Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for violence.
The rain blinded me as I watched her as she slowly drifted away from me. It was my fault that she was there.
“Audrey!”, I shouted. “Audrey!” I checked my wrist watch, checking her vitals. Her heart rate was so low that I thought she was already dead. I started to cry.
“Audrey!” I shouted. But no response. I was swimming as fast as I could. I tried to scream her name again, but water flooded my lungs. I spit out the water and took a deep breath. “AUDREY!!!”, I screamed. It was fruitless.
As I got closer I could see that her head was completely submerged in the water. If she couldn’t breathe, she was going to die. Her unconscious body drifted farther out. I swam faster. My arms and legs were on fire. I had to save her. This was all my fault. I never should have let her go out in this weather. The rain got harder.
I checked my watch and the screen flashed, the weather interfering with my signal to her watch. I looked up and screamed her name. “AUDREY!!!”
And then I saw it. The massive wave headed right for her. Her vitals said twenty-five more seconds. I was still at least a minutes swim away. I swam so hard I could barely breathe. “AUDREY!!!” I screamed, and screamed. Fifteen seconds left, thirty seconds out. The wave got bigger, and closer. Ten seconds left, fifteen seconds out.
The wave hit her, and sent her boogie-board and unconscious body tumbling. She was dead. I felt it in my gut. I just lost my daughter. And it was all my fault.
FOX broke the story first. “Sixteen-year-old Audrey Mason drowned at Virginia beach last night, after a fight with her father. Nicodemous, the father, provides no comment at this time, but his guilt was evident last night, as he dragged her lifeless body ashore. Why would he ever let his teenage daughter go swimming in a thunder-storm, you ask? Again, no comment at this ti—” I jammed my thumb into the power-button on my remote, shutting it down. I sighed.
After FOX’s horrible news report, I made a tough decision. Time to make a friendly bet. With two-hundred thousand dollars at stake. I called Charity, David, Alyssa, and Kyle. I told them about Audrey and about my new idea.
“Project Elanor”, I advertised to the gang. “We each design one girl. A perfect, smart, ‘straight A’, girl, and then we reverse her, each creating two girls. Okay?” I paused. There was a chorus of confused, “Okay?’s”
I continued. “We create a name for the good one, and break it up, for the bad one. For example, Audrey—good one, and Aud—bad one.” I smiled, satisfied with the idea of bringing back my daughter.
“Alright!”, Kyle enthused. “I’m in. I’ve already got my idea.”
“Sure”, Alyssa said, her voice trilling.
“Okay. David said, he sounded like he had a mouthful of chips.
“I'm in. But I have one question”, Charity said.
“Shoot”, I said.
“Why did you have to name the project off of your ex-wife?” I pictured her light grey-blue pixie cut and frail frame, and almost laughed at her stern-almost-chastising-question.
But I answered in all seriousness, “Because she’s Audrey’s mother.”