It began by the sea as it usually does. This time there was no tidal wave but a crashing eternity of raging white horses. The water was warm. I walked in until it was up to my waist and then let myself fall back into it and under.
I was invisible to the almost-identical blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls going about their day in near silence, with the softest of steps. The only sound in any of the rooms came from delicate whispers in a language I did not speak.
I try to lock all the doors but they won’t stay locked. I hear a window breaking. There is blood on my hands. I think, “Never go upstairs.”
Next, it was night and I was older, standing outside my house in the pouring rain, crying, as a young man stood in front of me covered in blood and wearing ripped clothes. I could hear sirens...