But as long as Sunday is alive, as long as she makes it out of her loops, it will be worth it.
It hasalwaysbeen worth it.
Part I Little Lamb
Playlist for this part.
2
August 14th
The bathtub is overflowing.
Standing above it, I’m able to see a girl slumped over. The way her hair flutters eerily in the water. The ripples caused by the faucet steadily pouring down.
The girl isn’t moving.
The girl is dead.
Iam the girl.
“This was about the eighth go ‘round. They sent you off to our grandmother’s but you were just so lonely, so anxious. You held your breath too long, the panic took hold, and just like that, you died,” my brother murmurs, his voice wrapping around me in a warm caress.
Turning my head, I search for his familiar eyes, his comforting form.
But he isn’t here.
I am alone in this bathroom. I am with my corpse.
An oxymoron.
My mind races and gyrates in anxiety. I attempt to wrap my arms around myself, to comfort myself, but I can’t feel anything. My skin is translucent, and I am acutely aware that I both exist anddon’tin this plane.
Schrodinger’s Sunday.
My senses are dulled in this state, except my heart. It pounds painfully in my chest,loudly.
“Look closer.” This time it isn’t Auggie, but my boyfriend Tripp. Mydeadboyfriend.
My vision shakes as I shiver in unease.
I don’t want to look closer. I don’t want to examine how sickly pale my skin is, how the water carries on up and over the bathtub’s edge, flooding the floor below. How the puddle grows and grows, slowly slinking towards the bathroom door.
Reaching forward, I attempt to turn off the faucet, but my fingers shimmer as they brush through it.
“You need to see it. You need to understand,” Auggie says. His voice is gentle, but there is more to it.
His tone reminds me of when he was helping me with my homework.
As if I am so close to all the answers I need, but it is my own stupidity and anxiety that keeps me from getting there.
Narrowing my eyes, I attempt to follow his guidance. I want to trust him, to believe that I will magicallyunderstand, but internally I am panicking.
My memories are a foggy mess, but I remember the pain. Darius’s gentle fingers. The sirens.
Julia.
My best friend.
