SHE COULD SMELL THE OCEAN AND HEAR THE pounding of the surf. She could see the sky above her, so very blue and clear, but she couldn’t move at all.
Her body had gone numb hours ago. At first the numbness had been a blessing. She’d just wanted the pain to stop, and it had. She didn’t even scream any longer. What would be the point? There was no one around to hear her. No one was coming to help her.
Seagulls cried out, circling above her. She didn’t want them to fly down. What if they started to peck at her? Please, leave me alone.
Her mouth was dry, filled with bits of sand. Tears had dried on her cheeks.
“Why are you still alive?” The curious voice came from beside her because he was there, watching, as he’d watched for hours. “Why don’t you give in? You know you want to just close your eyes and let go.”
She did. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend that she was just having a bad dream. A nightmare. When her eyes opened again, she’d be someplace different. Someplace without monsters.
He came closer to her, and she felt something sharp slide into the sand with her. A knife. He liked to use his knife. It pricked her skin, but then he lifted the knife and pressed the blade against her throat.
“I can end this for you. Do it now. Just tell me . . .” His words were dark. Tempting. “Tell me that you want to die.”
The surf was so close. She’d always loved the ocean. But she’d never expected to die like this. She didn’t want to die like this. She realized the tears weren’t dry on her face.
She was still crying. Her cheeks were wet with tears and blood.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me that you want to die.”
She shook her head. Because death wasn’t what she wanted. Even after all he’d done, she didn’t want to stop living.
She didn’t want to give up.
The knife sliced against her neck. A hoarse moan came from her lips. Her voice had broken when she screamed and screamed. She should have known better than to scream.
That was what he’d told her. You should know better, sweetheart. It’s just you and me. Until your last breath.
Her blood mixed with the sand. He was angry again. Or . . . no, he’d always been angry. She just hadn’t seen the rage, not until it was too late. Now she couldn’t look at him at all. No matter what he did to her, she wouldn’t look at him.
She didn’t want to remember him this way. Actually, she didn’t want to remember him at all.
Her gaze lifted to the blue sky. To those circling seagulls.
I want to fly, Daddy. She’d been six the first time she’d come to the island and seen the gulls. I want to fly like them.
Her father had laughed and told her that it looked like she’d lost her wings.
She’d lost more than that.
“I want to fly,” she whispered.
“Too bad, because you’re not flying anywhere. You’re going to die here.”
But there was no death for her yet, and she wasn’t begging.
The gulls were blurry now, because of her tears.
He’d buried her in the sand, covering her wounds and packing the sand in tightly around her. Only her head and some of her neck remained uncovered. Her hands were bound, or so he thought.
But she’d been working beneath the sand. Working even as the moments ticked so slowly past, and he kept taunting her.
He had taken his time with this little game. Tried to break her in those endless hours.
She wouldn’t be broken.
Her hands were free. If he’d just move that knife away from her neck . . .
He lifted the knife and stabbed it into the sand—into the sand right over her left shoulder. She choked out a cry as the sharp pain pierced her precious numbness.
“You’ll beg soon,” he told her. Then he was on his feet. Stalking away from her. “They all do.”
He’d left the knife in her shoulder and made the mistake of turning his back on her.
She’d lived this long . . . if she was going out, she’d fight until her last breath.
Her fingers were free. She just had to escape the sand. The heavy sand that he’d packed and packed around her.
Burying me.
She could feel the faint cracks start to slip across the sand as she shifted. Her strength was almost gone, but she could do this. She had to do it. If she didn’t, she was dead.
He was turning back toward her.
Move! The scream was in her head, and she managed to lunge up. Her right hand grabbed the hilt of the knife. She jerked the blade out of her shoulder and surged to her feet even as the sand rained down her body.
He was yelling, screaming at her. She didn’t care. She charged forward and slammed the knife into his chest. Their eyes met. It was the only time she’d looked into his gaze since the torture had begun.
She saw herself reflected in his stare.
He fell, slumping back. She didn’t stop to see if he was still alive. She didn’t care. She raced for the edge of the beach, for the little boat that was anchored just offshore. Then she was stumbling into the surf. The water was icy against her skin, and she knew her blood was turning the water red.
She wasn’t afraid of sharks. Men were the killers. Men just like—
“Don’t leave me!” His bellow.
He was still alive. He was coming after her.
She fell into the boat. Fumbled. She’d been around boats her whole life. She could start the motor, even with hands that wouldn’t stop trembling. She could start—
The motor growled. She shoved the throttle forward. The boat surged away from that little beach, jumping, bouncing over the waves.
He was still shouting. She was laughing. Crying. Not looking back.
She would never look back. Never. He hadn’t broken her. Hadn’t killed her.
She gazed up at the gulls. I want to fly.
Then the boat hit the rocks. Heavy rocks that she’d known were out there, but she’d tried to maneuver around them too late. The boat twisted and shot into the air.
And, in the next instant, she really was flying. Flying and then slamming face first into the water. The water was so red.
Her blood.
She tried to kick back to the surface. She wouldn’t give up.
But her body was so tired. The numbness . . . it had vanished. Pain was back. A deep agony that cut into every muscle.
The surface was farther away. She could just see the outline of the gulls above her.
I want to fly.
She tried to swim. Tried to reach the surface. She didn’t want to die.
But she didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. The waves rolled around her, and the seagulls vanished.