Tiptoeing my way inside the living room, I pray Mom won't hear me sneaking in. I've texted her earlier to let her know I'd be studying with Stormy.

Part of me feels bad for lying, the other half knows better. It's that or letting her in my messed up world, where Dad used to talk to me but now doesn't. Where I've been forced to realise I need to let go of River if I want my father back in my head.

It's not like I have a choice. I can't live without his voice. The mere thought of making it through the rest of my days without him is enough to shred the tethers that are holding my precarious sanity steady.

Stalling the inevitable moment is not an option anymore. I'll have to say goodbye to my boyfriend this weekend. Time is ticking to an end and the pain in my chest from the absence of Dad is unbearable. I'm having trouble sleeping and riding my whirlwind never seemed so tempting. Yet, I force myself to remain in the now. Caged inside these bones that won't stop hurting. Every nerve ending is aware of my impending choice, triggering my anxiety to the roof.

On top of that, there's also Mom. Her constant worrying-about-me edge. How do you tell your mother you think you've gone too far? How do you confess you are afraid of the darkness building up fast inside of you? How do you explain how it eats your organs one by one until you are nothing but an empty carcass? Bones against concrete, moving past the crowds of bystanders, wearing nothing but teal ragged mementos of a life that should make sense but doesn't anymore. Easy. You don't. She'll think I'm making shit up.

I almost make it to the staircase when her voice finds me.

"Hi, sweetheart. How was the study session with Stormy? Did you guys make progress?" I turn to face her wearing my best all-is-well-no-need-to-worry mask, hoping it won't slide off and shatter in front of her fluffy slippers.

"We had a good session, Mom. I think we'll be ready for exams in no time."

She looks pleased, which breaks my heart. I excuse myself from dinner, faking a headache so I can be alone in my room. Clover follows me upstairs, and by the time I close the door, I'm having trouble breathing.

I toe off my snickers and plop on my bed with my gaze fixed on the ceiling until my eyes become watery and everything turns blurry. I close them and try to even my breathing, counting backwards all the steps I took from the driveway to my bedroom.

A hundred and forty two steps ago, I was in Rivers' arms. His face was a constellation then came those eight words: I think I love you, Dawn Gray Brooks.

It was movie-lovely. It felt epic and fragile, and I wanted the moment and the night to last forever. I stood there, with another eight words to say back to this boy that means so much to me. But what good would that do? I held on to his gaze, pooling warmth from his lashes. If only I could keep him by my side... If only I could change this chapter of our story.

I wanted so many things to happen, but he kissed me and rode off without a second to spare.

I'm alone now. The air coming through the window smells like gravel and things I'm not saying. Clover hops on the bed and rests her head on my leg. I place my hand over her fur, patting her like she wants me to. I cup her muzzle and realise my fingers fit perfectly around it. Of all the things that are changing around me, this stays the same. The connection I have with her, and the way pieces of me fit with pieces of her.

My cell buzzes. It's River. He wants to know if I'd like to wander some more tomorrow. I say yes. I've got nothing else to do but count the hours left until I see him again for the last time. Maybe Dad will understand why I need one final adventure with my watery boy...

Saturday comes with its white-sun morning. River arrives with his black motorbike roaring and his sexy jacket to pick me up. I walk the hundred and forty two steps to hug him tight. The heaviness in my chest lifts a little the second his arms wrap around my frame, only to sink a second later remembering what I must do.

We ride north this time. We rise and pass all kinds of houses and manicured gardens. The sky's a portrait of blue in the distance. My gaze flies to the clouds and I try reaching out to Dad but to no use. A shiver runs down my spine and I thank the helmet for hiding my tears. The wind slaps my cheeks. It whispers, "Don't worry, I'll sweep them off your face like I've done before so the boy won't notice you are sad." I can't help thinking why I hear it loud and clear while Dad's gone voiceless.

River keeps calm when we go past buses and heavy-load trucks. I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to think of how it would feel to be hit by a semi. What bits of me would be found? Would there be enough of me to donate my organs? If I died, would I be missed or forgotten?

I turn my head, open my eyes again and watch the trees flick past. They ask me whether I've forgotten about becoming a fern. They chatter about roots and being one with the earth again. How uncomplicated it would be. No need to search for Dad anymore since he'd be waiting for me underneath the world.

I sigh, and try to explain to them my transformation cannot be completed because now, I have River and my bag of feelings for him... River and my big goodbye and when I don't have him anymore all I'll have left is my hopes of hearing Dad's voice once more.

When we are on the outskirts, there's even more traffic. I wrap my arms around River and at some point, he stops at a light and flips up the front of his helmet. "Dawn, baby, I can't breathe," he says, a chuckle follows.

I try to say I'm sorry, but my helmet won't let me. The light turns green, and we weave through the churn and grind of trucks, cars, other bikes—the riders whisper, "Look at them, infants heading for a squishing."

I'll probably try talking to Dad when we arrive at our destination. He can't be mad at me forever. He knows I'll be saying my goodbyes today. He must have heard my thoughts looping around that idea all night. Plus, I've been careful not to tell anyone about our secret. He knows I won't last long without him. That's a good reason to hurtle back, right? My chest pinches and sets.

I concentrate hard on the drivers, name them all. There's Linda, rushing to work in her red Volvo. She's an actress. There's Patch and the kids, he's getting a divorce but hasn't told them. There's Otto, who lives alone with his Westland terrier. He just got a text from his lover, which makes him feel less insecure about the tooth gap and small penis.

We move forward, and the surroundings turn into something manageable—a breathing electric pulse I can hold in my hand.

After more turns, thirty four cars, two trucks and one semi, we are here: McArthur Lake Reservoir.

The sun grinds into the sky when we park, and the lake sharpens its green against the rocks. River snaps one selfie of us by the shoreline and sits on the grass, waiting for me to see it.

"You and I together make more sense than all what's out here in this world, Dawn." His hands fly to my lower back and with a swift movement he drags me closer to him.

"You're such a dork sometimes, River Allen." My vision becomes blurry with held tears and I croak a silly response in fear I might start screaming. I don't want to break his heart.

"Sometimes only? I can live with that." He chuckles and leans in to plant a kiss on my pursed lips. I rest my head on his left shoulder and then my surroundings implode.

Holding my breath, I hear him—blurry, but there. Dad's voice—it's hollow.

"I can't read you stories like this, baby bee."

What's that, Daddy? Why? Please, hold on... I'll make everything better.

I hear the opening of a book and his cracked whispers as he tries to begin reading. It's our fairytale one. Same one that's resting on my nightstand. The insanity of it all has me reeling and I'm praying River won't see me spiralling out of control.

Dad's trying, but his words are muffled... as if coming out from a radio with poor reception. Grainy a couple seconds later, and then he fades.

The choking sensation leaves me dizzy, my breathing hitches as nausea rolls down my guts. I'm losing my mind, there's no escape from what's bursting from within. I rush to the rocks and thrust out my hand to feel its sharp edges. It's solid. Real.

Unlike my reeling thoughts.

Nothing holds.

Dad's voice has slipped away once more, like the sand between my trembling fingers.

"Hey, this place is kind of amazing. Glad my abuela mentioned it," says River, snatching me back to this moment. The lake sprawls below the mountains. The view goes all the way to the edge of the earth.

"Yeah," I say. "I don't remember it."

"What do you mean? How can you if you've never been here?" He smiles my silliness away, and I shrink. I want to tell him my dad was here, and so I was here before time and reason.

"I think my parents and I came here on vacation before my brother and sister were born. Mom mentioned it." I try to concentrate, I have told him about my dead dad and how we moved here for a new start. I keep wanting to drift. It's urging call is getting tougher to avoid with each heartbeat.

"I can't believe they ever left," he says, "But I'm so happy you came back." He wraps me in his arms, planting soft kisses down my neck. I semi-smile. I'm distracted. I want to try talking to Dad again...

I pull away softly, head towards the water. River walks behind me. He reaches to where I'm standing and I take him in. Staring out into the lake, with his hands in his pockets, eyes dreamy. I've fallen for this boy... But he's not mine to keep. I have no more time.

Dad?

Dad?

I'm not getting through to him... He's not answering.

Worst of all—he said he couldn't.

Dad?

I clamber up the rocks and try harder.

Dad? Nothing but static in my brain.

"Do you want to go into the lake?"

I turn to look at River. He thinks I want to go for a swim. We stand on the rocks, steps away from the water. I'm afraid of what it would whisper to me today, "What took you so long, Dawn?"

River says, "Now this is an excellent view. Eleven out of ten, right?" He touches my arm, caresses my hair and wraps a lock of it around his index finger.

"Can't believe your folks came here for vacation and you were here too. Little Dawn, looking at this view. Playing hide and seek." My dear, sweet boy... He's trying so hard to keep me rooted to this scene.

I take a few steps back and snap another photograph of River, the rocks and the edge of the water. I stare at the screen and there is River, his hand shielding his eyes, squint-smiling at me. I have no strength in me to smile back.

Then, the static increases its volume and amidst the grainy echoes I hear Dad. My heart stops mid-beat.

"We are splitting atoms." Dad's voice is haunted. I have to bend forward to hear him, past the screaming birds and noisy shrubs.

Something frozen grabs at my throat and my forehead beads. My knees bend and I need to sit down.

Dad's not talking to me. He's in my head and yet he's not talking to me... It's terrifying. It's like I'm not even me anymore.

Shadow-Dawn.

Dawnless-Dad.

"What if my daughter finds out about my weak heart and hates me?"

No, Dad. You never have to worry about that. I'm here for you. It's okay.

"Her life fits in my arms. I have the entire world in my arms. I'm sick." I can hear his rising panic, then the breeze catches it, and his voice turns into a fading whistle and goes out.

Dad...?

The wind is back. I must get as far from my body as possible, let the whirlwind have its way with me. And then I'll fix the breaks. I'll show him I can bring him back to me. Glue our pieces together. Sow us back into a warm quilt.

It will be okay. Will it? It has to.

"Dawn, it's getting late, and we have a long ride ahead. Your mom will kill me if it gets dark and you are not home. Let's get back on the road." River calls me, gesturing from the bike.

I wander down the rocks, taking a round one with me. Its heaviness grounds me for a while. Slats of sun slide over me. River is a dot waiting for me.

I'm alone, but not alone. I'm alive, but I'm dead. My feet walk over the ghosts of Dad's words. I'm a ghost too. Paper thin. See through. Void. I step on each crack and the cracks open up wide.

I don't know how we got back home so fast.

Time's run out, but I'm so tired I can't find the courage to say goodbye. Not like this. He doesn't deserve it... Our story was worth a proper ending.

River kisses me and I can't feel the softness of his lips on mine. This nightmare has erased him with each merciless ticking.

I watch him drive away and drag my feet inside.

Once home, Dad's rambles invade my room. They ricochet from my brain and land as tears on my trembling hands.

Is this better? Is it?

We don't have conversations anymore. Will I adapt to this new scary sinkhole?

I'm exhausted. The darkness in my room whispers, "Dawn wants to let her insanity reign free. This deafening silence that's drowned out her world."