**~Vesper’s POV~ **

I shifted into something firm in my sleep. It was warm so I didn’t open my eyes. I snuggled into it more, enjoying the warmth. I smiled.

Then I felt a hand brush some hair out of my face. It was gentle and adoring. My smile widened and I snuggled into the warmth again.

I didn’t want to wake up. Whatever was in bed with me was firm, but gentle and warm. I needed warm. I could barely remember what I did last night. I knew I woke up and went to find someone, but I didn’t know who I found. I didn’t know what I did. I didn’t know who was in my bed, but I was still fully clothed so nothing bad could have happened.

“Sunshine, we have to get up.” The person whispered.

Wait…

Sunshine.

They called me sunshine. He called me sunshine. There was only one person who called me that.

I shot up, saw Damian, and shoved him as I hard as I could. He let out a sound of surprise and fell off the bed with a thud. I looked around panicked, but I didn’t see anything wrong. Everything was fine. I was fine.

Damian had been in my bed.

He groaned from his place on the floor. “Ouch.” He mumbled.

“What are you doing here?” I screamed.

He smirked and looked up at me. “You don’t remember? You practically begged me to stay with you, declared your deep, undying love for me, and asked me to marry you.”

I blushed and folded my arms. “No, I didn’t!” I yelled and threw a pillow at him.

He chuckled and sighed. “Fine, you didn’t, but you did ask me to stay last night.”

I huffed. “It was an obvious lapse of judgement.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Regret or disappointment. I couldn’t tell. I wanted to reach out and soothe his pain. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong. I wanted to ease his hurting.

What was wrong with me? What was I thinking? He was using me. I knew what he was. But he hadn’t done anything to hurt me yet.

But what about what Lucian said? He had warned me to stay away from Damian. He had also threatened to tell everyone about Dane. No.

“Get out.” I said.

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He slipped out the door without a word… and I was alone. Again.

I took a deep breath. Tonight was the fourth night of the Sun Solstice. Damian had been in my bed. Oh my sweet suns. I let Damian Vampire into my bed.

I bet the waters know what it’s like to be battered to and fro like this. My heart can’t take this. One second, I’m fine and thinking clearly. Then next, he’s there and all ration goes out the window. It’s obvious what I have to do tonight. I need to escape him.

I spend the rest of my day with my sisters. I figured I needed the distraction. Every time I think of Damian, I see his onyx eyes, swirling with emotion, his strong arms, holding me in my sleep, his soft, handsome face, lips twisted into a smirk that always catches my attentioin. Lips that could just lean down and-

I shake those thoughts from my head. He’s supposed to be my enemy. I’m not supposed to think these things about him. I know what he does to girls like me. Girls who don’t think clearly. I know what I need to do.

Charity grabs my arm. “Vesper, you almost spilled the tea!” She squeals.

I look down and see that I’m overflowing my teacup. “Oh my suns! I’m so sorry. I must be distracted.” I say. I’m distracted alright.

I sigh and we clean up the mess.

My maid comes to my room to help me get ready too early. I’m not ready to put on another happy smile and pretend my heart isn’t pounding. But my father insisted I come. He said that I need to show the kingdom that I’m alright.

But I’m not.

I dress in a gorgeous blue dress and make my way to the grounds. I’m stopped by at least thirty people. Everyone says how worried about me they were. They all say the same thing. It rattles me.

Then I see Dane. He catches my gaze and makes his way over to me. No.

No.

I can’t do this. I sprint the other way as fast as I dare. I don’t want to make the mistake again. I don’t want him to touch me. I just can’t let him. It’s wrong to say the least. It’s vile.

I crash into a body. I stare up at them. Lucian. He grins down at me. “Running from Dane, are we?”

How dare he? How dare he speak to me like this? “Stay out of my way, Lucian.” I hissed.

“No, Princess, you stay out of mine.” Then he disappeared into the shadows, leaving me alone.

Then I was running again. I refuse to be caught by Dane. I refuse to end up in his arms again. I refuse to go down like this.

I make my way through the tents, only to be grabbed by an arm. Elle pulls me into a tent full of mirrors. “We can hide in here form whoever you are running from.” She said.

“How do you know I’m hiding from anyone?” I asked.

“Because I know you.”

At that, I smiled. I had a friend. A friend who knew me.

I think i’m done I think It’s over

I’ve been sent- pushed shoved

over the edge

I honestly don’t know how I lasted this long

The ocean can taste my screams as i hurl words into the void

The sea can feel my broken heart as i dip my toes in the water

My tears see my fears

The waters know what it means to be battered to and fro

They know

I walk to my waist

It pulls

Begging me

To come home

Heralded memories, horribly disgraced Hallowed bond, laid tragically to waste True love sacred Stained to hatred Like a violent drowning Tossing me around It Dethrones It Disowns It Shatters my soul It Chisels It Collapses It Carves a sinkhole It Punishes the shoreline It Tears down my naked shrine All jagged and barbed Knifelike and slicing Birthed of my own devising What started as ripples Bash savagely to cripple An intimacy well-meant Has disgorged a foe, not a friend

I sat in the car seat when I was five.

I watched, but didn’t listen, as they squabbled. Little hand pressed to tiny ears, I blocked it out.

And that’s when they asked me.

“Mommy or Daddy?”

They bounced their opinions back and forth, like a painful tennis match.

The waters know what it means to be battered to and fro.

They asked relentlessly, but I never answered.

And so they split me in half.

“You got what you wanted,” they said.

But I didn’t.

I wanted to be whole again.

Who wants to hobble on one leg?

It still resonates in my peripheral vision.

My parents and me didn’t understand.

We didn’t understand each other, or why it was this way.

So I came of age.

And my parents and me split.

Like I did when I was five.

Water is a very relatable thing to me. Preferably ocean waters you see. Like myself, the waters know what it means to be battered to and fro. Waves crash onto the shore. Nonstop Constantly going and moving without seeing a solid rock. Nonstop It calmly flows while breaking on the inside, Being admired on the outside. Just like the ocean waters, I’m always going to and fro. Nonstop My head spins from the constant moving and crashing of my thoughts. I hide behind a calm mask, my thoughts screaming to be let free. How is a simple thing like water so relatable to me?

The waters know what it means to be battered to and fro. It despairs at the blood spilled within its depths. With every hurricane, they reach out for comfort to be met with disappointment as humans run away in fear.

The only person who kindly responds to them is me.

But I am moving out of state in a few days to a place where oceans can’t go. My dad got promoted at his finance job, and that requires us to pack our bags to Oklahoma. While the waves crash against the shore, their long, foamy fingers place seashells against the sand for me to find. Offerings waiting to be discovered. The kindness of the sea forces me to procrastinate offering in return the hard, agonizing truth.

The morning of moving day, I sit at my window. The boxes I have hidden away had to be pulled out for the movers to collect. My heart sinks deeper into my chest with every seagull’s cry. It would be impossible for me to whisper my apologies without shedding tears, so I reach for a slip of paper.

The words come naturally from my mind, through the pen, and into the ink as I scribbled words of love, of regret. Expressing every single memory we’ve had on the small space was the easiest part. From our first official encounter to now we’ve played many games of hide and seek and shared secrets I only could trust with a force of nature. I roll up the note and fit it within the spirals of a tiny conch shell.

My feet sink deep into the cool sand with every step. When the water curls around my toes, I hear my mother calling.

“Come on, honey! Get back inside!”

Tears spill down my cheeks. “In a minute!”

I kneel down, and a sudden cold touch made me flinch as if I had been slapped.

The origin of this sensation retracted back. The ocean.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That was just…unexpected.”

The small, timid wave inches closer, regarding the shell in my hand.

“It’s the last gift I will be able to give you for a while. I hope you like it.”

The tears kept pouring, but the ocean didn’t wipe them away, as if knowing its comfort wouldn’t be enough.

My mother calls to me again. “Kylie! Now!”

The wind picks up speed, as if pushing me toward the home that will soon no longer be mine. This is one of the few times nature goes against with what I want, and my teeth clench in anger. Am I unwelcome here now? The wave is pushing itself against me, urging me to leave despite my seething frustration.

“I don’t want to leave you! I don’t want you to be alone!”

The pushing became gentler, almost reassuring. It knew the consequence of letting me go. It knew it would be a while before someone else could understand the waters like I can. But it’s okay with that.

The thought warms my heart, but it doesn’t shadow over my sadness.

I return to my room and help my parents load what they can into our car. I make sure I delay the process as much as possible, debating if the letter and conch shell alone was enough of a farewell gift. It takes everything in me to not plunge myself back into those waters, back into what I’ve known for as long as I remember.

When we get into the car, my mom places her hand gently onto my knee. My dad puts the key into the ignition, and we’re on the road.

During the five hour drive, I cling onto my jar of seashells.

The waters knew what it was to be battered to and fro. They had long given up asking why, having realized that questioning the relentless push and pull was as useful as asking a paper towel why it absorbs coffee spills. So they simply went with it.

Every morning, like clockwork, they were nudged awake by the wind, poked and prodded by the tide. The waters didn’t mind this at first—it was part of their routine. Just like how every office worker has to endure the awkward small talk at the coffee machine or the soul-sucking meetings where no one ever really says anything, the waters simply endured their own version of the daily grind.

The wind, of course, fancied itself the CEO of this whole operation. “I’m bringing change!” it howled with the enthusiasm of a motivational speaker at a mandatory corporate retreat. The waters, unimpressed, rolled their eyes. “Change? You? Again?” It was the same speech every day, the same gusts, the same tired waves crashing onto the shore. The waters knew all too well that the wind was just here to make things seem exciting without actually doing anything productive.

But worse than the wind was the moon, the real micromanager in this operation. Like an overbearing boss who schedules check-ins every hour, the moon constantly yanked at the waters, pulling them back and forth with no clear direction. “You’re sloshing too far left,” the moon would mutter. “Now too far right. Come on, we need synergy here.”

The waters would sigh, but they obeyed, moving this way and that, knowing full well that this was all for show. The tides didn’t really accomplish anything, but the moon liked to feel important, and the waters had long learned that it was easier to just go along with it.

Once in a while, the sun would try to inject some positivity into the whole ordeal. “Look at the bright side!” it would beam down from above, casting a warm glow over the scene. “We’re all part of something bigger here!”

The waters would squint up at the sky, vaguely annoyed. “Yeah, yeah, bigger picture and all that,” they muttered. “Still doesn’t change the fact that we’re stuck in this never-ending meeting of tidal forces.”

And so, the waters carried on, jostled by the wind, pulled by the moon, and occasionally blinded by the sun’s insistent optimism. They knew what it was to be battered to and fro, not unlike the office worker who knows what it is to be sent on pointless tasks by higher-ups with no clue what’s really happening on the ground.

And just like that office worker, the waters had resigned themselves to their fate, enduring the daily grind of nature’s bureaucracy. Sure, they sometimes dreamed of a day when the wind would stop yelling about change and the moon would just let them be, but those were idle fantasies. After all, as the waters had come to realize, being battered to and fro was just part of the job description.

Sea Ocean tides Waves and wind Powers of the water Hurricane

The waters know what it means to be battered to and fro Hoisted on high like the sails in the sky With nowhere to go the pirates make landfall each night When the waves roar and the rum’s all gone Pirates blame their thirst on the sun While the captain speaks harshly to his crew The waves understood that it was too late for the few who left the solid ground to journey aboard Not knowing if or when they’d ever get to tell their lore

The Waves knows many ways for a man soul as I journey throughout my sights. the wave. battered for words unspoken my doubt of. sinking is far the Water know what. it means to be battered to and fro ?