Sun Damage (The Sunshine Series) (3 page)

“
Where would you take me?” I ask.

He smiles.
“I can’t tell you that.”

“
Heaven?” I ask anyway.

“
Whatever.” He shrugs. “I don’t think it has a name.”

I swallow
. Despite how much I want to stay with Stevie, I know I can’t. That same feeling I got the first time I died creeps over me. There are things I need to do. I’m not done.

“
Yeah,” Stevie says, maybe sensing my hesitation. “I know what you’re going to choose.” He smiles again. “Don’t exactly blame you.”

We’re quiet for a little bit, but I feel like every spare moment needs to be used in this place.

“So…” I say. “Does everyone have replicas of their houses they go to when they die?”

Stevie doesn’t say anything at first, maybe thinking that he’s not supposed to share the information.
“Fuck it,” he says. “No. This is a place your mind creates when you die.”

“
Oh.”

“It usually depends
how
you die,” he continues. “If you die more or less peacefully, or know when it’s going to happen, your mind makes a place that feels safe. A place you like going.”

“Where did you go?” I blurt.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to die.” He gives me a small smile and shakes his head. “I sank for much longer than you did before I came here.”

It’s quiet for a little while. I take his hand on top of the counter’s cool surface.
“I miss you,” I say, though I barely hear it.

He squeezes my hand back.
“I know.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “I miss you guys too.”

I want to ask him more.
If he’s okay. If he’s happy.

But then the door
opens, the sound of the ocean outside overtaking our conversation.

Dark water be
gins to flood the floor and soaks into my socks. I hadn’t noticed I was still in the pajamas I was wearing when I died until now.

My eyes travel upward
to the person who caused the flood.

Myles’ white T-shirt is soaked through, showing his rib cage underneath. His hair drips into his face as his eyes fire at me.
“We have to go,” he says.

At those words, it’s hard to describe what goes through me. I feel uncontrollably attached to him—of course I have to go with Myles—and yet, when I turn back to Stevie, my chest ach
es. I don’t want to go.

Without letting go of my hand, Stevie stands, taking me to the door with him. His palm is cold against mine. He didn’t feel like this when we hugged.

“Come on,” he says when my feet have trouble moving. When we’re at the door, the water is up to my thighs. The cotton of my sweats is wet and cold, sticking to my skin. I don’t want to feel, not yet. I try to pull away.

“
You can’t stay here,” Stevie says. “You’ll be stuck.”

The water continues to rush in as Myles struggles to keep the door open, his arms straining against the current. He manages to take one of my hands as Stevie holds onto the other, but none of us step through.

“You have to let go of one of us,” Myles says over the sound of rushing water. My collarbone is throbbing, like his fangs never left it.  My arms begin to shake and my legs are heavy.

I don’t want to make more choices. Everything is choices.

Stevie kisses me on the temple, then looks past me and directly at Myles. “You better take care of her.” The warning in his voice is unavoidable.

Myles
nods and before I can fight in either direction, Stevie lets go and Myles pulls me forward. The door slams behind us, loud enough so I hear it over the crashing waves surrounding me once more. I’m back in the water. This time, Myles is submerged with me and Stevie is gone.

No,
The thought echoes in my skull.

My hand is still in Myles’ palm, clamped tight so I can’t break free and swim on my own.
It’s okay,
he tells me.
He’s gone back.

Back where?
I ask, trying desperately and uselessly to paddle away with my free hand. The door has disappeared completely, but I can’t help searching for it.  

No.
It’s his turn to say it. He wraps his arms around me, and I try pushing him away, thrashing almost as much as the water around us. It’s no use.
I’m sorry, Sophie.
The words tumble into my head.
He’s gone.
Then his arms are around mine, trapping me, dragging me down, down, down.

Chapter 3

The Surface

“Awake and unafraid. Asleep or dead?”–My Chemical Romance

Waking up is like shaking a child from a deep sleep. One minute I’m barely conscious, groping around drowsily in the world behind my eyelids, and the next, I’m questioning everything, gasping for oxygen. As soon as I have enough in my lungs, I spit it back out. I’m clawing at my chest; I want to rip it open so the air can get at it that way.

“Shh
.” Hands on me, keeping my wrists still. “You don’t need that anymore.” Myles.

Are we still swimming
or are we drowning?

“
What’s wrong?” Jade. He’s still here.

“
She’s okay,” Myles says. “It’s hard at first.”

Then he directs his attention to me again.
His hands are on my face now and the rest of his body presses into mine, preventing it from moving. I should be trying to push him off but I find myself sinking into him. I want this. I want this almost as much as I want air.

“
Sophie,” he says. “You need to stay here now.”

“
No,” I hiss out though I don’t know what I’m trying to deny.

“
It’s okay,” he says. You think he’d learn by now not to say that anymore. “Just open your eyes.”

I try twisting my head away from his, like that will stop anything.

“Sophie,” he repeats. This time, the tone of his voice has changed. Firmer. So commanding that I have no choice but to freeze and pay attention . Nothing else matters. “I want you to open your eyes. Right now.”

My eyelids unscrew themselves as if a thread behind them has been cut. At first, I only see white because I’m staring at the ceiling. Everything is quiet. I’m afraid that I’m still in between, still about to go under another wave. But then I start to hear things. Someone is breathing next to me and it sounds damp, like they’ve stopped crying but the tears are still lingering, ready to be set free at any moment. There’s rough skin against my hand, squeezing. And there’s a faint buzzing that I can’t place as well.

Opening your eyes after you’ve died, after you’ve come back as something else, is like trying to look through an Etch-a-Sketch while the image is being shaken away: completely unstable and unable to be trusted. When my sight adjusts and everything moving slows down a little bit, the room is too bright. Too colorful. The blue sheet covering me is so harsh that my eyes start tearing.

“
You can blink,” I hear Myles say. “But you have to stay awake.”

My eyes shut and then open
back up. I want to turn my head but I can’t. My entire body is stiff, like I haven’t moved it in days or weeks. Maybe I haven’t.

“
Try to move,” Myles instructs from somewhere to my left. “Just take your time.”

Slowly, my body comes back to life.
Once my eyes start blinking regularly, I can shift my view from left to right. Things still spin once in a while, becoming blurry and then ultra-clear, but it doesn’t last long.  I can see now that Myles is standing near the bed, watching everything I do. Once I know where he is, I try to find Jade. Everything in the room blurs into a brown and white mass until my eyes finally settle on something solid: my brother.

I don’t think I’ve eve
r seen him so tired but somehow he has enough energy to crack a small smile for me. “Hey, Sunshine.” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper.

Some of his blond hair falls in his face and I’m overco
me with a need to brush it away but when I try to move my hands, I can’t get much more of a response besides a faint twitching of my fingers.

A few seconds later,
I can roll my head to the side but I keep my eyes closed in order to avoid looking at Myles. This is hard enough.

It’s now that I think of Stevie and the door. How he pushed me through it. How he left me to drown and come back here.

Did I want to stay with him? Did I want to die?

Opening my eyes again to see Jade looking down at me, holding onto my hand and smiling, I kn
ow the answer is no.

“
You’re doing good,” Jade says to me, though I doubt he can tell.

I test out my lips by
giving him my own small smile; the whole time I keep my gaze trained on my brother. I concentrate everything on squeezing his hand back, and once I’ve done that and my fingers are moving, my arms are easy to bend.

“
Do you want to try to sit up?” I hear Myles ask.

It feels good to nod.

My arms shake when I try to brace myself so they have to help me. Myles touching me is something I want and don’t want simultaneously. And if I think about it too long, I’m afraid I won’t be able to get back up ever again so I push the thought away as they both push me up.

As soon as I’m in the sitting position, Myles steps aside again, but Jade keeps his palm pressed against my back just in case.
It doesn’t take me long at all to bend my legs and after my body accepts that movement, it’s almost easy to inch forward by myself. It’s almost normal placing my feet on the ground.

From behind Jade, Myles clears his throat.

My brother doesn’t leave the bed, only inches backwards slightly, his arm still slung over my shoulders.

Myles is holding something out to Jade, and even though he isn’t more than a foot away, he’s out of focus again.

“Oh,” Jade says.

I steady
myself with both of my arms and Jade’s hand leaves me. Though they blur a few more times, I can still tell they are both studying me, waiting to see what I’ll do next. Then there’s a plain white mug in Jade’s hands.

“
Here,” he says, gesturing for me to take it.

My fingers are a little
shaky, but I grasp onto the mug well enough. I was hoping it would be water. My throat is so dry. But the ceramic is warm when my hands are cupped around it.

“
What is this?” I have to whisper because I don’t think I have it in me to talk.

“
It’ll make you feel better,” Jade says, though he sounds unsure and glances back at Myles for confirmation.

Myles nods. I can see him now. He doesn’t look at me, just Jade.

I take a second to sniff it, too afraid that I already know what it is, and looking into the bottom of the mug would only confirm it. I guess that whole heightened sense of smell thing doesn’t waste any time kicking in; it smells like raw meat heated up in a microwave.

I hand it right back to Jade.
“I don’t want this.”

Jade looks startled, but he takes the mug away. Myles steps in front of him so he’s only inches away from my face.
“You need it,” he says.

My stomach lurches.
“I’m hungry.” I haven’t eaten in so long. I can’t even remember how long it’s been. “I don’t want that,” I insist. I find it incredibly hard to not stare at him, how his skin has somehow become even paler, how his eyes look like polished blue glass. He takes the mug from Jade, holding it in front of him and glancing down at the liquid inside. “It’ll make everything less disorienting for you,” he explains, finally looking back at me. “You have to.”

“
Are you going to make me?” I ask. My mind is slowly snapping things into place. He can control me now, can’t he? Even if I don’t want to drink it, would it even matter?

Myles shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his face.
“No,” he says softly. “I won’t make you do anything. You know that.” He swallows. “But I think you should try to drink this.” He tries to get me to take the mug back from him but I don’t.

“
I want real food,” I say.

He hesitates
but his hand comes to rest between my shoulder blades, like he wants to hug me but is afraid to—I am too. “This will help,” he says into my ear. “This is what your body needs now.”

My stomach growls, hollow and needy at the words.
I swipe the mug back and before I can think about it for a second longer, I take a sip…and immediately start gagging. I have to place a hand over my mouth in order to not spit it all over myself. I shove the mug in Myles’ direction and he doesn’t protest in taking it.

“
Too strong?” he asks, like I just drank coffee or something.

Strong
is a bit of an understatement. It’s thick, warm tar in my mouth. It’s almost impossible to get it down, but I do, too afraid to spit it out.