My eyes shot open, only to be blinded by the sun. I gasped for breath, feeling as if my lungs were flooding with salt water, yet I realised it was all in my head.
Frantic, I looked around, trying to piece together how I ended up on the shore, broken yacht metal scattered all around me.
Then memories slammed into me like a speeding car—fragmented, sharp, and merciless. There was a storm. Screams. John's voice cutting through the chaos, yelling my name, trying to save me.
Everything had happened so fast. One moment we were enjoying a calm evening on my parents' yacht, sailing toward his family's private island for our honeymoon.
We had dinner. There was music. And then... Ah yes, we went to our bedroom, got naked. I flushed at the memory; we'd made love. But the roaring thunder cut it short. The storm came hard and fast. I barely had time to throw on my silk robe.
What happened after that? I can't remember clearly—just more yelling, more screaming... and someone dying. Who?
Our honeymoon was different. We'd planned to spend it with both families, all of us putting aside work for one weekend before returning to the real world.
Did Mom make it? Dad? John? Everyone else? Am I the only one left?
I forced myself to stand, shaking off the spiral. I had to believe they were safe. I had to believe I was too.
Then I looked down. My silk robe was gaping open, flashing my naked breasts and… great. My neatly trimmed bush was now slightly wild and untamed, waving hello to the world.
Perfect. Just perfect.
To make matters worse, the belt for my robe was gone, forcing me to hold it shut with my hands.
When I finally took in my surroundings, it was clear I was stranded on an island, though not the one I was hoping for. If it were, I'd already have been found.
The ocean stretched out ahead while the jungle loomed behind. Logic said stay put and wait for help.
My family is rich. If I vanish for even a few hours, there's a search party. I'll be fine.
Going into the jungle would be stupid without knowing what's inside.
So I sat near the shade of a tree, watching the waves.
Hours crawled by. My mouth was dry, my stomach growled, and boredom gnawed at me. No phone meant no messaging Daria and Sarah.
When I'm saved, I'm ordering the most expensive dish on the menu and the finest wine. Then I'll forget this day ever happened, and my husband and I will be ready to mingle again.
But then the sky turned blood-red, the wind bit through my robe, and still, no help.
I started pacing to stay warm, trying not to think about water, food, or the heat draining from my body.
Just in case I wasn't saved tonight, I decided I should prepare wood for a fire. School had taught me how: wood, stones, friction—blah blah. I hadn't paid much attention, but how hard could it be?
I eyed the jungle, about to step inside, when I heard a strange screech followed by the faint scream of a man.
John? Maybe. Or maybe just the island playing tricks on me.
I told myself to ignore it. Going into the jungle was obviously dangerous.
I would be patient. I was going to be saved. Absolutely.
•••
A Few Hours Later:
Maybe not.
Night fell, cold and merciless. My robe was still damp. I was thirsty, hungry, and dangerously close to crying.
Help wasn't coming. I had been stupid to think it would.
Mom, Dad, and John were probably gone. I'd never see Daria, Sarah, or my cat again.
I hugged myself for warmth, but it was useless. The cold only deepened with every passing second.
The stars and moon lit the sky, bright but meaningless against my growling stomach and dry throat.
Then came the sounds: wolves howling, strange shouts, and eerie, creeping noises. I shut my eyes and started counting, like Mom had taught me when I was little.
I didn't even make it to ten before giving up. Counting wasn't going to calm me.
So I looked back to the ocean, letting the rise and fall of the tide tug at my thoughts. The rhythmic crash of waves was almost soothing—until I saw it.
A person?
It was too dark to tell. Just a shadow on the water. Were they drowning… or standing on top of it?
A shiver knifed down my spine. My pulse kicked into overdrive. Every instinct screamed at me to look away, to pretend I hadn't seen it. But… if they were drowning, could I really just let them sink?
I gripped my robe tighter—not just to cover myself and keep warm, but as if the thin silk could somehow protect me.
My feet moved before my brain caught up. Slow, hesitant steps crunched across the damp sand toward the shore.
As my eyes adjusted, the shape sharpened. The closer I got, the less it looked human… and the more it looked wrong. Its head hung at an unnatural tilt, limbs swaying like loose strings in the water's pull.
Then it moved. Not toward me exactly, but in a way that made the surface ripple without a sound, as though the ocean itself was shifting under it.
I froze. The wind clawed at my skin, and a sick weight settled in my stomach.
Drowning people don't move like that. Right? Of course not. I should run. But… how?
I stood there, paralysed, shallow breaths barely leaving my chest.
This is how I die… ridiculous, but true.
The thing kept closing the distance. The little light left was swallowed by the darkness.
I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to die… I was going to die!
I chanted it like a mantra, eyes locked on the thing, as if sheer terror could drive it away. It didn't.
Then, just as I was ready to give up, a voice broke through. Strong. Rough. Commanding.
"Hey! Back up towards me. Really slow."
The spell shattered. I could move again. Still terrified, but mobile. And the thing… had stopped.
It was still there though, which meant I could still die. So, best to listen to the stranger.
I backed up, really slow. Still clutching my robe, of course.