Bellamy’s favorite place to be was in the water. Her ‘gift’ was almost null when she floated and it was a wonderful reprieve from the constant flow of emotions and memories that buffeted her mind from the objects and people around her. Water was unemotional. It didn’t hold memories the way people and objects did. It was a constant flow of gentle nothingness. It just was.
That’s why the pool had become her private get away. No one came in during the nighttime hours, and it was the best place to be at one in the morning when the nightmares of other’s worst memories sent her shooting up in bed, screaming. It was her decompression room.
And so, floating on her back in the middle of the pool, moonlight streaming in through the large windows, the door opening was not something she was expecting.