Chapter 3: Anna

"Hey Lucky," Anna grins, "I'd hug you but. . ." she gestures to her dripping clothes and hair. I tried once, but the moment I touched her I was soaking. I left a puddle behind me for days, no amount of towels or heat could dry me off.

It was so cold.

"That's alright," I assure her, "It's not your fault."

"And it's not yours either," she fixes me with a stern glare. There's no use arguing with her, she has all eternity to fight back.

"Any word from Mum?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Not yet," she drops her gaze to the floor. Neither one of us have seen her since the accident, "I tried to visit Dad once, but he can't see me."

"He doesn't see me half the time either," I say, my attempt at humor. She lifts the corners of her mouth half-heartedly.

This is all my fault.

"Are you happy?" I inquire, "The truth this time."

"I don't know," she shrugs, "I'm in and out. Sometimes I'm still floating, sometimes I'm drowning. The water just fills my lungs, over and over again." Her eyes well up with tears, a mix of fear and defeat.

"I'm only nineteen Lucky," she keeps going, voice breaking, "How am I dead?"

"I don't know," I tell her, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Lucky, stop. It's okay," she tries to calm me down, but it's too late. I have to say it again and again until I get it right. I never get it right.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I end.

"Lucky," she sighs, returning to the painting with a final stroke of red-gold fire, "I'm just upsetting you, I need to go."

"Back to the water?" I squeeze my eyes shut. Images flash across the backs of my eyelids: Anna tethered to the lake bottom by seaweed and stringy moss, Anna as part of a forgotten shipwreck, and the worst of all, what happened that night. Over and over again, in dreams or waking hours, I see it and I hear it.

“No!” I snap. “Not yet, please. You just got here.” She sinks into the ground and sits down, her legs crossed and the bottom of her feet black like an oil slick. If I look close enough, I’m sure I could see the barnacles growing on her heels.

“I’m sorry we left you there,” I whisper. She catches the wisps of words in her hands, letting them fall through her fingers like sand.

“It’s not so bad. I think the fish are starting to like me. One of them is making a nest in my hair.” She pulls at the strands to show me.

“Anna, you can stay here, you know.” No sooner do I say it than she starts fading.

"I’ve got to go," her eyes crumple, "I’ll be fine."

Anna was always such a bad liar. She’s terrified, I know it. I try to protest, but she’s already gone. I lay down and press my face to the carpet, trying to forget.

My phone buzzes a couple moments later.

Let's not fight, Cecelia wouldn't have wanted it

How would he know what Mum wanted? It’s not like any of us ever understood her.

"Another text from your father?" Fortune crawls out from my closet.

"Not right now, okay?" I beg.

"Sure," she nods. She always leaves me alone when my sister visits. Anna can see her, and I think that scares her more than being invisible. I jam my earbuds into my ears, hard. It hurts sometimes, but it drowns out my memories.

And ironic as it is, I need to drown.