When I saw Jonah, I froze. A shaking hand rose to my mouth, but I didn't say anything. His eyes scanned my own, widening at whatever he read on my face. They softened with concern as he swam inside the bedroom.

I struggled out of bed, panting heavily from the effort, and managed all of a stroke before faltering again. Drew was instantly moving, but Jonah was faster. He took my weight effortlessly, holding me up as I cried. I clung to him, any words lost in a flood of tears.

He stroked my hair, murmuring soothing words that were inaudible to my family. I didn't know it at the time, but Drew had found Jonah early this morning and quietly explained everything. My head was buried in Jonah's chest, so I didn't see the sad but grateful glance he exchanged with my brother.

I was being pulled deeper and deeper beneath the waves. Pretty soon, I would hit the bottom. The only question was, did I want to resurface?

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