I halt at the shoreline, waves crashing into my legs hard enough to nearly knock me off balance, icy water surging around my knees like it’s trying to drag me out after her.
My eyes skim the surface desperately, searching for any sign of her, but there’s nothing.
Just water, waves, and the horrible realization that she might have meant every word she said.
Suddenly, Mattie grabs my wrist and yanks me backward toward safety.
“We can’t be out here. What if they notice we’re gone?” she says, worry carving deep lines into her brow.
My eyes drift back to the treeline, lingering there for a moment, and now it seems to sit unnaturally still beneath the storm, its dense canopy shrouded in shadow, concealing whatever secrets or horror that lies beyond it.
For a second, I imagine things watching from between the trunks, waiting patiently for us to make the wrong move, but I force myself to look away and meet Mattie’s gaze instead.
“I think she’s just lost her mind, you know?” she says, trying to sound reassuring. “Everyone here has just been through a lot.”
I draw in a slow breath through my nose and give a hesitant nod.
Because what choice do we have but to move forward? We can’t stay on this damn beach.
There must be a way off this island.
That woman is gone, swallowed by the sea along with any answers she might have had, and standing here dwelling on her words won’t change that.
We'll just have to be keep going and be careful.
Passing Mattie, I make my way toward the other women gathered nearby. There are only three of them now, standing in a loose cluster on the sand, their damp dresses clinging to their skin, their faces hollow with exhaustion and trauma.
“We need to stick together,” Mattie says, her voice quiet but firm.
And for a moment, none of them respond, they just stare at us.
“No running off on your own, no matter what,” she continues. “Whatever this place is, we’re stronger together than we are apart. If someone comes for us, they’re going to have to deal with all of us at the same time.”
The words sound more confident than any of us actually feel, because inside, I’m just as terrified as they are, maybemore. But someone had to say it. Someone has to act like there’s still a plan that's going to work.
The wind whips through the beach, carrying the scent of salt, rain and something far darker as silence settles over the group.
One by one, the women exchange uneasy glances before giving small, shuddering nods in agreement.
Not because they’re convinced or because Mattie has magically made them feel safe, but because, right now, sticking together is the only thing any of us have left.
Cold rain lashes down in relentless sheets, turning the ground beneath our feet into sucking, ankle-deep mud.
I lead the way, or at least pretend to, but my body still aches from the plastic wrap, the stitches, and the phantom pain that flares with every step I take.
Behind me and Mattie, the others trail close. A trembling brunette with a split lip and swollen, bruised eye who hasn’t spoken since we washed ashore, and two bald women clutching each other’s hands like they’ll vanish if they let go.
The woodland swallows us, twisted trees looming overhead, their branches clawing at the black-and-blue sky like skeletal fingers.
“We shouldn’t be here,” one of the girls whispers behind me, frail voice barely noticable over the drumming rain. “This place… it doesn’t feel right.”
Suddenly, I spot a narrow track that cuts through the trees—a tram track.
“We should follow it,” Mattie says, her voice gruff, eyes locked on where I was looking. “It might lead to shelter. Or a village. Or… something to get off this island.”
The brunette suddenly laughs bitterly and empty.
“Or it leads to whatever made that woman kill herself.”
