My heart has stained my sleeve red. Blood drips down my wrist, forming a pool around me until I can no longer stand on my feet and have to tread, kicking to keep my head above the surface.
Big feels, PJ says. He swims over to hand me the biggest cup of contraband black coffee I've ever seen.
What's in it? I ask him.
Courage and foolishness, he assures me and I float it nearby so I can throw myself at him for a hug. He's a great life raft. As I said before I'm a mostly terrible swimmer.
In the cup is eight ounces of whiskey with a shot of coffee for color. That's the foolishness part, I'm guessing. Works for me. I'll be on the floor before lunch.
August had other ideas and swam past me, pouring the cup into the pool, diluting my blood anyway and making it work even faster.
Well, shit, that wasn't what I had in mind, he laments, but we'll get it over with and get you back to rights.
I float on my back. Again, it works for me. I didn't want to feel any of this. I open my eyes and my angel Cole is pinned to the ceiling by his huge black wings. He smiles kindly at me. He's not frightening anymore but I'm so scared anyways because I can't remember the sound of his voice.
Just listen to me, Caleb whispers in my ear, and you can hear him through me.
Fuck this, Lochlan says. He pulls his zippo out and lights it, throwing it into the pool to make a lake of flames. Let them burn, Baby. Let it go.
