I kept my word. I didn’t leave the rocks.
Ronan tried to pull me away, of course. He would come back, hour after hour, and I would send him away, time after time. Sometimes he was nicer to me. Sometimes he tried to hold my hand and ask me to tell him stories about what life was like on land. Sometimes it was almost possible to feel that he loved me.
But I would still send him away. His fingers would start to feel too familiar. Together, the coldness of our hands would start to feel warm. I would start believing that I could maybe love him, and start forgiving.
And then I would have to push him away, because I didn’t want that. I didn’t want him. I wanted Cillian. I already had Cillian.
Each time I pushed Ronan away, he would come back more furious. The once gentle brush of my hand would turn into a fierce grip, his sharp nails digging into my skin. He tried to drag me into the water. He tried to threaten to never let me see Cillian again. He said I was lucky to have him, otherwise I’d be floating around aimlessly by myself, left for dead with the harsh waves and spiked rocks.
“You can’t leave me,” I taunted at him. “I’m your queen. I’m your Iona. You waited so long for me, and your people aren’t going to let you throw me away like that.”
Ronan scowled at me. Looking into his eyes was as painful as stepping on glass, they were that sharp. “We waited too long. You would be happy, if you had been here sooner. Now you have felt things. You have lived. And that is hard to break.”
“Very,” I agreed.
“But you will.”
“You can’t break me. You’ve taken my life. You’ve taken my body. All that’s left is my soul, and you can’t take what’s inside.”
Ronan gave up at that, splashing back into the water and swimming off.
I leaned across the rocks, letting the sun splash across my body. I was cold all the time now. It didn’t hurt. I never shivered. But I was aware that something inside me was colder, even if I didn’t feel it. The sunlight felt better than ever.
Sheenagh and Aisling had taken a strange interest in me, and it wasn’t long before they popped up again. Aisling lingered in the water for a moment, her big eyes just above the surface, but Sheenagh climbed right into the rocks next to me. She was grasping a piece of black fabric between her teeth, and nodded at me, until I took the cue that she was trying to surprise me with something, that I should turn away.
When I glanced back, human Sheenagh was standing in front of me in a long black dress. It didn’t do her flawless, slender body any justice— the shoulders were too big, slipping off, and there was a rip up the side. Still, she made it beautiful. The sliding shoulders brought out the elegant edges of her collarbone, and when she spun around to show me, her pale, perfect legs peeked through the slash in the dress.
“It looks nice,” I told her.
Sheenagh tugged at the shoulders. “It is strange. I feel not free.”
“Where did you guys get these clothes?” I asked, as Aisling crawled out of the water, trading her seal skin for a similar black dress.
“People drown,” Aisling said simply. “Things wash to shore.”
Dead people’s clothes. Sheenagh and Aisling giggled at the sight of each other, running their hands up and down the fabric that must have felt so strange and smooth and soft. Dead people’s clothes, and they didn’t care.
Sheenagh saw my worried look. “We did not drown them. These things just happen.”
“I know,” I said, but I must have still looked worried, because Sheenagh crawled closer to me. She put her cold hand on my shoulders.
YOU ARE READING
The Souls of Drowned People
Teen FictionMoira knows there has to be a reason why she was forced to leave Ireland after her father's drowning, and the secrets her mother keeps aren't calming her curiosity and desire to learn the truth. Her only link to the past is her best friend, Cillian...
