A Study in Drowning

by Ava Reid

“I know,” said Effy. “I’m sorry. I’m coming home now.” The words shocked her the second she uttered them. A moment ago, she’d been missing Caer-Isel, but she realized now that even if it was familiar, it wasn’t safe. A beat of silence. Her mother inhaled sharply. “Home? What about your studies?” “I don’t want to go back to Caer-Isel.” The knot of tears rose in her throat so suddenly, it was painful to speak. “Something happened, Mother, and I can’t—” She wanted to tell her mother about Master Corbenic, but any capacity for speech abandoned her. It still only came back to her in flashes; there was no narrative, no story with a beginning, middle, and end. There was only the haziness of dread, the dry-mouthed panic, the nightmares that sent her jolting awake at night. And she knew exactly how much sympathy her mother had for her nightmares. “Effy.” Her mother’s voice was so razor-edged, it made Effy’s stomach curdle. “I don’t want you to come home. You can’t. I have work and you’re an adult now. Whatever mess you’ve made, you need to sort it by yourself. Go back to school. Take your medication. Focus on your studies. Let me have my life. You are taking your pills, aren’t you?” Effy wished, in that moment, that her senses would dull again. She wanted to go to that deep-water place, where she could hear only the churning of the waves above her. But her mind wouldn’t carry her there. Instead she felt acutely the cold press of the telephone against her ear, and the tightening of ...