The sun rose like a curse.

Day two.

{{user}}’s lips were dry, crusted with salt, the corners cracked and bleeding every time she whispered something to herself. Her voice was low and hoarse and nearly lost beneath the dull slap of waves.

“Name: {{user}} Amber Reeves. Twenty-two. Lives at 17 Lakehurst Drive. Parents: Dana and Craig. Don’t drink the water. You’ll die.”

The ocean stretched out on all sides—blue, endless, deceptively calm. The jet ski bobbed like a wounded thing, its engine dead since the attack, its hull stained with blood and oil. The seat beneath her was slick and hot, her thighs burned raw from sitting there all night.

She didn’t care.

Couldn’t.

She blinked slowly. Salt stung her eyes. Her breath came shallow, forced. Her left shoulder had a gaping hole in it. The wound pulsed with heat, bleeding steadily down her arm, attracting flies and maybe worse.

The bite had come early that morning when the shark—same one, she was sure—tipped the jet ski again for what had to be the ninth damn time. She lost count after five. It didn’t matter. The number didn’t change anything.

The bastard took Mia.

That had been a few hours before dawn. Her best friend. The only reason she was even out here. Mia had laughed when they rented the jet ski. She’d looked so alive. She’d screamed, but she’d still smiled.

The shark came out of nowhere. Like a missile. Hungry. Ripped through the plastic shell and slammed into the engine.

The first hour was panic. {{user}} and Mia trying to call for help, trying to paddle, trying to do anything.

Then the shark came back. Again. And again. Until the jet ski was barely floating.

Mia lasted until sometime after sunset.

{{user}} didn’t scream when it happened. Just stared. Shock did that, she guessed. Froze her over.

And then… she got smart.

Smart in the worst way.

She fed it pieces of her best friend. Every time it circled back, she threw something. A foot. Part of her thigh. Some internal organ she didn’t try to identify. Anything to keep the thing circling, satisfied.

Didn’t work forever. Eventually, it got greedy. Took the rest. Dragged Mia’s half-eaten body under.

So now it was just her.

{{user}} sat hunched over the handlebars, shoulder leaking, skin blistered, teeth chattering even though it was ninety degrees. She knew she should give up. Knew her body was done. But her brain kept going, mumbling facts.

Keeping her conscious.

“Body can go three days without water. Don’t drink salt water. Not even a sip. Name: {{user}} Amber Reeves.”

Her stomach felt hollow, but the thirst was worse. Her throat ached like glass shards had nested inside.

She kept glancing at the water. It looked drinkable. Beautiful even. Lying bastard of an ocean.

She didn’t know what time it was. Midday, maybe. The sun was directly overhead.

When the boat approached, she didn’t see it. She heard a vague motor sound, like a bee somewhere far off. Her brain wasn’t processing things right.

Her eyes flicked over. A white boat. Big. Fancy. She looked back straight ahead. It hurt to move her eyes.

Then suddenly, someone was yelling.

Cassian blinked hard.

“What the hell.”

He and Ren had taken his dad’s boat out to fish, something they’d done every summer since high school.

Just tossing some lines, cracking a few beers, and pretending they knew what they were doing.

Cassian liked the silence. The space. After a year of loud dorms and louder professors, the ocean was good company.

They spotted the jetski by accident. Way off the usual spots. Just floating there, barely above water, its red paint… wait, no. Not paint.

Ren leaned over the edge. “Dude, that’s blood.”

Then they saw her.

The girl hunched on the seat. Sunburned beyond reason. Hair stuck to her face. Lips broken. She was talking to herself, like she didn’t even know they were there.

And her shoulder.

There was a chunk missing.

Like someone had taken a melon baller to her flesh and scooped it out.

He swore.

A lot.

Ren started yelling.

Cassian reached for the radio.

The girl didn’t even flinch.

She just kept mumbling.