One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (speld decodable readers txt) 📗

Deeper and deeper she plunged until the water reached her waist and then her chest. It felt like a bath of ice, and it forced the air from her lungs. But she didn’t care. She could still feel John’s hand in her grip. She could still see her mother’s face as she smiled and waved, now inches away. Tara was now pulling John. She was close to her mother. She could almost touch her. She pulled John harder and harder. But right before she could reach her arm out to hug her, a huge wave formed behind her.

“Look out!” Tara yelled.

Her mother ducked. Tara plunged fully in the water, still holding tight to John’s hand. The salt stung her eyes and nose. She could still feel John, but the current pushed and pulled. She could feel their grip growing weaker, and she opened her eyes, but all she was met by was murky darkness. She tightened her grip. The wave had almost passed, and she was about to poke her head up above the water, but suddenly one powerful swell tossed her backward. She tumbled, her hand forced from John’s grip. She clawed around her to find him, to feel for him, but each way she felt, her hands just cut through water.

The sea calmed, and Tara gasped for air as she broke the surface. She steadied her breathing. It was just a wave, she reminded herself as she opened her salt-stung eyes. She looked around her, but all she could see was water with no end in sight. She spun in every which direction. John was gone. Her mother was gone. All the people in the water were gone. Panic seized Tara’s breathing. There was no land, no beach chairs, no umbrellas to spot. In each direction the water was vast, spanning miles, it seemed, and Tara’s mind swirled into a haze of confusion. How could it be? They were all just there.

She looked all around. Land had to be close; it was impossible. She swam in one direction, trusting her instincts. It was this way, she told herself as she stretched her arms out and swam harder and harder until she needed to stop to catch her breath. She looked in front of her—still a vast body of water with no end in sight, and she began to panic yet again. “John,” she screamed. “Mom.” But her voice was nothing to the sea. She looked around her again. Desperately, she instinctively paddled in one direction, but then she would stop and try another—each time unsure of her own choices. Eventually, exhausted, she lay on her back, floating, letting the water chose her direction. She stared up at the sky as her tears filled her eyes. She was alone—it was a feeling that ran cold through her body. She knew she wouldn’t be found. She knew she wouldn’t find land. This was her fate.

The once beautifully sunny sky now darkened. Obscure purples and blues spread through the white clouds like bruises until it was all that could be seen. They blanketed the sky, lightning crashed, thunder rumbled, and Tara closed her eyes as rain fell onto her now ice-cold skin, meeting the warm tears that formed.

She lay there a few moments until she no longer felt the drops of rain. She no longer heard the rumble of thunder or the crashing of lightning. She opened her eyes.

She was now not in the water. She was looking down at it, at her body floating, the current pushing it in the direction it chose. But her face looked younger, her body different, and she realized it wasn’t her body at all. It was a teenager—one that she did not recognize. It wasn’t Ashley. It wasn’t Reese or Sofia. But Tara could feel in every fragment of her being that her fate was the same. She wanted to call to her, but as she opened her mouth, she couldn’t find her voice. She wanted to shake her, but she couldn’t reach her.

Then, suddenly, the girl’s eyes popped open. She stared wide-eyed at Tara, but looking past her, at the sky above. The same terror from Sofia’s picture flooded through the girl’s eyes. Again, Tara tried to call to her. She reached out, but each attempt was useless.

And then suddenly, as if a whirlpool swelled under the sea, the girl was sucked under, until she was nowhere to be seen, and Tara screamed.

Tara bolted upright. It was still night. The sky was still pitch-black through the glass doors of the balcony. The moon still shined brightly, causing everything it touched to glow. The TV was still on. Tara was slick with sweat and heaved a sigh of relief that she was still in her living room. It was a strange nightmare, she admitted. It was obscure, but Tara knew it was emotionally driven. Because now her fear that Ben Ford was not the killer made her skin crawl. Her heart raced. Her instincts sat in overdrive. And she knew most of all that if she was right and if she ignored them, it would result in the most unfortunate circumstance: another victim.

Chapter Twenty Six

Justine Wells untied the apron around her waist as she let the door of the restaurant slam shut behind her. She was exhausted. It had been a grueling ten-hour shift, and she was happy to finally be finished. She couldn’t wait to lay her head down on her new bed in her new apartment. She was nineteen, and she had just officially moved out of her parents’ house and into a two-bedroom apartment with her roommate. Her parents were still mostly supporting her, and they would especially once she started Wilmington College in the fall, but it was still a newfound freedom Justine relished.

She walked briskly to her car. It was late, almost midnight. She didn’t like walking to her car at this hour. It had always given her an uncomfortable feeling, but