"After?" Abby asked, shifting in her seat. She could have meant any number of things by that, and she wasn't sure if any of them were any less painful. With time, of course, the edges of them softened, turning the beach into a ritual she had control of had hugely helped. But there were still times when she revisited the coldness of that day, the stiffness of her limbs, that it felt like she'd been cut fresh all over again. Why hadn't she screamed for help? "I guess I was waiting for her to swim back in."

Abby let out a laugh, although not one bit of it was funny. She'd told the same story a hundred times, what felt more like a thousand, well versed in the art of half truths. There were tears, though, and that hadn't happened in a while. "Stupid, right? And then, you know, she didn't. And my mom came and then the police and it... was really long night."