The sea was quiet now.
Not the eerie kind of quiet — not like before — but the kind that feels like the world is holding you gently, like it knows you've been through enough.
Arin sat still in the boat, legs pulled up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees. He wasn't cold anymore. He wasn't hungry. He just was.
The key was gone. The boat was barely holding together. Tiny cracks webbed across the boards like old scars. It didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore.
The land was still there in the distance. Still not closer. Still not real.
And for the first time, he didn't care.
He looked up at the sky — a sky that had shifted again, now filled with warm light. Not from the sun, exactly, but from somewhere. A soft golden hue spread over the water like it was sunset, even though he didn't know what time it was. Time didn't feel real here.
He closed his eyes.
The memories didn't attack this time. They arrived gently, like waves brushing the shore.
His mother's voice on the phone, worried, asking him to come home.
Lia's hand, holding his during their last walk.
His own voice, whispering things in the dark that no one else ever heard.
"I'm not okay."
"I don't know how to fix this."
"I'm scared."
But now… it didn't feel like failure.
It just felt human.
He let out a breath. Maybe the first real one in a long time.
The boat drifted slowly. No direction. No purpose. Just movement. He didn't need to paddle. Didn't need to run. He was done running.
Something flickered in the corner of his eye.
A light — warm and golden — in the water.
He leaned over the side.
Below the boat, deep down, the ocean had changed. It wasn't dark anymore. It was clear. Glowing, almost. Like the surface of a dream.
And down there, far below, he saw it:
A door.
Wooden. Familiar.
The one from his room. From the bathroom.
But this time… it was open.
And beyond it — light.
Not heaven. Not an ending. Just… peace.
He smiled. Just barely.
The boat rocked gently. The boards beneath him began to soften.
His arms slipped to his sides. He leaned back. Let his head rest on the edge.
The sky above blurred. Light bled into everything — sky, sea, his skin. The world faded, like an old film flickering out.
And as it all dissolved, a whisper slipped through the air:
"You're free now, Arin."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A hospital room.Monitors beeping in a slow, steady rhythm.
Arin lies in a bed. Still. Pale. A faint scar on his wrist.Lia sits beside him, eyes red, hand wrapped around his.A woman — his mother — stands by the window, watching the sun rise.
Then — the monitor flatlines.A single, long beep.
Lia doesn't cry. She just holds his hand tighter.
Outside, the wind shifts. The sea can be seen through the hospital window.
Still.
Peaceful.
The End
Arin didn't escape the sea.He became part of it.
But in that drifting… he found himself.