Undertow

As we left the station, I was waiting for Annie to start yelling. But she stayed quiet, focused on the road. It was strange—and uncomfortable. I hated when she yelled, but at least then I could yell back. The silence was worse, unfamiliar. So I tried to break it.

“Look, I know you agreed to that volunteering thing to get me out, and I am grateful for that.”

She scoffed, and I felt my pulse spike, but I pressed on.

“Anyway, I was thinking, maybe we can, you know, just pretend I was there. It'll be easier for both of us.”

Her smirk disappeared. Her expression went cold.

“No, Marina. You're not getting away with this. You will do all of the seventy hours, and I'll make sure of it.”

Of course she would. Making my life miserable was practically her hobby. Probably the only one she had. Still, I had to try. Anything to avoid that place. I hated hospitals.

She looked like she was entering her about-to-yell mode again, so I treaded carefully. I gathered every ounce of patience and tried to sound calm.

“Okay... but what’s in it for you?”

She didn’t answer right away. I was halfway through imagining something, anything, that might get me off the hook when she finally replied.

“Maybe you’ll grow up when you see the things I have to look at every day.”

There it was—boiling anger. Something familiar. Grow up? As if I hadn’t already. I cooked half the meals, washed her clothes, and she was talking about growing up? And acting like I didn’t know what a hospital looked like...

It must’ve shown on my face, because she softened—barely.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I know you spent a fair share of time visiting your mom in the hospital, but you only saw one room.”

One room. The one where I spent a year and a half of my childhood, visiting almost every day. The one where I hoped and prayed and watched things fall apart. The one that smelled like death and something worse.

I was angry. And tired. I felt tears sting my eyes again.

“Let me out of the car,” I said.

“No, I’m driving you home, it’s late—”

“LET ME OUT OF THE CAR OR I WILL JUMP OUT!”

I was already unbuckling when she stopped. She looked at me, stunned—almost afraid.

I slammed the door and started walking. A few seconds later, she followed.

I picked up the pace, half-running, but she kept up. Of course she did. Stubborn as ever.

“Marina, we need to talk—”

“You’ve already said enough.”

“No, look, I know I said what I shouldn’t, and I am sorry. Really.”

It sounded... genuine. I almost believed it. Almost.

“But threatening to jump out of the car is... way too much. I might have to reconsider the officer’s advice about getting you back to therapy.”

No. Not that. The volunteering was bad enough—I didn’t need another stranger with a clipboard adding to the mess.

I’d done plenty of therapy after Mom died. All thanks to Annie. She’d wanted more off-time with my dad, and the best way to get it was to ship me off to a therapist while they had dinner dates. Disgusting.

Still, she looked serious. Concerned. So I forced a laugh.

“Oh. You thought I was serious? I just wanted to get away from you.”

Her face tightened again. She muttered something I didn’t catch, turned, and stomped back to the car.

Then she yelled, “Get back in!”

I obliged. Guess we were back in familiar territory.

Luckily, she had to go back to work, so she dropped me off and left.

First thing I did? Unfriended Eris and the rest of the backstabbers. I figured if Annie remembered to confiscate my phone later, I had to move fast.

I would never forgive them. I didn’t know which one took the bag, but I gave all their names. Let the cops figure it out.

I wasn’t a snitch. I’d stayed quiet about the graffiti incident. Almost got in trouble for it. If I had messed up, I’d have taken the hit for everyone. But using my tricks against me?

That was low. So I returned the favor.

Wish it felt like a win. But it didn’t. I still got the worst punishment of all. Just the thought of that hospital made my stomach twist.

I tried to sleep it off. Maybe I’d get a few hours in a world that didn’t hate me.

No such luck. Eris called. I blocked her. Ten minutes later, I got a picture of my face pasted on a rat from an unknown number.

Their declaration of war.

Fine.

It probably meant one of them got caught.

Good.

Still, it felt... hollow. Suddenly I realized how completely alone I was. No friends. No Mom. Dad, miles away and too busy. Not one person I could call.

Tears came again. Third time today. At least this time, no one was around to see.

The weekend passed too fast. Monday morning, I felt sick just thinking about school. I considered begging Annie to let me stay home, but she was already gone.

She’d left a note next to a set of scrubs: I expect you at the hospital at 2 p.m.

Great.

She’d definitely call if I tried to bail, so I didn’t bother trying.

School was so bad that I almost looked forward to the hospital.

Almost.

But the second I saw the building, my legs turned to stone. Suddenly, getting stuff thrown at me in class didn’t sound so bad.

I stood there, frozen, until Annie appeared. She was doing that angry walk she had, heading for her car—until she saw me. Then she stopped. Blinked.

“You came.”

She looked me up and down. “Why are you so dirty?”

I scrambled for a distraction and pointed to a stain on her scrubs. “I should be asking you the same.”

“A baby.”

She raised a brow, waiting for me to answer. I had to give her something.

“Guess I could say the same. Just not one, but a bunch of babies.”

She actually chuckled. I think that was a first.

She then led me inside to clean up. The room we used smelled more like a locker room than a hospital, so I lingered. But eventually, I had to face it.

To my surprise, I wasn’t going to be with Annie. She introduced me to an older nurse named Gemma, then told her to do “whatever she wants” with me.

Gemma smiled warmly, and I immediately liked her. She wasn’t Annie. That alone made her great.

Annie always took over when “teaching.” The first time I cooked, she hovered, did half the work herself. By the third time, I gave up and did it alone when she wasn’t around. She was impressed—but also mad. Since then, I avoided any “lessons” from her.

With Gemma, I had hope. Maybe I’d actually get to do something.

“So, what’s my verdict, Gemma?” I asked.

“Whatever you want to do, darling,” she said kindly.

I blinked. I had no idea what that meant.

As if reading my mind, she added, “There are various activities. You can spend time talking or reading to people. Help the cleaning ladies. Sort some papers.”

None of those sounded great. Talking to people was out. After today? No thanks.

Cleaning was intense, and I wasn’t in the mood to choke on bleach fumes. Half of that horrible hospital smell was thanks to them too.

I must’ve made a face, because Gemma tilted her head. “Perhaps weeding out the garden would do?”

Yes. Yes! I nodded eagerly.

She told me where to find the tools and sent me on my way. I nearly sprinted to the shed.

Gloves on, tools in hand, I checked my watch. 3:15. If I hustled, I could knock out an hour. Maybe two.

The garden was bigger than I expected. I picked a small patch and got to work.

But not even two minutes passed before a woman strolled over.

“Are you new here? What’s your name? How come someone so young is working?”

I forced a polite smile and small answers, but I was already done. The moment that patch was clear, I moved on—looking for somewhere quiet.

Then I saw it. A weeping willow in the corner of the yard. Beautiful and empty. Except for one boy sitting on a bench. He was so into his book he didn’t even notice me.

Perfect.

He was probably visiting someone. I used to do the same when visiting Mom.

I knelt by the willow and got to work. The weeds here were tougher—probably no one touched this part in a while. But it was peaceful.

Suddenly, the boy laughed. Loud, light, beautiful. But I wasn’t in the mood for being laughed at again.

I stood up, took a step toward him. “What?”

He looked up, startled. His ears turned red. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Then he laughed again, softer this time. He closed the book and offered a hand.

“I’m Rei.”

I reached out, forgetting the gloves. Realizing too late, I pulled back and facepalmed.

“Sorry! Forgot I had them on.”

And then I realized I’d just smeared my own dirty glove across my face.

Oh. My. God.

I ripped off the gloves and tossed them like they were cursed. I wanted to disappear.

But Rei just laughed harder. That kind of laugh—the contagious kind. And despite everything, I found myself laughing with him.

For a moment, I didn’t feel stupid. I didn’t feel drained.

I just felt happy.

Until his laughter turned into a harsh, endless cough.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, moving closer.

He couldn’t answer. He fumbled for a handkerchief, dropped it, and I picked it up for him.

That’s when I saw it, all over his hand.

Blood.