Where is the sea? (WT) Chapter 3

The freshly mowed grass, shorn short down to the stiff, sharp culms, pricked her thighs. She never enjoyed playing in the yard the way her sisters did, but someone important was at the house today. Someone who brought treats, and presents, and stories. The sun burned high in the sky, it was probably noon, but she didn't feel any hunger at all, only a small headache. It was a beautiful day and yet she knew something was wrong.

The Important Visitor suddenly ran through the yard, yelling for the girls to leave, "Come on! Hurry!"and her sisters scurried after him like little squirrels, using both hands and arms to propel themselves forward. But Marina was stuck. She couldn't move. She wanted to run, but her legs were heavy, and now they were wrapped in vines that had crept up through the ground. The vines turned to fingers, and she tried to scream, "Help! Help me!" But the words didn't come out. She was stuck, reaching for her sisters and the Important Visitor. Her arm grew, longer, longer, the longer it grew the further he got away until he was a tiny blurred vision set within a circular frame in the distance, like looking through a mediocre telescope. Finally, he turned around to ensure the girls were there. She felt the realization, the panic, and the horror, as he registered that she was left behind.

Somberly, he returned, peering directly into the opposite end of the telescope, his face distorted by the convex lens, and pulled down the shade. Marina screamed, sobbing and...

Woke up. Tears rolled down the side of her cheek as reality materialized around her again. She blinked. Through the window on the other side of the room she could see the sky shifting from one part of the day to the other - whether morning to night or night to morning she couldn't tell. Her headache was gone, and the nausea seemed to have been tamed by whatever medicine the man had given her earlier.

She jolted to sitting. She was on a boat, going to the Bahamas, and she hadn't seen Jazzy in... hours? Hastily she scrambled out of bed to the door of the room and threw it open. The sweet, briny scent of the ocean filled her senses immediately.

Marina walked into the short hallway and up the stairs to a common area, following the sound of voices egging each other and laughing. What she saw was anything but common. It looked like a large, open concept luxury penthouse that was separated in the center by a black spiral staircase. Towards the back of the boat, a massive, perfectly white braided jute rug sectioned off the main seating area, where an l-shaped sofa the color of morning fog was anchored along the far wall, under a bay of large, anthracite framed windows. Two stone gray egg chairs that swiveled slightly with the movement of the waves were positioned across from the sofa, and a wide flat concrete slab coffee table sat between them. Opposite the seating area, a dining table made of the same material as the coffee table was set for eight. Windows across the entire ceiling opened the seating area to the purple and pink sky; now Marina could tell it was sunset. She'd slept all day.

On the other side of the spiral staircase, there was a bar with four low backed stools, and behind the bar opened up to a kitchen with white marble counter tops, and an electric stove, and sleek black lower cabinets except on the very far wall where there was a fridge and a prep counter. There, in the corner of the kitchen, Jazzy leaned casually, one elbow braced on the white marble, the other hand holding her phone up high trying to catch a signal.

She caught Marina's outline through the open space under her arm.

"You're alive!" Her eyes lit up and she sang her next question. "How was your night?" She threw Marina a sly grin.

Usually, Marina admired Jazzy's sangfroid, but this was very, very different.

"Jazz, what the fuck." She could feel her face heating, anger taking over whatever relief she had just felt for finding her best friend - alive. "Do you know where we're going? We're on a boat with literal strangers-"

"Yacht." Jazzy interrupted her, eyebrows punched together. "I think."

"I don't fucking care what type of boat this is, Jazz! We're in the middle of the ocean, heading to an unknown location, and we don't know these people. For all we know they could be murderers, or drug dealers, or fucking..." she knew it would sound ridiculous before she got the word out, "pirates!"

She could feel the tears coming back, a hurricane of emotions flooding, overwhelming her system. She was not the kind of person who wakes up on a boat in the middle of the ocean after a night she barely remembered. Who did she wake up with? Did they have sex? Were they careful? She was always careful. She always kept her valuables tucked away, she rarely took risks... except... except when Jazzy was involved. The bitterness and regret over her own actions shifted to daggers of irritation at her friend. No - her best friend - who was supposed to have her best interests in mind.

"You're literally going to be listed on my gravestone as my cause of death, Jazz," Marina scowled at her.

Jazzy's shoulder shook, her lips clamped shut to prevent her laughter. Her head tilted in simulated pity. "Mari, come on." She skipped up to her friend and wove her arm under Marina's elbow, firmly turning her around towards the back of the boat and the sounds of the voices Marina had heard earlier. "I can tell you're freaking out, but look... If they wanted to kill us," she exaggerated the word to emphasize just how ridiculous the theory was, "they would have done it already. Did you think about that? Neither of us are of any value, either - no one would pay insane ransoms to get us back. So they're probably not pirates, or... terrorists, or any of that crazy shit, either." Marina frowned, and Jazzy mimicked her, then turned her lips upward. "They're honestly just a bunch of rich dudes who thought we were hot. Come on, Mari. I'll re-introduce you."

Marina hesitated, not wanting to come face to face with any of them, but Jazzy gave her that look - the one that told Marina she wasn't going to wash away her moral injury by wallowing in her guilt.

"Also," Jazzy added, pressing, "they're not strangers, because we just spent all night with them." That sly grin curved her lips again. Marina growled at her friend, but gave in. Realization settled on her; if she wanted to get home she'd have to get off the boat. And to get off the boat, she'd have to convince these people to let her off. Immediately.

The rear deck of the boat - yacht, Marina corrected herself - was just as posh as the interior. Immediately outside of the sliding doors was a low seating area lined with plush sofas. Three, under-lit steps led up to the next wide, long deck with more sofas and soft white LED lights illuminating all of the curves and architectural features. Three men and another woman were arranged across the sofas, talking and laughing, and as the two friends approached the woman rose to greet them.

"Hola!" She drew out the end of the word as though she was astounded that they were standing, "Como se sienten?" Marina suddenly felt as though she was in the presence of power. The woman had an aura of supremacy, as though she knew she was truly better than everyone around her.

Jazzy responded, "Hola, Irma," eyeing Marina to make sure she started tracking names... and to not make a scene. But why... "We're good, Rainey here just had to sleep off the tequila." Ah. Fake names. It was a condition Marina had given Jazzy any time she agreed to go along with one of her friend's schemes for a good time - Marina was never going to use her real name. She didn't want people looking her up and ruining her reputation online. She let the softest sigh of relief escape, and mentally shot Jazzy a thank you she knew her friend could feel.

Irma eyed Marina with a faint air of disdain, then pulled her face into a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Well, it was kind of you to join us last night. I hope you found your accommodations... comfortable." The look she gave Marina made her stomach pinch with a new wave of nausea. So something did happen last night. Suddenly she couldn't wait to take a shower.

Irma continued, ignoring whatever emotions flashed across Marina's face. "We're a few hours from Havana. We'll be stopping there for the night before continuing to Bahamas." She cocked her head. "Since you are Americans... you'll have to stay on the yacht."