Wash It All Away

Music blares out from the speakers fixed around the garden. Laughter sounds from somewhere nearby - the kitchen, maybe? - and by the barbeque a group of boys starts singing, most of their voices gratingly out of tune and time, save for one of them who actually matches the pitch of the current song.

It catches her attention. She props herself up on her elbows, uses one hand to raise the sunglasses so that they rest on her forehead, watching with a mixture of mirth and second hand embarrassment. Her lips twitch, just shy of a smile, as Monty sees her staring and promptly breaks out into an impromptu song and dance routine. Only for her smile to falter a second later.

Sasha joins the boys - joins Monty - laughing as he drags her into the routine and launches her into ridiculously over the top twirl. Jealousy hangs bitterly on her tongue, a sharp and sour taste. She sits all the way up, legs dangling in the warm water of the pool, trying to focus on the sensation of the water rather than the feelings coiling in her chest like a storm.

It works, until it doesn’t; until the point where Monty draws Sasha in and kisses her. Larissa just glances away, slinking into the depths of the pool.

She lets herself sink to the bottom. Sits crossed legged, hugs her knees to her chest, and screws her eyes such. Under the water everything is muffled. The laughter of her friends is distant, the music distorts, and the ambience surrounding the gardens grows silent.

The tension seeps out of her and into the surrounding water. Larissa feels her muscles untense - hadn’t even realised until now that they were wound so tightly - and lets her shoulders droop slightly. She’s lucky. Of all the things her mother has taught her, the lesson she is most grateful for is the one where she learnt to hold her breath. It gives her time to think without anyone trying to talk to her, which is more often than not the absolute last thing she wants when she’s in one of these moods.

Sometimes it’s nice to just be left alone.

How easy would it be to just let go? Would they notice? Would they care?

Such are the intrusive thoughts that cloud every waking second of her day. All it would take is a moment; open your mouth, let the water fill your lungs, let the panic sink in. Kick and scream under the water knowing your salvation is just a few feet upwards, knowing that your brain is too confused, too paralysed, to react on logic and reason.

It would be easy, wouldn’t it? Oh so easy.

The water shifts around her. Larissa thinks she hears a splash, but the thoughts are overwhelming. She opens her eyes. In the face of all her other senses failing her, what else can she do? Blonde hair, pale skin, a modest, plain bikini, softness gazing out from impossibly dark brown eyes. Larissa puts the puzzle together piece by piece, the finished work clearing the last dregs of morbid fog from her mind.

Sasha…

They stare at each other. One sat, looking up. The other floating, looking down. Sasha extends a hand towards her, expression melting from concern to a natural smile, waits patiently. Never presses.

Of course she cares. Of course…

Larissa grabs the offered hand and lets herself be pulled back towards the surface.