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THIRST.
Out of all the things that hurt, that hurt the most.
It scratched along my thoughts and clawed through my dreams, layering nightmares with desperation for water and drinking and overflowing cups full of sweet tea that my mother so adored.
Gasping, I slammed awake.
And just like that, my thirst was no longer the worst thing I endured.
A groan tore through my lips, involuntary and guttural as I tried to move.
Flashbacks of heavy rain, blinding lightning, and ear-bleeding thunder shot through me with panic.
Melike! Afet!
I shot upright, the world swimming, my eyes hazy, and my head stuffed full of salt-drenched clouds.
My pain was nothing this time.
They were still out there.
Drowning.
“Mel! Where are you!? I—”
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t move. Dad told me you’re not allowed to move.” Something slight and surprisingly strong landed beside me, hands pressing against my bare chest, pushing me backward.
“No.” I fought. “Wait, I need—”
“You’re safe but you’re broken in places and shouldn’t move.” The hands pressed firmer. “Do you understand me? Stop fighting. You’ll only break yourself more.” A firm shove sent me reeling.
My head crunched against something soft.
My body bounced against comfort instead of splinter-splicing wood.
I blinked and did my best to focus.
A girl appeared in my brine-scratched stare.
A girl with sun-streaked dark-brown hair, wild and thick, tanned button nose, and the brightest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They were so pale and clear, they reminded me of moonlight on crystal water.
I licked my dry, storm-cracked lips.
My thirst came back with a vengeance. My throat was agonisingly raw. “Who...who are you?” I asked in my mother tongue.
She sat back and narrowed her bright, bright stare but she didn’t take her tiny hand off my chest. She kept it splayed and planted, daring me to try to fight again.
“I can’t speak your language.” She tilted her head, sending a tumble of sea-wavy hair over her bare shoulder. My gaze slid over her, confusion wrapping tightly around my jumbled thoughts.
Just a child.
She was younger than I first thought.
Her willowy body was hidden beneath a turquoise one-piece bathing costume with dolphins frolicking on the chest. Her arms and legs were long and spoke of grace and strength that she’d eventually grow into, but for now, she was as fragile and opinionated as my little sister.
Melike.
Where are you?
