Frayed by Pamela Ann Page A

afternoon. I stopped halfway in the living room when I saw Trista dive in the water with her clothes on. Funny, I would have pegged that personality of hers to have gone naked. She had that bold sassiness to her. A confident woman who knew she was hot.
    Breaking my thoughts of her, I went outside. It didn’t take me long to find my iPad sitting where I left it earlier. I started to make way inside, but something compelled me to see her one more time before I hid in my room. My eyes scanned the dark moonlit sea but there was no movement anywhere. Fear started to spread through me as I started to walk towards the shore. The sea was still, not an ounce of movement anywhere—silent.
    I dropped my iPad on the sand and hurriedly went in the water. Something told me that she hadn’t planned to come out alive. Fuck, I had no idea her shit ran that deep. I prayed that I wasn’t too late. It was hard to see anything as I got further in, but my determination didn’t stop me. I dove in deeper, my eyes scanning the dark water. That was when I saw a glimmer of something ahead. I accelerated my speed and swam towards it. It could’ve been a fish, for all I knew, but it gave me hope. My heart lurched when my burning eyes found her slowly sinking to the bottom—eyes closed, auburn hair floating, arms lifeless. A diamond sparkled on her exposed neck.
    I quickly got to her and wrapped one arm around her waist. I used my other free hand and both of my legs to propel us upwards. My lungs burst wildly when I reached the surface, gulping air into my chest, before I summoned all my strength and started to swim back to shore. When my toes touched sand, I gathered her in my arms and hurried to the shore.
    I carefully placed her limp body on the sand , her head propped carefully on my folded knee. It was obvious that she wasn’t breathing. Urgently, I placed my hand over the other and used the soles of my hands to apply pressure against her chest. I used enough pressure to compress her chest that it recoiled.
    Panic started to flourish as each new try proved unsuccessful, but I squashed it like the pest that it was, opting instead for a different method to try and save her. My hands instantly parted her lips for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After my third try, she slowly started to cough. Her body stiffly turned to the side and spat out water, coughing and wheezing it all out. My arm held her while my other hand tried to soothe her. Tears formed in her eyes when everything started to rush back to her.
    “I got you. You’re safe now,” I gently murmured. My insides knotted at the sight of her. What had triggered this? She was a bit distant earlier, but it was clear that she enjoyed being surrounded by her friends.
    Misery was imprinted on her pretty face. “You should’ve left me in there. You had no right!” Trista started to bawl. Hatred laced her voiced as she repeated her words, until her cries made it difficult for her to say them anymore.
    Hearing her openly admit that she wanted to kill herself shifted something violent inside me. She was sitting up now, crying. My hand captured her chin and forced her to look at me. “Is yourself all you ever think about?” I savagely spat at her, my anger evident. “You’re on vacation with your friends. One of them is filming a movie. If you had died tonight, the entire production would halt to investigate your death. Emma’s career depends on this movie. Lindsey looks forward to her summer and yet, you decided to end your life out here , jeopardizing the happiness of the people you claim to love. I call that selfish.” It triggered the effect I hoped for. Good , I thought. She needed to see sense. She had to see sense.
    “I didn’t see it that way. I’m sorry—all I could think about is Harry. He left me…” Trista spoke in between sobs. “I love him so much, it’s too painful… remembering is painful.”
    She wanted to end it all for a man who broke her heart. Why the hell do