It’s terrifying. But I nod my head, waiting for the next surge.
The idea of surrendering to the pain, of letting it overtake me completely, is terrifying. But I figure it can’t hurt any worse than what I’ve just experienced.
“Breathe,” says Malia. “Let the breath fill your belly, your back.”
I nod, and in the distance, I sense the pain approaching me like a wave on the horizon, out at sea. I watch it. And as it swells, I imagine myself floating in the water on top of it.
I breathe and, in my mind, let myself float.
This time, the pain is intense, all-encompassing—but bearable.
“Just remember, it will peak. Then it will dissipate,” says Malia.
I nod. And just as before, the pain spikes. This time, I’m ready for it, feeling my body float upward, then crest the wave before falling back down and sloshing into the sand.
As the pain dissipates, I imagine water soaking into the sand, withdrawing back into the ocean.
“How was that?” asks Malia.
“Better,” I say.
“Now,” she says. “We just have to do that again.”
“How many times?” I grunt.
Malia doesn’t answer.
CHAPTER 39
As the surges intensify, I lose the ability to distinguish between seconds and minutes, hours and days. Even so, I find myself more able to cope as Malia coaches me along.
I can’t help but wish that Nolan were here, but if I let my mind fixate on that ache too deeply, I remember that I’ll never see him again. And that pain is too much to bear.
I focus on making it through the excruciating pain of the moment. There are times during surges where I revert back to tucking myself away, like I so often did during the long nights with Peter—hiding myself in the closet of my own mind until the agony is over and I steal a minute of relief. Still, I find those surges more difficult to bear than the ones where I heed Malia’s voice and open the closet door, inviting the pain in. There’s something about the invitation that allows my muscles to relax, accept.
Eventually something shifts. The pain intensifies, and the breaks in between seem no longer than a moment to jut my head above the raging waters and gulp a meager breath before the next current drags me under.
What I thought was pain before I now recognize as simply discomfort. My spine is the thread at the tip of a seam ripper. Over and over, lightning strikes my abdomen, each flood of piercing light followed by waves of darkness.
I’m faintly aware that my eyes are still open, but I can no longer see. As darkness encroaches on my vision, nausea sweeps through me in waves upon which I am no longer able to float.
I writhe atop the boulder upon which I’m draped, still clinging to its slick surface, wet with my sweat.
“I can’t do this.” The words are not mine, but some primal being within me. A creature who, up until this point, I’ve had no awareness of sharing my body with.You’re killing us, it screams, its unfamiliar voice piercing my skull.
My vision flashes in and out, enough for me to witness Malia returning to my side. She glances down at the contents of my stomach, now spilled across the rock. I don’t remember that happening.
Another surge of pain hits me and I retch, though this time nothing comes out. At the same time, something pops, the sound echoing through the cavern as a rush of water pours down my legs and onto the cave floor.
Everything intensifies.
“I can’t do this!” I scream. “Make it stop. Please make it stop.”
“You’re in transition,” she says. “This is the shortest part. You’re almost done. It’s almost over.”
Malia goes to pull my hair back and away from my shoulders. I swat at her arms, her touch just as nausea-inducing as the pain.
“I told you I can’t do this!” I cry. “I can’t do this without Nolan. Please, please, tell someone to go get him.”
