《The Girl Next Door》Part 33 - Iris

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Ruby cries into my shoulder, and although I'm not sure what she's saying, I try to comfort her by telling her it'll be fine. Pierce goes back into the water to find his mother, and I watch the hot sun burn our skin as the water only tries to kill us. While they were both so pretty, who knew how quickly they could turn against us. One second the water was glossy, as smooth as glass, and the next second, it was thrashing us around and beating our ankles on rough, jagged rocks.

It's hard to believe that I'm here, so close to the man who had pretty much been responsible for my anxiety, my dad's condition, and most importantly, the death of my mother. His eyes are more blue I see, a little bit of brown lingering in them. But I don't feel like that should've been his eye color, like it was some disguise for red eyes. And I know his irises truly aren't red, or the vivid vermilion I'd seen before, but they are the color of evil.

At least, that's what I saw before the car went sinking into the water. I haven't seen him come out of it yet, but if he tries to do anything to Pierce, I'll be ready. That's what I tell myself.

Pierce brings his mother up from the water, who gasps for air as her hair seems polished straight down over her eyes, smooth black strands. Her hands are brought into the air where Pierce brings them, a loose rope being untied and tossed back into the river to get washed away. Her hands were tied up.

When his mother sits by us, she sees Ruby's condition and tries to take her in her arms. But Ruby's most coherent sentence since this big mess began comes out, and that's a powerful, "No!"

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Pierce is still swimming, and with furrowed eyebrows and clear worry etched on my face, I turn to his mother. "What's he still doing in the water? Why isn't he over here with us?"

"I think he's knocking out Robert or something, I don't know."

I shake my head furiously, ignoring Ruby's screams and protests as I hand her to her mother. "Ruby, I promise it can't get any worse from here. And I'm going to help Pierce, but he can't swim by himself like that or something even worse will happen."

It's plainly obvious how out of shape I am because I have to breathe heavily and my limbs are all sore from the little swimming exercise. It doesn't help that I'm a crappy swimmer but apparently I'm good enough to have lasted this long. Suddenly I hear yelling and splashing in the water, before a low gurgling noise. I look over to see what happened, and even though he's facing the same direction and I'm behind him, it's a man attempting to drown his own son.

It's so terrible I almost break into a coughing fit during the entire thing, but I tell myself I have to think fast and grab a thick, dark log. It's hard to swim with and I just keep watching the bubbles from Pierce rise to the top just to pop. Rising and popping. What happens... when they stop rising?

I push my thoughts away for now and swing the slimy stick in my fingers as hard and fast as I can towards Robert's head. After a perfect shot, Pierce swims to the top and coughs, taking in some precious air. I feel a little accomplished, pretty proud of myself that I took him down for a moment. Then I remind myself that he won't be out forever and-

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I feel Robert's rough hand wrap around my ankle before he digs his nails into my skin and slowly drags me down. I try to cry for help but my screams uselessly turns into air bubbles that only conceal. Just some other mask.

I struggle to break free from Robert's determined grip and try to beat his fists, but it doesn't work. He climbs to the top and pulls my hair to get to the surface - the only chance I have to breathe in some air, which I do - before I'm shoved back under the water. I try to fight but it's no use. He's so much heavier and stronger than I am, and obviously he naturally has a lot more pent-up anger than I do.

This is the underwater trap I've feared my entire life. Metaphorical or physical, it comes back and always finds a way to silence me, just like this exact moment.

Black dots start to prickle the corners of my vision before they slowly swell and become warped blobs that make my heart beat faster and faster like that'll help. I try to blink away the spots but they just keep growing along with an overwhelming exhaustion that weighs my lungs down. The water makes my skin feel like it's rotting, but it's more manageable than what I can (or can't) see. The feelings make it harder but once everything goes black and I can no longer see anything - not even the scarlet eyes or the sweaty face of my killer - I know that this is the death that I've been waiting for.

And, all of a sudden, I'm just not ready for it.

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