To say my memory of the moments afterwards were hazy would be an understatement. There was no foggy recollection at all, but instead an elongated period of nothingness. I wish I could say that I remember untangling myself from her arms, leaving the soaked sheets and her bloodstained lips far behind me. Perhaps, even just getting up to piss, smoke a cigarette or grab something to drink or eat.

I wish I could lie to myself, the way I had been for years about all kinds of things. My drinking, my violent outbursts, my inability to grieve properly; all those little things that made me tick and threaded its way into my work. The darkening necessity that I needed Lily, even if every fiber of my soul was screaming at me to run. Yes, writers are great liars. The most honest liars you will ever meet.

The truth was simple. There was Lily, there was me and then there was nothing.

A wave of warmth hit my face, followed by something cold and wet. I tried to open my eyes, but the cloud was dark and heavy, pinning my eyelids in place. They were heavy, but everything was heavy. My chest, my head, my legs. I felt I was moving, maybe even walking. Floating. No, that wasn't quite right, either. The world around me was moving, I wasn't. I tried to move my arms, the one part of me that did not seem tied down. The cold and wet feeling returned along with a satisfying and familiar sound. I laughed, choking as I did. Breathing wasn't an option here.

I pulled back, pushing upwards with my arms. My eyes were no longer sealed and I blinked. My vision was smeared and filmy and I continued to choke, spitting and gagging. I rubbed my eyes and kicked my legs. Now, I was floating. My head crashed into the edge of something wooden and groaned. The pain was a swelling tide in my brain, but with that tide came clarity. It slammed into me like a white-knuckled fist to the jaw, jarring but necessary.

I had been drowning. Fucking drowning.

I pulled myself together and reached for the splintered planks of the dock. The back of my head throbbed as I crawled out of the water. I sat there in disbelief. I stared from the safety of the dock into murky water that seemed too dark and uneasily calm. Seeing my reflection in those depths was anything but calm. I noticed that one of the boards had shifted and broken off. I probably had fallen in because of that damn thing. A complete accident. Probably.

I stepped back, not wanting to take my eyes from the water. I didn't trust the lake and even though I knew that it would not chase me back to the cabin, it seemed more comforting to keep an eye on it. Near-death paranoia is always silly to those who aren't experiencing it. I continued walking backwards until I reached the trail leading back to the cabin. I turned around once I was sure I could not see the water and it couldn't see me. It was an insane notion but it was an honest one.

"Byron!"

I stood there, shivering in my wet clothes, too stubborn to turn around.

"Byron, are you okay? Your legs-"

Thunder drummed in the distance, the sky cracking open. Drops of rain sprinkled steady around me, stinging my skin like tiny knives. I would've flinched, but this water was fresh and pure, not murky and choking pond water. The rain was cold and I was cold, but it beat being dead. I shuddered, lying to myself about one last thing.

"Tina. Yeah, I'm fine. Just went for a swim," I said. I laughed and hoped that it seemed less nervous than it sounded.

Her arms reached around my shoulders and we stood huddled there in the rain. The sky lit up three times before the clouds answered back and the rain came down in heavy sheets. We ran together, up the steps and away from the storm. Lightning danced and thunder growled as I pushed the front door open. I placed my hand on Tina's shoulder.

"Listen. The place is probably a mess. I haven't exactly been myself lately."

"Byron," she said. "It's been three days. We tried reaching you, your phone's out of service. Me and Mort drove up here the other day, yesterday. You were nowhere around. We looked. The woods, the lake. Everywhere. I helped myself inside. I hope you don't mind." She paused, searching my eyes for approval. Whatever the look on my face might have been, it couldn't have been reassuring. She looked away, then back. She sighed.

"Anyway, we saw that the wheelchair was still here. Mort wanted to call the authorities. He was so sure that some crazy fan had kidnapped you! I laughed and said that as far as I knew, I was the only obsessed groupie that even knew you were here. Not sure if that comforted him, but he never called the police. He said he'd give it one more day. I told him that maybe- just maybe- you had been able to walk. The doctor had said you would be able to. Maybe you had strolled into town in all your excitement. Grateful and happy to walk again. It's not like you've ever been voted 'The Most Likely to Stay In Touch' or anything."

I laughed at that. She smiled. Her dimples were a welcome sight. The girl knew how to smile and I caught myself almost answering back with one of my own. I smirked instead. My head was pounding and my legs ached. She reached up and closed her eyes, her lips parting as she gave me a kiss. Her breath was like cinnamon and her hand clasped mine, giving it a squeeze. I turned away as her lips left mine. We both glanced at my legs then back up at each other.

"Well, sweetheart. You can see, I'm walking again. For better or for worse. Thanks for not letting Mort go all nuts with the cops. That could've been embarrassing. Come on. I need to get outta these wet clothes. I could use the company."

She blushed. "Okay, well I promise not to stare. I'm just glad you're feeling so much better!"

"Me, too," I said. She kicked off her muddy shoes and smiled. I closed the door behind me. It was another lie, but she did not need to know that. Hell, I didn't want to know that, either.