18

I STAND IN THE center of the ship, as far from the water as I can get. The skies remain dark, but the rain has eased for now.

I came up in the night, unable to sleep with the rocking of the boat. All I could think of was the ocean around me.

Ophelia comes to stand beside me, not breaking the silence. She wanders to the railing, looking out at the water.

"It's violent, the way the waves crash against the ship."

"That's why I'm here in the center of the deck. I can't breathe below deck, and I'm fairly certain I'll die up here, too. But that doesn't seem to matter."

She glances back at me. "The point of this isn't to be easy. We have to figure out what we're missing in all of this."

Nothing is missing. But I don't say it. I close my eyes, feeling the rise and fall of the ship beneath my feet. I used to like being on boats, out on the water. Swimming, jet skis, wakeboarding—I soaked it all in. I've even dabbled in surfing.

But now, I can't even bring myself to look at the ocean without seeing the way Moriah looked when she was pulled from the water. Her skin a pale green, her hair matted to her face.

I take a deep breath, too untethered to open my eyes.

The waves rock the boat violently. I stumble over my feet, lurching to my knees on the deck. Lightning sizzles, and a clap of thunder crashes in the air. My eyes fly open at the sound, and I see another lightning flash in the distance. I'm paralyzed. A hand grabs my shoulder, breaking me from the moment. Ophelia looks as afraid as I feel. "We need to get below deck," she says near my ear.

Rain starts to fall, a few drops at first, then a full-on downpour. We begin to run towards the stairs, but the ship starts to rock as the waves crash violently against the hull.

I'm unsteady on my feet; the deck is slick with rain. Ophelia grabs my arm, trying to steady herself. Her hands are cold against my skin. I can only imagine how cold I must feel to her.

The stairs feel far away, like the storm is blowing us backwards across the deck. I nearly slip again, but Ophelia grabs my arm, guiding me to the doorway.

"We shouldn't run," Ophelia shouts over the downpour. "We'll just slip and fall."

I nod an agreement, taking each step carefully. She releases my arm, walking cautiously behind me. It's tedious and painful. The rain has thoroughly soaked me now and my teeth are chattering.

Finally, the doorway is within reach. I grab the wooden paneling and turn to face Ophelia. I reach out my hand, back into the rain, something she can grab onto. Just as her fingertips brush mine, a massive wave crashes roughly against the ship.

The force of the water causes the ship to jerk wildly. Ophelia slips on the deck. I go to grab her hand, but I'm slipping, too. I grasp at a metal pole nearby that is rooted firmly into the deck. This holds me steady despite the rocking of the ship. With my footing firm, I reach out again to Ophelia, who is only a few feet away, trying to rise from all fours. Our hands meet, and I grip hers tightly, despite the slick rain on our palms.

We steady ourselves, fighting against the wind and the rain. Carefully, we make it back to the stairs. I usher Ophelia in first, then follow her.

The ship rights itself, but it continues to rock viciously in the storm. Nothing about this feels real. I guess the magic of the dream is working against us.

"I don't know how to get out of this." Ophelia exhales, her clothes clinging to her body. She's pacing, rubbing her arms with her hands.

I pull my soaked shirt off, laying it on one of the crates.

"You have a tattoo?"

I stiffen, unsure why I feel suddenly vulnerable with Ophelia here. "Yeah," I manage to say.

She steps closer to study my back. Down my spine is a series of birds in flight, etched into my skin in black ink. She doesn't touch them, though something inside of me wishes she would. I want to feel her cold fingers against my spine. I can almost feel her gaze burning hot on each bird.

"It's nice." I feel her breath on my back. I turn to face her, finding she is closer than I thought. "Is it real or is it just the dream?"

"It's real. I got it a couple of years ago."

She nods, and then her eyes fall on the tattoo on the front of my left shoulder. It's a compass. This one she says nothing about.

"Remember that book we read when we were young that I hated because the main character died in the end?"

"Of course," she says softly.

"I read it after the accident. I saw it on my shelf. I needed to have something tangible to hold onto. And I finally understood the ending after all these years. So I got a compass tattoo like the main character had."

"What does it mean to you?"

"Hope. I may not know True North now. But I want to find it."

Maybe I have found it, at this moment. Looking at Ophelia, I realize that my path has always led to her, even when we both wanted to be far away from each other.

I made a lot of mistakes in my heartache. I pushed away the one person who has never judged me for all the things I've done wrong.

I was afraid to find out if I had been wrong about Moriah.

I was afraid to let my mind wonder what would've happened if I had made the right choice.

Neither of us speaks for a while, but I can feel when Ophelia glances at me. Studying me.

"So, what do we do?" I break the silence.

"I don't know." She doesn't move back. "The only thing I can think of is trying to take control of the ship. But we need to wait for the storm to die down for that."

"There has to be a way to wake ourselves up."

"I don't think so. He seemed pretty determined that we had to do something in order to wake up. But I don't know what that would be."

"If it has to do with fear… maybe we have to take control of the ship while it rains." I hate myself for even bringing a voice to that thought.

She shivers, finally moving away from me. I grab my wet shirt and say, "I'll try to do it. You stay here."

"No, we should go together."

"It's dangerous."

"That's the point. We both have to fight to wake up. So, we both have to face the danger head on."

I nod slowly, though I don't like putting her in any more danger than I already have. The ship is still rocking violently, but we slowly climb the stairs. My shoulders hit the side wall a few times; it's hard to keep my balance against the angry storm.

We both pause when we reach the top. The rain is heavier than it ever was, the ship tilting and turning in the gale. The deck is slippery. As we step into the rain, the ship tilts violently. Ophelia loses her balance and slips sideways.

"Ophelia!" I reach for her hand, but find myself sliding, too. I catch the railing, bringing myself to a stop.

Ophelia slips over the short railing and falls overboard.

"NO!" I yell, as she disappears beneath the waves. I wait for a breath.

Then two.

When she doesn't break the surface, I know there's no time to hesitate.

No time to think.

I close my eyes and let go of the railing. I plunge into the icy the water, letting the waves crash above me.

I choke when water rushes down my throat, my arms and legs flailing. Panic claws at my heart, my chest tightening from the cold and the fear. I break the surface for only a second, barely catching my breath. I need to focus. Ophelia doesn't have a lot of time if she's underwater. I swim around, looking for any sign of her in the murky ocean.

I dive.

I can hardly see anything, trying to hold my breath as I look for her.

I break the surface again, though this time the waters are doing everything they can to keep me down. I gasp for air, taking it in, then dive again.

I'm starting to panic when I finally spot her. She's sinking slowly, not fighting the water.

She's unconscious. And there's a cut bleeding on her temple.

I swim fast towards her without a second thought, grabbing her around her waist and bringing her to the surface. I work to keep her head above water, to keep her from slipping away from me. I'm battling hard enough to keep myself above the waves.

"Ophelia," I yell over the howling wind.

She doesn't respond. Her eyes don't even twitch. I don't know how much water she took into her lungs. And that cut is bleeding worse now that the water can't wash it out.

My right arm is tight around her waist. The other arm keeps us afloat as I tread the water.

The storm is not letting up. I try to head towards the boat, but I don't know how we'll get back on. As I get closer, I realize that, in the violence of the storm, a life preserver must've been knocked off the boat. It bobs on its rope, a circle of orange beckoning to us from near the railing. I swim towards that, though it takes forever battling the choppy waves and dragging Ophelia, whose weight is only increasing as my arms tire.

That scares me, makes me wonder if she's even breathing. I have to get her to the life preserver, use it to hold her up. Then I can try to get us back on the boat.

I pull the white and orange ring over Ophelia's head, threading her arms through. It holds her up as her head slumps to the side. I push my fingers to her neck and can feel her pulse throbbing weakly against my fingertips. It's very faint, but still, it's enough to make me hopeful.

I start to look for a way back onto the boat. I push the life preserver toward the hull, keeping a hold on it to help me stay afloat as well.

There are hand- and footholds on the side of the ship, but of course Ophelia can't grasp them.

Not in her condition.

The choice is clear: save myself, or doom us both.

That's when I notice a small dinghy that hangs near the railing of the ship. Somehow, in the chaos, it wasn't knocked free. If I can bring it down, I can get us both to safety.

"I'll be back. I promise. Please don't let go," I murmur next to Ophelia's ear, brushing my lips against her cheek before I climb to get the dinghy.

I keep an eye on Ophelia; the waves are making her rise and fall. But thankfully, the orange ring continues to hold her firmly, although her head is still slumped.

I climb into the dinghy and begin lowering it to the water with the pulley system.

Once I'm down to the surface, I jump back into the water to push Ophelia's life preserver closer. I then haul myself back into the small boat and pull Ophelia inside. I lay her down on the small bench, waiting to see if she'll wake up on her own.

I check her pulse once more. It beats stronger than it was before.

"Ophelia," I murmur, but my eyes begin to shut. I'm exhausted. My body slumps against the other bench.

Then everything fades away and it all goes dark.