Chapter 45: Elodie

When I was ten, Dad took me on vacation to the beach. It was a rare thing, getting to play in the ocean, and I strayed out too far and got caught in a riptide. I still remembered being tossed like a ragdoll, powerless against the surging current that dragged me, while my hands scrabbled for purchase against the sandy bottom. By the time I fought my way free, I was half a mile down the beach.

Fighting my way back to consciousness was worse than that. Every virtual inch was a struggle, and each time I came anywhere near the surface, the tranquilizers dragged me back under. It would have been an easy thing to let go and just sink into oblivion. But my father didn't know that Patrick was a killer. Who knew what the son of a bitch was doing to Dad while I was off in a drug induced stupor.

That thought made me stop struggling for a bit. What was I going to wake up to? More blood? More death? The body of the only other person in the world who'd ever cared about me?

No!