Please don't judge
I know this is bad
But I haven't updated anything in 5 months and I feel I owe it to y'all
Enjoy :)
Chapter 1
Melody hadn’t known when the floor started tilting.
She’d actually been asleep, curled up in her bunk, oblivious to the fact her sleep might be permanent. And it wasn’t just the floor tipping, it was the whole ship itself. The first was just a lull, nothing more than a wave tossing the _____ up and setting it down gently. But then it happened again, and again, and again. . . .
And it had been impossible to sleep. Melody wasn’t the type to get seasick, but her stomach churned even in her half-asleep state. Blinking, she turned on the light.
Thinking proved easier with the bright LED glare. She felt her brain start, thoughts crashing upon each other. Part of her grumbled at being woken up this early, but another desire had taken over her, a more urgent one. She pressed her ear to the wall.
“. . . it’s so stormy outside . . .”
“. . . no duh, that’s why we’re being tossed around like this . . .”
“. . . do you think they’re kidding? I can’t believe it . . .”
Her neighbors said more, but the conversation grew too quiet to hear through a _____ wall. For the hundredth time, Melody wished she wasn’t here. The trip hadn’t been her idea.
“You can spend winter break with me in [city name] while your mother sorts out her issues . . . it’ll be like two vacations in one. You’ve always wanted to see more of the world. . . .”
If the trip had been planned by anyone else, she would’ve gotten on a plane, flown to [city name], and gotten there quickly without a hassle. But her dad was so extra, so damning oblivious. Sure, she didn’t mind boats, and she loved vacations. But spending a week as a shunned teenager in the midst of rich adults wasn’t her idea of a good time. Plus, the last time she mentioned traveling the world had been four years ago. Not that he remembered.
And sitting in the middle of a sea storm seemed pretty depressing. Not to mention ironic, as storms were rare at this time. Hurricanes too.
“Attention passengers.” The voice was loud and squawky, the kind that makes you cringe, but of course it came from an intercom. “This is our fifth and final warning. Please make your way to the dock. We regret to inform you—” there was a slight catch in the voice “—that the ship is sinking.”
What?
Melody laughed at her own joke. No doubt this was some screwed-up lucid dream, one where her trepidation of this trip blended into nightmares on a shipwreck. In the morning, this would all be something to smile on, to think, Wow, I was so paranoid.
After all, things like this happened in movies, Titanic and _____.
“Lifeboats are waiting at the dock. There should be enough room for everyone. I repeat, please make your way to the dock,” the intercom spoke again.
At that moment, Melody stubbed her toe on a chair. It hurt. It really hurt. She pinched her forehead, even smacked her head on the wall . . . and the painful realization came with a headache. This wasn’t a dream.
The [ship name] really was sinking.
Panicking, she threw her full weight on the door. It didn’t budge. It was locked.
Where is that damn key card? She had two, she remembered. Everyone had two, and she couldn't find either of them. Furiously, she searched the desk, her luggage, the pockets of the jeans she’d worn yesterday. They were all empty.
Under the bed, maybe? She flopped down on her belly and crawled under. Nothing.
“Final call for lifeboats. The [ship name] is sinking. Please make your way to the dock and get on a lifeboat. The ship’s sinking!”
Whoever was speaking had let the despair seep into his voice. The same despair that was leaking into her bloodstream, cold in her bones. There was a beep as the intercom disconnected, which surely meant one thing—even the captain was leaving. They weren’t supposed to leave, weren’t they? She’d read somewhere that there was an oath, that a captain couldn’t abandon ship until everyone had gone.
Or was that in war only?
Melody screamed. Cabin doors had been reinforced, built to withstand storms (the marine equivalent of earthquakes). Which meant they didn’t fricking open. No matter how much she pounded the wood, no matter how many times she pushed with all her might, it wouldn’t budge. She racked her brain again.
Where is my key card?
Why couldn’t she have been awake when the first warning sounded? Why couldn’t she be on the dock right now, terrified, but still stepping into a lifeboat nevertheless? Why couldn’t she be outside, where she could dive into the ocean and swim by herself?
Why couldn’t she find her key card?
Worse now, the floor was more tilted than ever. It was like one of those plastic slides she’d loved as a kid. Slanted, extremely difficult to stand upright on. She had to grab onto the chair to steady herself.
She scoured the room for some way to escape. There were no openings other than the door, and there wasn’t a gap between it and the floor. Nothing, so she’d suffocate instead of sink. Unless the water pressure was so great it could shatter the walls.
But there were vents, for air conditioning and heating. Water could seep in through there, right? So she really would drown.
I can’t find my key card! Somebody help!
She actually screamed those words out. But by the time they registered she knew nobody would come. She was the only one left.
Melody took one last breath and prepared to die.
