Cursed Waters

Named

Alana woke up restless and annoyed, she hadn't been able to sleep the night before, the image of the girl sprawled on the beach still vivid in her mind, and James hadn't rung or texted. She pulled on an extra cardigan over her t-shirt and cargo shorts, it was just past dawn and the air outside seemed like tiny ice-cold needles stabbing into her skin. She made sure to close the door tight, wary of drafts that might curl in and alert her brother Stephen of her missing presence.

She jogged the way to The Wave and knocked tentatively at the door, unsure if anyone was in at that time of day. A few seconds later, James rushed out to meet her, his face a mask but his cheeks heated from the biting cold. He ushered her into the dark place, and recounted to her what happened after she left,

"My God, Alana," He said her name with a familiarity she wasn't sure was supposed to be there, "Her skin was ice cold even in the hospital, and she needed blood transfusions, my father payed for her expenses. No one could place her, she's completely off the grid, she's comatose at the moment, it's drug induced, don't worry" He quickly interjected, seeing surprise and then worry flash across her face, "No one knows her name, or where she comes from, she looks like a mix of two races I can't identify, possibly blasian, what with her tight black ringlets and Asian-looking face, but with full lips."

"That's weird. There are no records of her anywhere?" She incredulously asked, eyebrows arched,

"None. They tried her fingerprints and swabbed her cheek, nothing." He matched her expression, "The hospital got special permission to find her guardian, but they've scoured the international records, she doesn't exist."