Page 12 of Unmoored

I’ve been finding ways to achieve more freedom. Bucky seems to be the nurse on watch most nights, and he helps me sneak down to the beach any time I ask.

He allows me to go by myself now, which is delightful. I spend a lot of time alone, yet I’m always watched by staff from this godforsaken hospital during the day. My hours on the beach under the stars and moonlight are the only times I feel truly free, and I fear they may be the only thingkeeping my spirits alive in this nightmare I’ve found myself trapped in.

I stare into the depths for hours. The dark waves and endless deep make me feel like I’m not an abomination to society. Anytime I see a fin, I imagine that it's Draya, keeping watch from a distance. I wish so badly he’d swim to the shore, but I know that’s a foolish longing.

I hope that one day I can see the Talassi again, just to prove to myself they’re real. To know that what I experienced wasn’t a figment of my imagination. But if I’m being honest, I’m losing hope.

As my treatment continues and they keep forcing me to talk to the shrinks, I’m starting to wonder if Draya and the Talassi truly are real. The story makes less and less sense the more I think about it.

In truth, I probably clung to a piece of wood from the ship until I reached the shoreline.

And that thought might break me.

—

June 17, 1878

Things have gotten worse. And they just keep getting worse.

Hydrotherapy has turned into shock-hydrotherapy, where they electrocute me at the same time as they attempt to drown me.

It’s incredibly painful, and I’m not sure how I'm still alive.

I barely go to the beach anymore. The saltwater would soothe my muscles, fried and abused as they are, but thethought of forcing my aching body to traverse that far makes me want to die.

—

September 5th, 1878

Today, I learned that all the letters I wrote to my fatherwereactually sent, according to Bucky. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it, but I suppose it’s nice to know they didn’t get burned or tossed to the sea. I’m not surprised, but it’s still hurtful to know my father probably hasn’t even opened them, considering the lack of response.

Sometimes I wonder if he ever loved me. I wonder if there’s anyone out there on this planet who cares about me at all, anymore.

—

December 28th, 1878

I forced myself to go to the beach last night, despite the protests of my aching body, and while I was there I noticed something peculiar. A long jetty extends into the water, marking the edge of the sanitarium’s property, and I’ve always been curious about it.

But, until now, I never noticed the small cave tucked into the rocks at the end.

It’s only visible during low tide, and I’m curious about what lies inside.

—

February 13th, 1879

I have great news. My shock-hydrotherapy has ended, and I’ve now graduated to spending days in the solitary cells.

The solitary cells are exactly what they sound like - stone cells containing nothing more than a cot and a chamber pot. I’m locked in there for two to three days at a time, during which I have no contact with Bucky or any other patients or staff. I absolutely hate it.

They say it’s supposed to help me unlock myhidden memories. I don’t think those hidden memories exist.

—

April 15th, 1879

I’ve taken to spending entire nights on the beach now. They leave me in solitary cells for most of the week, but any moment of darkness that isn’t spent in those dank cells, Bucky lets me sneak to the beach.