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Rain pelted his head. It was pouring down, covering him in sheets of cold, but never for long. The vaguely warmer ocean tide rolled in and, nearly toppling him each time, soaking him over and over until his clothes were more like a second skin.
The wind whipping around did nothing to drown out the echoes in his ears or the feeling of hands on his skin. Instead, he only felt more violent, more jittery. Like he was on fire, like he was being shaken apart molecule by molecule.
The scream tore from his throat, ripping out of him like a banshee howl, painful and loud. Never loud enough, though, as nothing would change.
Again and again he screamed. He screamed prayers. He screamed curses and threats. To the sky he screamed and screamed until his voice was hoarse and the water had dragged him to his knees. Chest deep in salty tides, he begged and begged and begged, the tears finally falling to mix with the rest of the sea, blending into the darkened colors.
Hands eventually pulled him back, onto the softer, loose sand. A towel draped across his shoulders and tired, too tired to fight it anymore, he laid his head on the shoulder beside him and allowed the grief to settle deeply into his veins.
She was gone. She was gone and he had two kids to help, a mortgage to pay, and a funeral to prepare. There were so many other things on the list, ever building, preparing to flatten him under the weight and the pressure.
Strong hands gripped his shoulder through layers of wet fabric, the voice above a beacon, a lighthouse against the rocky shore, “I got you. You’re not alone. You’re safe. I got you.”