A loud SLAP wakes me from the wonderful dream I was having about whales. My head jerks at the sound and I crane my neck to see Jack glowering above me, silhouetted by the early-afternoon sun.

I can recognize fury when I see it, so I sigh loudly in annoyance, “What is it now, Jack?”

Without even so much as a hello, he snaps, “Look, nimrod.”

I twist my spine and blink at a copy of US Magazine that’s skewed against my side. With a start, I snatch up the glossy paper, sitting upright as I cry, “No!”

Staring back at me is an old Stone family photo, before Max’s death. My father. I still can’t identify him in that way without feeling like I’m in a Twilight Zone episode. But the horrifying part is that superimposed over the top right of this famous family picture is me, dancing on the bar back in New York in my magic blue dress, my arms thrust out in front of me like Superman. Headline: Stone Family’s Billions Squandered By Bastard Surprise.

“Oh no,” I moan, feeling the air in my lungs begin to spin.

“Oh yes,” my new brother sneers, dropping a fluttering pile of periodicals to add to my nightmare. Some are American, others are from Spain, France, Britain, and Canada. One after the other, I scan their covers and toss them aside, overcome by a debilitating nausea. In most, I’m with Sean and Jack and the look on my face is so cold, I come off as an ice queen bitch. On three covers is the photo taken at my apartment, the one we posed for. The boys look great with their practiced smirks, but in this, I look absolutely terrified.

Maxwell Stone Gave The Nanny More Than A Tip

“No. Oh no no no no no no.” I moan, unable to stop looking.

Saints Jack and Sean Stone Accept Bastard Baby Sister

Another Nanny Breaks Up Home–Costs Family Millions

Rue Calliwell Squanders Inheritance on Booze and Men

Staring at the image of Jack’s and my hand clasped tight, my stomach twists. Just Siblings? asks the headline.

With water rippling off her hair, Jenna returns from a swim in the pool leaving a trail of watery footprints behind her. “What’s up? Oh my GOD!” She grabs one of the magazines, then another. Then another.

Stripping my eyes away from a photo of Alec holding me as we plowed through the mob at the Hyatt, I look over to Jenna who’s sitting on the chair next to mine with her eyes huge and horrified. She holds up People Magazine and shrugs, trying to see the silver lining. “At least you look good.” I read the headline: Olivia Calliwell, Billionaire’s Nanny, Made More Than His Beds.

My hand flies to my throat as hot tears lash my eyes. Jenna goes white, realizing how much this has pierced me. “Rue, I’m sorry…”

I barely hear her. They’re saying everything Jack’s been thinking, completely validating his treatment of me. They think I’m trash. A child of infidelity, and they’re right. What kind of pride can be taken in the way I came to be? I’m a baby born from only pain, hidden secretly until age twenty-one when I was destined to rise up and dishonor the memory of a ‘great man’ and bring his family to powdery ashes.

I jump up and run. From the headlines. From Jack. From me.

Leaping into the air, I throw my arms above me and dive into the pool’s sweet baptism. The sounds of the world morph into a vortex of blessed indiscernible nothingness. I breathe bubbles of air out, removing as much of my body’s buoyancy as possible, paddling my arms lightly to sink to the bottom and stay here. Down here lies escape. Nothing matters. Not even me. Especially not me.

I’ve been spinning ever since I awoke to discover Jack announcing mysteriously from my doorstep that I’d be hearing from his lawyer. I’ve been caught in a tornado of insecurity and excitement, ego and pride, freedom and fear. And underneath those, I’ve been trying to fit in just like I promised myself I wouldn’t. I’ve been reaching beyond my own truth in a vain attempt to become an idea.

I’ve been trying to be like them. But I’m not like them. I’m nothing. And now the whole world knows it.

My lungs hurt, but I ignore them, and lose myself in the distraction of the sun’s kaleidoscope of refracted light throughout the water.

It’s so beautiful, peaceful and otherworldly.

It beckons me to stay.

I watch it and feel peaceful for the first time since I heard the news. The feeling is so longed for that I don’t even know what I’m doing when I open my mouth and let a little water in. In the far reaches of my mind, I know it’s not air, but it feels better than the air I’ve been breathing. The dull echo of sounds begins to be replaced by the sweet lullaby of my slowing heart as I drink more.

Images from my life float by and I grow sleepy as I hazily observe them. Sean and I dancing by ourselves at Space Ibiza with him doing the robot and making me cramp up from laughing. My mother taking a bite of my peanut butter toast so big that it was almost gone, and then laughing with her mouth full as I got mad. The time when she and I laughed so hard we peed our pants. How much I miss her. My audition for The Lion King Musical where I was covered in sweat and happiness as we went over the routines again and again. I can see my feet finding the steps. There’s Jenna and I holding hands as we rode across the Brooklyn Bridge. Her exploding into my room at age twelve, screaming that she’d finally kissed Trathen Heckman and how it was just as great as she thought it would be. Alec…Alec pulling me into the elevator and kissing me so hard my teeth nearly cut my lips. The cacophony of noise at the airport forcing him to yell his declaration that I wasn’t alone.

I’m not alone.

Not alone…

Not alone…

I gasp for air, but there is no air down here and gasping only makes that painfully clear. The water has become so heavy. My limbs won’t move; throat and body are numb.

There is no more anything.

No more pain. No more chances. No more love.