Chapter 19: Phantom Pains

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𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟺𝚝𝚑
Griffin POV

Sunrise glints off of the surface of the ocean, casting blinding light across the shore. Shaped in a perfect sphere, the sun appears to be sitting on the horizon where the water meets the sky. White sand shifts underneath my feet, sliding out from my toes as I flex them to keep my balance.

Each grain is warm under my skin, only made warmer by the rising sun. A soft breeze jostles the hair out of my eyes before I can reach up to fix it. Behind my back, the shoreline is lined with cliffs that stretch towards the sky.

I'm here alone, yet I'm not afraid.

This land, this very spot, is familiar to me, although I haven't been to this beach in years.

My parents used to drive Roselyn and I to Northern California every summer for a long weekend. It was one of the only vacations in the whole year where we didn't go somewhere with the Grahams, nor any other friend or family member. It was always just the four of us.

Roselyn and I were seven when we went hiking with our parents and stumbled across an old path that scaled down the side of the cliffs, down to a hidden beach with white sand. Unscathed by human touch, that beach turned into our oasis.

Every summer after that, when we went roadtripping to the old, sun faded motel on the coast, we begged mom and dad to take us to the beach. Our beach, we had called it, and yet our parents knew what we meant.

Then, us kids turned eleven and became too busy with summer sports to be bothered with our road trip to the beach. I haven't been back since.

Until now.

The land remembers me. I feel it in the way the waves crash further up onto the shore in a desperate attempt to be closer to me. Sandpipers scuttle across the sand and flock to my shadow, unafraid. Wind carries over the water and whispers my name as a greeting.

For the first time in a very long time, I'm able to let the tension out of my muscles. It feels so damn good to relax that it almost brings me to tears.

I must have lived a much happier, healthier life than I always thought. Honestly, I assumed that one day when I would die, I'd end up in the depths of burning hell. But this is heaven.

A small, tan sandpiper runs out of the flock. It's a brave little bird, because it gets so close to me that I could bend down and pick it up. It turns it's tiny head up to look at me, opens its beak, and beeps. Again and again, like a heart rate monitor.

Wait.

Sandpipers make a sharp wheet sound. Not the steady stream of—

The thought doesn't finish forming.

Agony digs into my skin and bones, sharper than a knife.

Cursing, I fall onto my hands and knees, curling my fingers into the sand. The pain is relentless, shooting through my entire being in waves. Saliva drains from my mouth as I tilt my head down, preparing to vomit. That's when I notice the bed of red blood underneath my left leg, soaking into the pure white sand. The sight of bone sticking out of my knee sends my head spinning.

The sun immediately collapses in the sky. As a result, the ocean mirrors one million different types of insanely bright lights back in my eyes. A scream bubbles up my throat as I squeeze my eyes shut and look away.

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