Marina

The sea was cold, ice cold, and even in my other form it hurt me to the bone. For I was still human, I still had basic human emotions and feelings - although both were dulled somewhat - and I still needed warmth and food. But I couldn’t prevent that horrible heart wrenching yearn for the sea. The one that stole over me that night; the one that made me so thirsty it was imaginable. I needed the sea and it wanted me.

The first time it happened I thought I was going mad. I slipped out of my bed, hands trembling, my silky Victoria Secret nightie swaying around my body like a flimsy sheath. All I could focus on was water, water, water, as I almost seemed to swim down the stairs, lying on my stomach. I dragged myself so hard along the floor that I caused the tips of my nails to start bleeding. “What’s happening to me?” I thought, “Why am I doing this!?”. But I couldn’t stop. Finally, I reached the cool, freezing even, linoleum of the kitchen floor. I pressed my burning skin against it. I had never felt so grateful for my ice cold kitchen before. Then, at last, I began to be able to breath again - but not for long. There was something odd about the way I was breathing. It was different - it didn’t feel right, and then as I stood up, ready to emerge myself under the tap, I saw them- caught a glimpse of myself in the microwave which seemed to stay in my mind forever, like a polaroid... I was gulping, gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“The sea,” I thought, “the sea!”. The tap was no longer enough, I realised now, and so I ran as fast as I could manage out into the street. People stared as I ran out onto the road to signal for a taxi. Quickly, one of their sleek yellow cars slid up beside me. I jumped in wheezing, oblivious to everything else surrounding me, just the need to leave, and get to the sea.

“Where to honey?”, drawled the driver in a thick Liberty City accent.

“The, the sea...”, was all I could manage, but he nodded his chubby head, and laughed.

“Crow Bridge then?”, I gasped a sigh of relief, which turned into a fit of frantic breathing, thank the lord he understood. Crow Bridge was the bridge which went across the estuary between Liberty City and the rest of the country. Water!

I couldn’t even think of how I was going to pay him. “You okay back there doll?”, he asked, hearing my breathing. I wasn’t okay. I yearned for, I needed the sea. And what I had seen in the mirrored microwave door had scared me so much that I didn’t know what to think and was also the reason why I was holding my neck so tightly with both hands. But, wheezing slightly less, I said “I’m fine; Crow Bridge please”.

The traffic shot by, cab driver driving so fast that everything was a fluorescent blur. But we weren’t going fast enough. The breathing was becoming more laboured and I had to grip incredibly tightly onto the cab seat to stop myself from lying on my stomach again.

But then, finally, we reached the estuary, the sea (or close enough).

“Are you sure you’re okay, love?”, the cabbie asked, seemingly caring. I nodded, gestured towards my nightie. “It’s okay,” he said, “But, babe, I can you’re running away from someone or something. Be careful, take this”. He slid me a $20 note. I was hugely grateful, but I couldn’t say thank you. All I could do now, was run towards the sea...

The driver had dropped me right next to the bridge, so as soon as I was out of the taxi, all I had to do was run onto the footpath, and walk up the steps till I was right above the water. I clutched my neck, even at this hour people were still up and about in Liberty City - the City that never sleeps. And then, finally I was there, teetering on the edge of the bridge, 60 meters above the water. Usually heights scared  me, terrified me - but I was slowly losing my human mind. Things were changing inside my body. The water loomed below me, I knew I shouldn’t jump... But I did. I plunged, straight from the bridge into the cool coldness. Frothy bubbles ballooned around my limbs - further down, now around my waist, as I splashed into the water. Shivers penetrated my spine. The thirst was rapidly fading, I could breathe once more.

It wasn’t until I could breathe again, that I realised the navy black ferocity of the waves around me. In trying to drown my thirst, the anger of the waves had swallowed me. I was nothing.

As the water crashed and battered the rocks, I searched for a plan in my head, but the force was too strong for me to concentrate. And then it pulled me down, like a magnet to metal - and it hit, like a bomb, pulling me, swaying me in loops, it was swallowing me! The sea had no mercy. And yet, somehow... I could still breathe.

Later...

It was the swishing that woke me... The swish, swish, swish. I turned over onto something sharp and gravely. Why was my bed so rock hard? I turned again, grudgingly acknowledging the the light peeping through the slits where my eyelids met. “Waking up is inevitable,” I thought to myself.

“Mummy - where is that woman's clothes? Why is she lying on the ground? Is she sleeping Mummy?” I suddenly heard.

“I don’t know love, let’s go now, don’t stare Jamey! Probably one of those maniacs who like sleeping rough”

At that point a soft breeze caressed my fingertips and I finally managed to pull my heavy eyes apart.

“Oh my god!”, I shouted, and jumped up, my naked flesh exposed for all to see. I’d never felt so embarrassed yet confused in my life. I could feel strangers eyes on me, but I couldn’t make out faces, they were just strangers - unrecognisable shadows.

“Are you all right love? You look like you’ve had a bit of a fright. You, you want my, here take my...” . I around to see a young, sharply dressed man - all I could see was his silhouette against the sea, my eyes were still not awake enough to pick out details. He was just the definite edge of a black shadow. He took a swift step towards me, almost unnoticeable because of his smooth actions, and swept his fur lined coat around my shoulders. It acted like a shield from the rest of the world, the people who were staring and laughing, thinking I was crazy. Maybe I was crazy. Having his jacket swathed round my shoulders made me feel the safest I had done that morning, waking up freezing on the banks of the estuary...

“Are you okay?”, the man asked me from his perfectly formed lips, which I could see better now, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Y, y, yes, I’m fine” I managed to splutter. Though I wasn’t - why was I here? Freezing my ass off and talking to kind man who’d I’d never met before in my life. I just couldn’t recall. All my memories felt cold hazy and sleep drenched.

“Well you don’t look fine,” said the man, “Cm’on, let’s get you out of here.” He slung his arm around my shoulders, hooking me up subtly, and we walked rapidly to his navy blue BMW. This was strange. The rabble from the curious people on the shore that had filled my eardrums a minute ago was starting to diffuse and disappear into the unknown mysteries of Liberty City’s eccentricities. Back to “ordinary life”, for me. Unfortunately, my life had not been normal for a long time.

I would like to say that, after that rather degrading incident, I was locked up fast in a mental institution, kept away from all humanity - but I wasn’t crazy. I would like to say that night, the man accompanied me to my house, and stole away that big blue emptiness that seemed to immerse me, follow me like a bad scent. But that’s not what happened - even though he was ever so kind to me that day. As I sat in the car, still wrapped up tight in his jacket, he started to talk to me like we’d known each other all our lives. He did it so convincingly that I actually started to believe it was true.

“What’s your name?” he asked, revving up the engine. I didn’t reply. “My name’s Eric and I’m going to take you to the hospital”. I could see his long, slim fingers resting on the steering wheel. I concentrated on them, I simply couldn’t focus on anything else, my cold, confused mind was too jumbled with information that didn’t make sense with my view of the world. “He could throttle me with those hands”, I suddenly thought. He could wrap his slim fingers around my delicate neck, one at a time, and kill me. But then, as proved by the incident just a few months previously, it wasn’t him that was dangerous. Slowly now, as we thundered through down town Liberty City, in his little navy car, heating turned up full blast, memories of the night before began to return. They crept into my head like ivy vines. What I remembered was not good - but maybe it had all been a dream? I remembered the thirst, the horrible thirst, in all its audacity. I remembered the lovely taxi driver, and the microwave door, and clutching my neck, marvelling and horrified at what I could feel on it. I remembered not being able to breathe and the bridge... And then we were there, at the hospital. I couldn’t stop shivering.

I was diagnosed with mild hypothermia, and given warmed, humidified oxygen, heated intravenous saline and surrounded by warmed blankets and heat lamps. And throughout all that he waited for me, the kind man, whose name was Eric. Later on, at around 9 pm, they said I could go home, as long as I kept warm. Again, Eric ushered me to his car, and this time, I felt no insecurities in accepting - in the hours we had spent together something had clicked, we just got on so well.

We were at my street and Eric urged the car into the front of my drive, stepped out, and opened the door for me, like a real gentleman, and caught me in an embrace. I didn’t know what to say now, we had been through so much together.  I knew that I wanted to see him again, but the look on his face was far from reassuring. He looked worried, sad, and dark.  Almost as if he was turning into a silouhette again.  But then he said,

“Take care of yourself, I'll see you soon”, and stupidly, stupidly, I believed him.  He cruised off into the red of the setting sun. Years later, I still could remember his features distinctly, as sharply as I could the outlines of Liberty City’s skyline just before sunset. So familiar. Yet, I had lived in Liberty City all my life, and to my knowledge, I had never seen this man before. Therefore, how could he be familiar, and why did I continue to remember him so well?

After his departure, life went on as normal for a whole two years - well as normal as it could have been after what I did. I worked as a writer, and spent all my time at home writing and barely socialising. “My little episode” as I came to name the events of that day, became a mere blip in my past, and I mentioned it to no-one, after all, now, I had no-one to mention too. I was even starting to doubt that it had happened myself, as the days rolled into months, and the months into years.  But his face, his face still shone clearly from my mind.

Our next and last encounter, began far more frivolously than I would have ever expected. It wasn’t often that I went out of my own accord, usually my visits to the world outside my flat were to buy groceries or to post scripts and stories.  Nevertheless, one day as I was sitting, typing on my laptop, something spurred me to hit the town, like I had done when I was an innocent teenager. A cruel a little voice rang in my head saying “go on, go out”. Adrenaline shot through me and I prepared myself

Soon, I was ready.  Still familiar with the streets, I strutted through the Crown Bank district, clad in my fishnets and silky blue dress.  I came across a venue that I remembered vaguely from my youth. It was called Marine Lounge, and its flashing blue lights appealed to me like the name before.  I chose - it would be this club.  I still wasn't really sure why I was out, alone in the city, but the cruel voice finally quieted.

Walking in, there was a stale scent of cigarettes which made me want to puke.  I had been forced to give cigarettes up for a whole nine months, and hadn't smoked them since.  Luckily, further into the club the scent changed. It smelt of the sea.  These days the smell of the sea, and sea food, also made me want to wretch, but today, the smell appealed to me. I thought this was strange, but I ignored it, for my minds warning system still hadn't quite kicked in.

Even the decor was marine - chairs decked out in coral served as seats and futons, while greeny blue paper seaweed was draped over the walls, and small rock baths, like jacuzzis, kept the punters occupied. Not my sort of place.  I had given up these sorts of places with the birth of my baby, almost three years back. And just as I was about to leave, there he was, the man who helped me when I turned insane and yearned for the sea. I would have recognised his face anywhere. Before I could take a step towards him, he was there, in a sweeping movement that I didn’t even see, still as smooth as ever.

He took me through a door and into the back of the venue.

“I, I know nothing about you” I whispered as he grabbed my hand, dragging me through a maze of blue corridors, “I haven’t seen you in years”. I was getting scared. He didn’t answer. “Where are you taking me?” I tried again. This time he answered, his gravely voice hollow of emotion,

“Never you mind”. I was truly scared now, and that’s when I properly started to look at him. He had changed a lot since I had last seen him. He was no longer the fresh faced, almost innocent looking man I had known all those years ago. His high cheekbones were littered with stubble, his face had become even sharper and he had let his hair grow, so that now it peaked up in stiff tufts which framed his face. He looked taller and sexier than I had remembered too - more built and streamlined.

The door slammed behind me with a bang. We were in a small room, predictably blue. Then he lunged towards me. His breath was incredibly cold, icy on my warm mouth.  I could almost see it in the air as he breathed. We kissed passionately and memories came flooding back to me as my lips traced his. His mouth tasted of salt, sea salt.

The kissing was over. He forcefully threw me to the bed, landing on top of me with such poise. It was clear that he was something different. The moment was perfect, it fitted, it was exciting, but then my excitement turned to fear. I knew that I didn’t deserve to feel this excited, this happy, after what I had done, and that’s when I saw something change in his blue green whirlpool eyes, just as the memories from the most evil act I had ever committed flooded back in to my head, as they always did. It was like he could hear my thoughts. For that second, darkness flashed from his eyes. He was still above me, arms either side of my chest. It was then, when he properly looked down, that I realised that the darkness hadn’t really gone, it had just retreated. But, of course, I was submissive, how couldn’t I be? It was the worst mistake I could have made for my own sake, because then, then I felt the thirst. It was coming back!

“What are you doing to me?” I choked at the beautiful man who loomed over me.

“What you did to your baby Opal. I should have killed you a long, long time ago”

“What? How do you know anything about my baby!”, I shrieked. I was wheezing now, partly from fear and partly because of what was happening to my neck. I could feel my body changing all over again, faster than last time. Eric grabbed my hands, and yanked me from under him so that we were now kneeling on the bed, eyes parallel, something that must have taken enormous strength. He finally replied, still holding my wrists tightly.

“I know, Opal, because it is my duty to know. And I also know how you’re going to die. You’re going to drown in air, the opposite to your dear baby boy.”  He said those three last words sarcastically, and then I tried to scream. “He knows! He knows!” I thought... and the memories came rushing into my head again, just like they had a few minutes ago.

I was washing him, my new baby that I had never wanted, the one that my parents had forced me to keep - I was washing him in cool clear water, dousing him again and again to clean him, and then something cracked in me. This stupid, screaming child, I didn’t have to keep him. I had heard plenty of stories about children drowning in water while there parents had nipped out of the bathroom. So that’s what I did. I turned the baby on its front, it was still crying, and then, then I turned on the tap, and let the bath fill up with water. I left the room. I hid under my bed - but I could still hear the crying, the spluttering. And then finally, nothing. I went back into the bathroom. The baby was floating face down in the water. I turned of f the tap, lifted him out of the tub and lay him on the ground gently, wrapped him in a towel. I let the water out of the bath tub. Then I called the police. There was a trial of course - but it was deemed a horrific accident. I had got away with it, but my guilt stayed with me. I always knew it would come back to haunt me... And now it had.

I could feel my neck erupting, the gills were coming back, I needed the sea, the sea!

“The sea...” I moaned, staring into Eric’s eyes. He let me fall back onto the bed, I couldn’t move now anyway, I was slowly drowning.

“Why, why, you?” I whispered croakily, “I... I loved you”. Eric bent over me. He stroked my sweat soaked shining skin, my long hair, and whispered, “I almost love you too... But you did a bad deed, and evil is always repaid with evil in my world. I held off as long as I could Opal, but this was not a choice for me, there are powers that you cannot imagine in this world. I just, I don’t understand why it had to be you?”

“Neither do I,” I croaked back at him. “But I understand. I am evil, I did evil, and I deserve... whatever this is. I’m just lucky that I got a chance to see this part of the world, I suppose. I always knew, after that night, that there was something more. I turned into another being Eric, how is that a true punishment?”.

“That wasn’t your punishment”, he replied, “This is. You have had a taste of the freedom of us, of our people, and now you’re sentenced to die like us too”.

“I don’t understand, I never felt free” I said, my voice finally faltering. I convulsed, I really couldn’t breathe now. I wanted the sea and Eric there with me. But instead, I had a blue room, and the greeny blue pools of light that were Eric's eyes to stare into, as I lay there dying. My heat beat faster and faster, and in my terror at dying, I did not hear what Eric said to me. But I’m sure he said something. I hope he said “Neither do I”.

So now, I lie here, Eric beside me, clutching at the last straws of life.  I fully recognise now that I was evil, but evil can still be loved and love, can feel regret, although evil must always feel punishment. I feel something wet on my arm. Eric’s tears. And somehow that soothes me, and my last beat of life is almost a happy one, even though my baby's was not.