I sucked in a deep breath and water immediately rushed into my mouth, choking me. My chest spasmed and my eyes flew open as I began to flail. I could only see glimpses of the world around me through the water that I was throwing around with my frantic movements as panic raced through me. My lungs ached. Pain speared me and my stomach clenched to try and expel the water but I was still in the pool. I needed to get out before I could do anything to stop myself from choking.

Luckily, I was near the ladder though. I reached out semi-blindly and heaved myself out of the pool, my chest burning as I coughed. I grabbed my towel from the bench nearest to me, pushing it against my mouth. I knew that it was stupid. I was basically choking and I should be focusing on that but instead, I was just panicking about my mom hearing me choke and coming in.

How would I deal with that? How could I possibly explain it to her? I couldn’t exactly say that I was fantasising about another world and in that world, I was sucked into a weird time loop situation where I continuously drowned and my boyfriend, my first love, had to try to save me each time even though we both knew it was pointless? No, it would be stupid. She’d laugh at me or she just wouldn’t believe me and I wasn’t sure which was worse.

No, I was. I didn’t care about her not believing me but her laughing at me and mocking me would be unbearable. I would hate that so so much.

Another cough overtook me and I spat water onto the towel. It was thick, stringy. Mucus dangled from my mouth but I wiped it away, ignoring the faint twinges from my chest. I’d managed to cough up enough water. I was fine.

I took a deep breath, almost trying to prove that to myself, but nausea came out of nowhere. I couldn’t hold it back. I was too weak, too drained from dying in another world and almost dying in this one. Vomit burnt my throat as it battled me but I couldn’t fight it. I puked into the towel, too weak to even crawl to the nearby toilet.

Shame, embarrassment and heartbreak threatened to overwhelm me and I couldn’t move off the floor. I was so embarrassed that I’d almost drowned in my grandparent’s pool and why? Because my imagination got away from me? It was a ridiculous reason, one I could never tell anyone about. But even as I thought that, my heart was gripped with such pain that I wanted to cry. I almost did cry.

Heartbreak rocked me, making the tears that were starting to dry on my face begin to flow again. It was stupid. I was crying over Aaron and the world I’d been in. It wasn’t real, I was pretty sure of that, but I was so horrifically sad. I didn’t even have my towel to press to my mouth this time to muffle my sobs so I had to settle for pressing both of my hands to my lips, smushing them shut so that my mom wouldn’t hear.

Luckily, I was pretty good at crying silently. Silent sobs overwhelmed me, leaving me crying in a ball on the floor. The intensity of the pain took me by surprise. It felt like a physical pain. Like someone had stabbed me through the chest or set fire to my heart or something. I cried until my breath came in short gasps that aggravated my lungs and made my ribs ache with every moment but even then, I didn’t stop.

I just couldn’t stop thinking about Aaron. I had died in that world, I knew that, but now, I could remember everything. Every single moment I had spent with him, from the first time I’d seen him when I was eight to the first time I died in that world. He’d been my best friend. We’d grown up together. We were inseparable but it wasn’t until I was thirteen that I realised I loved him. He was the only person I loved but he didn’t know then that he was cursed. Maybe if he did, things would have gone differently.

I remembered all of the other times too. Every time I met him as a new person with no memories of who I actually was. I came into being one day, somehow part of a family with people who knew me and loved me. I wasn’t sure if I was taking over an existing person’s life or if I was just slotted into a world, ready to torture Aaron with just my presence before finally dying. I wasn’t sure but I knew I couldn’t go back, as much as that hurt.

Even if I didn’t, he’d still be there. He would still be stuck waiting for me to come back, waiting for Beth. Maybe another girl would show up. Someone else who looked just like me and would fall into his life before breaking him once more. Would she get my memories, whoever the new girl was? Would she die and remember everything, every moment with him including mine? I wasn’t sure.

I felt like I should be unnerved by that thought or scared. I didn’t want anyone to have my memories but if it meant that Aaron got more time with Beth, I didn’t mind it. I just hoped they’d have longer together the next time. That he’d be able to actually spend time with her before she dies again.

Would that make it worse? Would it be harder for him to fall in love again and be able to actually spend time with her before she inevitably dies? I want to hope that she won’t die next time. That something will happen and they’ll break the curse but I know it’s stupid. He’ll be trapped there forever, unable to leave or move forwards at all because every time he does, he just wakes up back in his bed at Amy’s and everyone forgets that he ever mentioned leaving. No. It will never get better for him. He’s destined to suffer forever.

I sat up slowly, wiping the tears and snot from my face before wiping my hand on the only clean part of the towel. I couldn’t continue to mourn Aaron and the life we could have had. I needed to put it out of my mind and move on, no matter how hard that felt.

And the first step was getting up and working out what to do with the towel. I couldn’t put it through the wash. My mom was always in the kitchen until she was going outside for a cigarette or watching something in the lounge. There was no way that I’d get to the washing machine without her seeing unless I snuck about which would make her suspicious. Plus, I’d need to hide the towel somewhere until then. The smell was mostly hidden by chlorine but I knew that I couldn’t stash it somewhere in my room or anywhere else.

I needed to bin it. It was a stupid thought and I knew that but I couldn’t keep it. The white towel was covered in watery brown vomit, stained by my earlier coffee. It would be too obvious, even if I were to wash it. It needed to go in the bin. But how?

My immediate thought was the big bins outside. She wouldn’t check in there. She didn’t take the bins out, the cleaner did. But there was no way for me to get outside without her noticing. I mean, I could climb out a window to get there but that was too suspicious. If she walked into the pool and I wasn’t there, she would wait for me.

I’d need to put it into the bin in the bathroom. It was big and barely used. The horrifically strong scent of the air freshers in there would overpower the smell of chlorine and vomit. As long as I stuff the towel down in the bin and made sure it was covered with stuff, my mom will never notice.

I started to push myself up, my chest screaming in agony and my legs shaking. I almost slipped onto the cold tile floor but I managed to get myself onto my hands and knees. I pulled the corners of the towel together before pausing. I needed to check and make sure that she wasn’t in the hall. She could be on her way out for a cigarette and then I’d have to answer far too many questions and I just didn’t want to do that.

I couldn’t, I still felt too fragile. I felt like I would burst into tears again at any moment and how would I explain to her that my fantasies were so real that I felt physical pain and that I couldn’t stop turning to them because my reality was so hard to deal with that it was the only way I could cope. No. I couldn’t explain that to her. I never would be able to.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and slowly pushed myself up until I was standing. The water in my stomach sloshed disgustingly as I moved, almost making me throw up again. How much water had I accidentally swallowed and when? Was it just what I had swallowed that one time or had I been drinking the water as I swam and drowned in the other world?

I wasn’t sure but I pressed one hand against my bloated stomach as I leant around the doorframe and stared into the hall beyond. I couldn’t see my mom from there and I strained my ears to listen, hoping to pick up some sign that she was still in there or was outside. I couldn’t hear anything though and I knew that I couldn’t wait any longer.

I edged back towards the dirty towel that I’d left on the floor, picking it up as carefully as I could. The liquid had mostly sunk into the fabric, leaving just chunks behind, and I fought the urge to throw up again. I could feel it bubbling up in my throat but I pushed it aside as hard as I could.

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Sweat beaded on my forehead again as I snuck towards the door and peered out. There was still no sign of her and so I stepped out of the door. The cold tiles stung my bare feet as I crept over them towards the bathroom door, making goosebumps erupt on my skin. My hands shook and I could feel sweat dripping down my face. It was just a few steps, no more than maybe ten, but it felt like it took a lifetime to get there.

I was almost there, almost safe, when I heard a noise from the kitchen. A loud scraping noise filled the air and I froze. My ears strained to work out what was happening as I stood just outside the bathroom. I knew that it would be smartest to dart inside and shut the door but I couldn’t move. I listened carefully as footsteps sounded.

They weren’t moving towards me though. Relief crashed into me as I heard my mom walk further away from me before the loud noise of the kettle filled the air and I could finally move again.

I rushed into the bathroom, immediately opening the stupidly oversized bin and shoving the towel deep inside. I ignored the disgust that hit me as I pushed the towel deeper and deeper, liquid from the towel spilling out onto my hand. Finally, I pulled back, gagging and shaking my hand to get rid of one of the chunks that clung to it.

I turned the tap on with my cleaner hand and started scrubbing my hands to clean them. It didn’t feel like enough though. The cloying scent of heavily perfumed soap wafted through the air as I continued to rub my hands. They were pink and stinging before I was finally satisfied that they were clean.

I turned the tap off and leaned heavily against the sink before looking up at my reflection. I looked a mess, that much was clear. My face was red still and my chest was too. I was sweating, shiny, and puffy, but once I met my own gaze in the mirror, I couldn’t look away.

They looked different. I mean, they were still the same colour as before and everything but there was something about them that looked… different. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed but I looked… older, maybe? Haunted. I had the eyes of someone who had seen death, who had seen too much. Something about me had been changed, I had lost something.

Maybe it was just having experienced death, having experienced heartbreak. I knew what it was like to suffer. Part of me was forever changed by what had happened.

I sighed and looked away. I was being stupid. Over dramatic. Nothing had happened, not really. I had almost choked in real life but that was nothing. People choked every day, I needed to get over it.

I knew that but I could still feel it. The sensation of water rushing into my lungs, the inescapable feeling of sinking lower and lower into the lake, something that Beth had experienced many times, stuck with me. I couldn’t get the image of Aaron’s face out of my head either.

The way the younger Aaron stared at me as I was dragged away was burnt into my mind. I wasn’t sure that I would ever forget it.

A shaky breath slipped out of my mouth as I glanced back at my reflection. I needed to pull it together. I pulled my shoulders back and raised my chin. I needed to finish cleaning up my mess and act like nothing had happened, even though I still hurt and my hands were trembling lightly. I needed to work out what I had to do, that would help.

A knock came from the door and I jumped so hard that I’m pretty sure both feet left the ground.

“Are you almost done in there? We need to leave soon,” my mother’s voice snapped sharply.

“Yes,” I called back, my voice shaking.

There was a pause and I wasn’t sure what she was waiting for but I had nothing left to say. After a moment, I heard her footsteps move across the hall.

I folded in half, dropping my head to rest against the cold edge of the sink, and tried to breathe deeply. I hurt. I hurt all over but I needed to get it together.

Standing once more, I took another deep breath and looked away from my reflection, my eyes falling on the bin. I needed to cover up the towel so that my mom wouldn’t see it. Not that she was going to go rooting through the bin, I didn’t think. She might though. If she thought I was hiding something in there or doing something that I shouldn’t, she would.

My eyes scanned the room as I searched for something to use, falling on the almost empty toilet roll. I started to pull some off, taking far too much and crumpling it up as if I had used it to blow my nose before opening the bin and peering in.

Some things were already covering the towel. I had pushed it in deeply which meant that some things had spilt over it, that was good. I carefully placed the scrunched-up toilet roll in my hand onto the towel, trying to make it look natural, before pulling the rest of the roll off and doing the same. That was almost enough to cover it. I dropped the cardboard centre of the roll in too.

There, that was enough. She wouldn’t look too closely at that.

I started to reach for the tap to wash my hands again before realising that it would seem suspicious if I left the room without flushing the toilet. I pulled the handle and washed my hands once more before opening the door.

I half expected my mom to be waiting outside, ready to pounce and demand to know what I was doing in there and why I took so long, but she didn’t. The hall outside the bathroom was empty and suspiciously quiet.

I padded across it, my heart pounding. I knew that I needed to go through the kitchen to get to my room and I was worried that my mom was going to ask where my towel was. I had no way to explain that. I would just need to tell her I’d left it in the pool room or something. She might go and check though and then I’d be stuck. I just needed to act like nothing had happened, like everything was normal, then she wouldn’t ask any questions.

I lifted my chin again and forced a slight smile onto my face before striding towards the kitchen. I watched her carefully as I continued through the room towards the door on the other side. I was so close. I almost made it when she began to talk.

“I heard a commotion,” she said.

It was a statement, not a question. I didn’t need to answer it, not really. I knew that I did though, as tempted as I was to keep walking.

Slowly, I turned back towards her, making sure to hold my back straight and my expression neutral.

“Yes,” I replied, my mind racing to think of an excuse. “I pushed myself too hard, breathed at the wrong time.”

It was a weak excuse but she didn’t even look up at me. Her eyes were still fixed on her book but they weren’t moving. She was purposefully not looking at me.

“Maybe we should put you into swimming lessons,” she suggested blithely. “I just assumed that you’d be able to teach yourself, like I did.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

I had been swimming in the pool at my grandparent’s house, without supervision, for years. I knew it was just a dig, she just wanted a way to compare us and imply that she was better than me. I didn’t want to rise to it though. Calmness swept through me and I barely felt any irritation.

“That would be fun,” I replied with a smile. “I do really enjoy swimming so it would be nice to do it more when I’m at home.”

A flash of annoyance crossed her face so quickly that I barely noticed it and I knew that she was angry that I wasn’t upset by her comment but she didn’t say anything. After a moment, her eyes started moving again and I knew that she was ignoring me.

I turned, feeling a flutter of triumph and continued down the hall. I hadn’t risen to her dig and I’d annoyed her. That felt like a win and it made me too happy even as worry started to edge into my heart again.

I hoped that she wouldn’t follow through on her suggestion. I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t, it was just made to try and upset me, but I really didn’t want to have swimming lessons. I didn’t want to go in a pool again, not for a while at least. I could still feel water splashing in my stomach with every step and my lungs ached. Even my head hurt.

What if it happened again? What if I drowned in another world whilst swimming or if I was just so distracted that I didn’t pay attention to reality and almost downed again? A shudder ripped through me.

I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want to drown.

I stopped, my foot poised above the step and ready to climb as a thought hit me. What would happen if I died in real life? Would I die in all of the fantasies too? Or would they continue on without me? I mean, things continued happening when I wasn’t there in the other dreams so surely they would keep going, right?

Or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe, one day, I would disappear from Mitch’s world without a trace. I would just be gone with no trace or no explanation. Then what?

He would assume that I’d been kidnapped. He would think that the Sterlings got me and he would try and find me again.

Would he ever give up?

Something told me that he wouldn’t and that made the guilt within me intensify. It made me want to go back to him but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bare to look at him, knowing what I had done.

I pushed the guilt aside and continued up the stairs. I needed to shower before we went out, I realised as I hesitated outside my bedroom door and lifted a hand to my hair. It was almost entirely dry. I must have been curled up on the floor crying for ages for it to be so dry. I wasn’t even sure what time it was or how much time had passed since I climbed into the pool.

My eyebrows pulled together. I didn’t have my phone. Did I leave it in my room? Or was it in the pool? I didn’t remember.

Pushing my bedroom door open, I scanned the room quickly. Not there. I must have left it downstairs. I silently debated going down to get it now before dismissing it. It wasn’t worth it. I could shower and then go down, otherwise, my mom would get annoyed. She’d tell me that I was taking too long to get ready and that we would be late before accusing me of being addicted to my phone and unable to be without it for even five minutes, even though she was worse than I was. She was never without her phone for more than a few minutes.

I pulled my door shut and walked into the bathroom. I’d shower and then go down. That was fine. I could be alone with my thoughts for that long without a distraction, it wouldn’t be too bad.

It took me less than a minute to reach for that familiar dizziness again.