My Redemption

CHAPTER 3 - ADRIFT

I woke to the gentle sway of the sea, the steady rocking cradling me as if the ocean itself were trying to soothe me. The mist of saltwater sprayed across my face, stinging my eyes and clinging to my skin. I blinked, disoriented, the bright light of the morning sun cutting through my vision. It took me a moment to understand where I was, to remember what had happened.

The storm was gone. The chaos had been replaced by an eerie calm. It was as though the sea had no memory of its fury, as if the violence of the night before had never existed. But I knew better. I could still feel it, the echoes of the storm, like a shadow hovering just beyond reach. The swell of the sea was too smooth, too silent, a mocking reminder of the destruction it had caused.

I was floating on a single piece of large debris, a rough-hewn board from the boat, the edges jagged where the wood had splintered apart. My arms draped over it, fingers curled around its splintering edges as though it were a lifeline. And perhaps it was. The boat, what was left of it, was scattered in pieces around me, bobbing gently on the surface of the water, fragments of a past life that no longer existed.

My head throbbed with dull pain, and when I gingerly touched my temple, my fingertips came away wet. I wasn't sure if it was seawater or blood. My body felt like a weight too heavy to carry, my muscles aching from the strain of holding on through the night. But I was alive. That thought was both a comfort and a burden. Alive. For what?

As I squinted into the light, trying to get my bearings, a sickening realization settled in. My brother, Johnny, was nowhere to be seen. "Johnny!" My voice was hoarse, barely more than a croak. It vanished into the emptiness, swallowed by the endless expanse of water around me. There was no reply. No movement. Just the lazy rocking of the sea, indifferent to my fear, my loss.

I felt panic begin to unfurl in my chest, its icy tendrils creeping through me, but I forced it down. Not now. Not yet. I couldn't afford to lose control, not here. Not alone. I had to think, had to stay calm. Johnny had to be out there, somewhere. He was strong, resourceful. If anyone could survive this, it was him. But as I scanned the horizon, all I saw was water, stretching out in every direction, glistening under the harsh morning sun. No land. No boats. No signs of my brother. Just me and the sea.

The minutes bled into hours, and the sun climbed higher, beating down on me with merciless heat. My clothes, already soaked through from the storm, began to dry and crackle against my skin. Every movement felt like a struggle, my body sluggish and weak. My lips were dry, my throat parched. I needed water, fresh water, but there was none. The sea taunted me with its vastness, all the water in the world, but none of it drinkable.

The fear, the panic that I had fought so hard to suppress, began to rise again. This time, I wasn't sure I could push it back down. What if no one ever found me? What if Johnny was gone, lost beneath the waves, and I was all that was left? The thought gripped me like a vise, squeezing the air from my lungs.

The vastness of the ocean, its cold, indifferent expanse, seemed to mock me. I was a speck, insignificant, barely more than a breath in the face of its immensity. I had always known the sea was dangerous, but I had never felt it like this, never felt so small, so utterly powerless. It was a force beyond comprehension, and I was nothing more than debris, adrift in its wake. I started to take deep, steadying breaths, forcing my mind to focus. Panicking wouldn't help. I needed to survive, needed to think clearly. I pulled myself further onto the piece of debris, making sure I was stable, trying to conserve my energy. The sun was now fully up, its heat relentless. I squinted up at it, cursing its brilliance. I had to find fresh water soon. Dehydration would set in quickly in these conditions.

As the minutes dragged on, the isolation began to gnaw at me. There was no sound but the gentle lapping of the water against the wreckage, no company but my own thoughts. And that was the worst part, being left alone with my thoughts.