The ocean can be gentle, lulling one into a false sense of security. But the waters are never calm in the Bermuda triangle, and when the waves pick up, one may be dragged under the sea.
Kiara Vatelle's love of the ocean brings her to The Bahamas for...
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The sound of my espresso maker was soothing, like rain. I was too tired to think or feel anything—all I could do was watch my cup slowly fill with extra strong coffee. It only took a minute to finish pouring. I grabbed a container of croissants from the care-basket one of my friends had sent and plopped myself down at the table.
The large, glass panels covering my apartment enabled me to have a perfect view of the ocean. I took a sip of my morning beverage, staring at the distant blue waves. The coffee was scalding on my throat, and my hands burned as I held the mug. I didn't care. I was captivated by the rise and fall of the sea. I began to imagine Kiara there with the waves crashing over her, burying her. I shut my eyes, trying to rid my mind's eye of the image.
I choked down another gulp of the liquid. My mouth was filled with a bitter flavor. I suddenly realized why: I hadn't added milk or sugar yet. I reached across the table for the sugar. My gaze fell on the chair that Kiara had sat in when we had eaten breakfast together only a week ago. Had it only been a week? It felt like it had been an eternity since I'd last seen her.
I hadn't left my house since I last went to the police station. A few friends had dropped by, but I had just pretended not to hear the doorbell ring. Fortunately, they got the hint. Instead, they began bringing over gifts and leaving them outside my door. I'd gotten everything from flowers to pastries to stuffed animals. But materials items did not numb the loss that I felt.
I snapped out of my thoughts. I realized that I had just dumped twelve heaping spoonfuls of sugar into my coffee. It can't taste that bad, right? I stirred it up, then tasted a sip. It was awful. I sighed and rose to make another cup.
I was interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing and vibrating on the table. I glanced at the phone number. 911. I picked up instantly.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hello, Miss Vatelle? This Officer Cehleis from the police station. We need you to come down to the police station."
"What's happened?" Hope bubbled up in my chest. Have they found her? Is she safe?
"Last night there was a terrible storm," the officer explained. Her voice was hesitant, but she continued with certainty. "This morning, the coast guard found a body during their routine check of the shore. It matches the description of your sister."
The way she said the word 'body' was grim. Any relief, any hope I had was smashed.
"We need you to come to the station to identify it."
I felt myself sink into my chair at the table. My mind zoomed a million miles an hour. How am I going to explain this mom and dad? Will they hate me? Will they disown me? Will they blame it all on me? Is it all my fault that she was swept out to sea? Did I let my baby sister die?
"Miss Vatelle? Miss Vatelle?" The officer's voice coaxed me back to earth. "Miss Vatelle, are you alright?"
"Y-Yes," I stammered. "I—I'll be right down there."
