PART ONE
Maybe it was that near-death feeling that drew her to the waves, the exhilaration as she launched herself off the rocks and into the crashing water below, the undulating waves a challenger, waiting for the right moment to strike, to pull her deeper and deeper still.
She had been fifteen the first time she jumped, the first time her parents stopped caring like they did with her five other sisters, the first time her siblings cheered and whooped, finally accepting her as one of them, not a stranger who shared their genes and blood — she was the only one with red hair, and that didn't settle well with her elder sisters, as it reminded them too much of their mother.
Sometimes, she thought she was trying too hard. The only reason why she actually bothered jumping was because of the way her sisters phrased it — seeing a whole new world, one where they could be reckless and wild.
After her first jump, she just couldn't resist the temptation of returning to sea every year on her birthday, to smell the salty sea air and swim out to the highest rock she could find, before diving beneath the water and feel the danger pulsing through her veins as she struggled to escape the grasp of nature.
By the time she resurfaced, water droplets were falling from the sky, so many and so quickly that it looked as if the sea and rain had become one giant slab of opaque liquid. A storm had been brewing when she reached the beach, evident by the bruises that tainted the sky, but she hadn't expected such a huge downpour.
Somewhere in the distance, she could vaguely make out the sound of an engine, probably belonging to a speedboat of some sort. Who would be as stupid as to set out to sea in this weather?
She almost scoffed at the irony of it.
The engine started to become louder and louder, until she could see it from where she was, her body numb from the cold and her face streaked with water. She glanced curiously at the speedboat, only to find it headed straight for a rock, but the captain of the ship clearly couldn't see it through the thick sheets of rain.
Her heart palpitated in her chest, panicked thoughts on how to prevent this tradegy that seemed too familiar — like The Titanic — from happening shooting through her mind, but never staying long enough for her to hold on to.
Before she could even compose herself and her thoughts, a loud bang erupted not far away. Her heart stuttered, skipping beats. Within milliseconds, the speedboat started sinking, and screams and yells could be heard, each one a stab to the gut.
Her instinct screamed for her to help them, but yet she wanted to run away from this scene, to erase it from her memory forever. Without further hesitation, she dove beneath the waves once more, and swam towards the wreck, hesitation clouding her mind as she neared the scene.
Breaking above the water surface, her eyes caught on a man around her age, kicking and flailing his arms helplessly as the menacing waves tugged him towards the seabed. Upon catching sight of her, the man shouted even louder, before he vanished under the sea. Her breath caught in her throat and she started towards the man, her arms stretched as far as they could to save him.
As her hands came into contact with his chest, she quickly maneuvered herself so that she was behind him, and wrapped an arm around his chest, before swimming backwards towards shore, carefully avoiding sharp rocks and other obstacles. Once he was safely on sand, she bent over him, checking for sounds of breathing.
He was alive.
Sitting back on her heels, she took some time to study the man's face. Realization hit her like a freight train as she analyzed his straight nose and tousled black hair. She had no doubt that behind those closed lids were eyes bluer than the Pacific itself.
