They Left Me To Die So I Let The Ocean Have Them

After graduation, the whole family went on a trip to the coast.

My sister, having forgotten her favorite bikini, demanded I make the two-hour drive back home to get it.

When I refused, my father slapped me so hard my lip split.

My mother blamed me for not reminding my sister, insisting I had to be the one to go back.

Humiliated and heartbroken, I broke down sobbing. My parents, calling me a disgrace, locked me in the vacation condo to "think about what I'd done."

When the three-hundred-foot tsunami came, I had no way to escape. I was swallowed alive by the wave.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that moment, with my sister demanding I go home and get her bikini.

I nodded meekly. "Of course. I'll go get it. You guys have fun at the beach."

1

"Sadie, are you listening? Get in the car and go get my bikini. The blue one. I need it if I'm going to get in the water!"

The familiar, imperious voice snapped me back to reality. A tremor went through my entire body. I stared, breathless, at my sister, Brooke.

She was tearing through her suitcase, frustration etched on her perfect face. She couldn't find the designer bikini she’d bought specifically for this trip. My parents were fluttering around her, trying to help, their words a useless balm. They urged me to just go, to make the drive before Brooke started to cry.

This was…

My head whipped around to look at the window, at the calm, sapphire-blue ocean. A sharp, phantom pain prickled my skin. It became hard to breathe, as if a giant hand were squeezing my lungs shut.

Down below, on the street, a little girl on her father's shoulders was squealing with delight. "The ocean is so pretty, Daddy!"

It was all too familiar. Frighteningly familiar.

I was back. I had been reborn into the first day of our family vacation.

Reborn four hours before a three-hundred-foot tsunami would obliterate everything.

We had only been in the condo for ten minutes when Brooke started her tantrum about the bikini. I get carsick. I’d already thrown up twice on the way here. The thought of another four hours in a car, alone, was a special kind of hell.

In my first life, I had refused. I told them I felt sick, that we could just buy her a new one at any of the countless shops lining the boardwalk. After all, the swimsuit they’d bought for me was a twenty-dollar afterthought from a roadside stand.

My refusal was met with a barrage of parental fury.

"Do you have any idea what the material in those cheap suits could do to your sister's skin? What if she has an allergic reaction?"

"You're the older sister, Sadie. Is it so hard for you to help her out for once? I swear, you're just selfish, always in a rush to have your own fun. You're eighteen years old, act like it!"

The usual lecture. The usual comparisons.

Brooke was bubbly and adored; I was quiet and withdrawn.

Brooke could talk her way into anything; I was silent and sullen.

I could only stand there, my jaw tight, saying nothing.

"Look at you with that dead-fish expression," my father had sneered. "No wonder you only got into community college.

"Your sister is going to Duke. She has a real future. And you? What's the point of you? Running an errand is the most useful thing you can do, and you can't even do that without complaining!"

My silence always enraged my father. His words grew sharper, more venomous.

He had conveniently forgotten why I was only going to community college.

Or maybe he hadn't forgotten. Maybe he just didn't care that he'd ended up in the hospital from a drinking binge the week before my SATs. My mother and Brooke had both claimed they were too exhausted to deal with him, so I was the one who spent my nights in a hospital chair instead of studying.

Running on no sleep, I bombed the exams. My family refused to even consider letting me retake them or apply again next year. They wanted me in a two-year program, out, and earning money as soon as possible.

They all remembered. They just thought it was perfectly reasonable. As long as Brooke got into a good school, that's all that mattered.

As long as Brooke was happy.

When Brooke wanted a beach vacation after graduation, my parents booked it instantly. I was just lucky enough to be brought along. The first real vacation they’d ever taken me on in my nineteen years of life.

Of course, I was the one who had to carry almost all the luggage up three flights of stairs. And now, I was supposed to drive two hours back to get a bikini.

2

"Sadie, are you deaf? I told you to go get my bikini!" Brooke's voice turned shrill, slicing through my daze.

I pulled back from the window, a cold dread washing over me. The peaceful, sun-drenched ocean outside might as well have been a monster baring its teeth.

Who could possibly imagine that in four hours, a terrifying wave would surge from the deep and destroy everything in its path?

"Sadie, this is your fault for not reminding her. You know how she gets. Now go!" my mother snapped, glaring at me.

I took a deep breath, trying to push away the paralyzing fear of the wave. I looked at my mother. Why would I remind her? I didn't know she'd forget. And why is it my job to remember for her?

The last time, I had dared to ask that question out loud. In response, my father had lunged, the back of his hand catching my mouth. The blow sent me sprawling to the floor. "When I tell you to do something, you do it! Can't you see your sister is upset?" he had roared, ignoring the blood trickling from my lip.

That slap had shattered me.

For nineteen years, I had tried to understand what I had done wrong, why my own family treated me with such disdain. The injustice of it all finally broke me, and I started to wail, a raw, hysterical sound that I couldn't control, sobbing until I nearly passed out.

This only annoyed Brooke more. She stormed out of the condo, shouting that she was going to the beach and I had better have her bikini ready when she got back. They were staying for three days; if she couldn't wear it today, she would wear it tomorrow.

My parents, looking disgusted, kicked me a few times for good measure before locking me in the room.

"Crying won't solve anything," they'd spat. "You stay in here and think about your attitude. You can come out when you're ready to go get the damn swimsuit."

Then they left, the sound of the lock clicking shut echoing in the silent room.

As if I were a piece of luggage to be left behind.

I had huddled on the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees, my body shaking with silent, soul-crushing sobs.

Hours later, as dusk began to fall, the calm ocean suddenly churned. The tide pulled back with an unnatural speed, and then, the water began to boil. By the time I realized what was happening, a colossal, three-hundred-foot wave was charging toward the shore like an avenging god.

I screamed, throwing myself at the door, twisting the locked knob until my skin was raw. It wouldn't budge. I ran to the window, shouting for help, just in time to see my parents dragging Brooke to the car.

They glanced up. I know they did. We were only on the third floor. They saw me.

But they didn't hesitate. They jumped in the car and sped away without a backward glance, disappearing in seconds.

I died in a tsunami that felt like the end of the world.

3

"Sadie, are you mute? I'm asking you one last time. Are you going to get my bikini or not?"

This was Brooke’s third demand. She was officially furious, her face flushed and blotchy.

Because I hadn't said a word.

My father was already moving toward me, his hand raised to strike. The scene was about to repeat itself. I would be beaten, locked up, and left to die.

I quickly sidestepped, forcing a smile onto my face. "Brooke, don't be mad. This trip is all about you. I'll do whatever you want."

I turned to my father. "Dad, while I'm home, should I grab that bottle of Maker's Mark you like? You could have some with dinner tonight."

My father’s hand froze mid-air. The anger on his face lessened. "That's more like it. Go on, then. Four hours round trip. You'll be back before dark, plenty of time to have some fun." He lowered his arm and turned to Brooke. "Don't you worry, sweetie. Dad will take you out on the jet skis."

"I want to go on the helicopter tour, too. For pictures," Brooke demanded.

I knew about the helicopter tour. Eight hundred dollars for ten minutes. If I had ever asked for something like that, my father would have kicked me out of the room.

But for Brooke, he agreed instantly.

My mother beamed, giving Brooke a thumbs-up. "Look at you, so brave! A helicopter ride!"

Brooke shot me a triumphant, smug glance. She was showing off, flaunting the love that was reserved only for her.

The only thing I had ever received was a slap or a shove.

A familiar pang of pain twisted in my chest, but it was quickly replaced by an icy numbness. A person who has already died once has no time to mourn the love they never had.

"Mom, Dad, Brooke, you guys have a great time at the beach. I'm leaving now to get the swimsuit."

I turned and walked away, the picture of obedience.

They were satisfied. They would wait for me, expecting me to return in four hours.

But they didn't know that in four hours, the tide would recede with a horrifying silence, only to return with the force of a thousand storms.

Maybe it was an undersea earthquake, or a volcanic eruption. Whatever the cause, an unprecedented tsunami was about to descend upon this entire resort town. I remembered it clearly. The wave was taller than our hotel building. At least three hundred feet.

A wave that high was almost unheard of in human history. The 2004 Indonesian tsunami that shocked the world, devastating 14 countries and leaving over 270,000 dead or missing, had a maximum height of just over 150 feet.

Of course, terrain and elevation play a huge role. But this wave… this wave was three hundred feet tall. Even if our town, Seabrook, was situated on higher ground, with hills and forests to break the impact…

I couldn't let myself think about it. The image of the apocalypse was already burned into my mind. I had to hurry. Four hours. How was I going to survive?

4

I had seen the tsunami with my own eyes. I knew what that monstrous wall of water was capable of. I had to assume the worst-case scenario: that the entire city of Seabrook and the neighboring coastal towns would be wiped out.

Ideally, I would get on a plane and fly a thousand miles away. But there wasn't time. It would be a miracle if I could even get out of Seabrook itself. It was the day after high school graduation; the roads were choked with tourists. We’d been stuck in traffic for half the drive here. Driving back to my house in two hours was a fantasy.

So, escape wasn't the answer. I had to think about immediate shelter.

A high-rise building? I dismissed the thought instantly. In the face of that apocalyptic wave, any man-made structure was a joke. The tallest skyscraper would crumble like a sandcastle.

No, the shelter had to be solid. It had to be high.

A mountain.

On the east side of Seabrook was Shepherd's Peak State Park. Its highest point was over four thousand feet above sea level. It had well-maintained infrastructure, and at the summit, there was an old stone lodge that could serve as a shelter. I’d volunteered there once for a park cleanup day; I knew the layout.

Better yet, it was only a forty-minute drive from here, and I could take the highway.

It was 2:00 PM now. If I could get to the base of Shepherd’s Peak, I’d still have time to stock up on supplies and get to the top. There was enough time.

That was the plan.

As I walked out of the condo complex, I saw a maintenance worker passing by, carrying a large tool bag. A box of roofing nails was visible inside.

I stopped him. Ten dollars later, I had a pocketful of nails.

I walked to the ground-level parking lot and found our family's SUV. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I scattered the nails on the ground behind all four tires, points facing up.

The second the car moved, the tires would be shredded.

I imagined my family frantically trying to escape, the hiss of the tires deflating. The image was almost beautiful.

I dusted off my hands and hurried away. Time was wasting. I had to get to Shepherd's Peak, get supplies, and get up that mountain.

5

The Uber I called sped along the highway. I had hoped it would be clearer than the local roads, but it was still bumper-to-bumper in places. A drive that should have taken forty minutes dragged on for an hour and a half.

Panic clawed at my throat. I could only pray for the traffic to move faster, just a little faster.

Finally, we got off the highway. From here, it was only five minutes to the park entrance. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. It was 3:35 PM. The tsunami would hit around 6:00 PM. I had two and a half hours.

I didn't need much. Just enough food and water for a week. A tsunami, for all its destructive power, is fast. Once the initial surge passed, I just had to wait for the national guard and rescue teams. It wasn't ideal—if I had more time and help, I’d stockpile for a month—but I was alone. Carrying a week's worth of supplies up a mountain was the absolute limit of my strength.

As the car passed a small residential area, I had the driver pull over. I ran into the local grocery store. I filled a backpack with high-energy, low-volume foods: canned goods, beef jerky, protein bars. Then, I grabbed two reusable shopping bags and loaded them with self-heating meals, dried fruit, and nuts. The last stop was a pharmacy for a basic first-aid kit: ibuprofen, antibiotics, band-aids.

By the time I was done, the backpack was a dead weight on my shoulders and the bags were cutting into my hands. My back ached. But this was enough to last me a while if I was careful. The most important thing was water, but it was too heavy. I only bought three bottles. I remembered there was a natural spring-fed waterfall near the summit of Shepherd's Peak. I wouldn't be without water.

I checked my supplies one last time, called another Uber, and gave the driver the address for the park.

It was now 4:36 PM. One hour and twenty-four minutes until the tsunami.

My phone rang. It was Brooke.

I answered. She didn’t even say hello. "Are you home yet? I need you to bring my white sun hat, too. If you've already left, turn around and go back. I have to have that hat."

6

Listening to Brooke's commanding tone, I couldn't help but laugh. It was a bitter, exhausted laugh.

For my entire life, she had treated me like a servant. I was so used to it, so conditioned to cater to her every whim, to placate her, to do anything to avoid her anger and the punishment that would follow. If I hadn't already died once, her voice would still fill me with a familiar dread.

But Brooke couldn't scare me anymore.

Still, I didn't argue. Not yet. There was still over an hour until the wave. If I provoked her now, knowing her temper, she might throw a fit, decide she didn't want to be at the beach anymore, and start heading home to confront me. That would give my family a much better chance of survival.

"Okay, Brooke. I'll turn around and get your hat. It might just take me a little longer to get back to the beach," I said, my voice dripping with false compliance.

I could hear her sneer through the phone. "I love how pathetic you sound. Keep it up."

In the background, my mother's voice chimed in. "Sadie, since you're making another trip anyway, you might as well bring my makeup bag. I was going to bring it but it was too much of a hassle."

A cold smile touched my lips. "Of course, Mom. I'll get it. See you soon."

"That's a good girl," my father added. "See? When you're not difficult, everyone's happy." It was the closest thing to praise I’d heard from him in years.

I hung up the phone. The car pulled up to Shepherd's Peak State Park. I didn't have the driver drop me at the main entrance, but at a service gate on the west side. It led to an employee access trail. I remembered it from my volunteer days.

I looked up at the towering peak, a profound sense of safety washing over me. There was no safer place in the world right now.

I took a deep breath and started up the trail with my supplies.

The ranger in the gatehouse was napping, oblivious. The heat was oppressive, easily over 90 degrees. Only a fool would be hiking in the middle of the afternoon. As a result, the trail was completely deserted. There were probably other tourists in the park, but they'd be on the main trails, near the visitor center.

I was panting, my lungs burning. I had to stop every twenty feet. My vision started to swim. Finally, dizzy and exhausted, I reached the halfway point. There was a large plaza here and a station for the cable car that ran to the summit.

The plaza was empty, but the cable car was running. I got in, wiping sweat from my forehead, and checked the time on my phone.

5:26 PM. Thirty-four minutes until the tsunami.

The sun was still beating down. There was no wind. No sign at all of the impending doom. But my heart was starting to pound, the memory of that apocalyptic day wrapping around me like a shroud. I closed my eyes and breathed deep, feeling the small breeze created by the moving cable car. I could almost smell it—a strange, metallic tang in the air. The wave was already forming, out in the deep ocean, still miles away.

At 5:47 PM, the cable car reached the summit.

Before me stood the old stone lodge, its slate roof shimmering in the heat. It was just as deserted as the trail had been. I didn't waste time looking for anyone else. I found a small, unused chapel off the main hall and slipped inside. It was dedicated to some forgotten local saint. I remembered dusting the pews during my volunteer work.

I offered a silent nod to the statue, then sat down heavily on a bench. My head was spinning, my limbs felt like lead. The climb, the heat, the stress—it had all taken its toll.

But I was here. I was safe. I was in a stone building, four thousand feet above sea level.

It was 5:52 PM.

Eight minutes to go.

I twisted the cap off a bottle of water and began to chug it. My phone rang again. It was Brooke.

7

The moment I answered, she started screaming. "Did you lose a leg? What is taking so long? I want to wear my bikini and my hat and take pictures in the ocean! I'm dying of boredom here!"

My parents were in the background, their voices adding to the chorus. "The sun is about to set! We want to get pictures of Brooke in the golden hour! Get back here now!"

A cold, sharp smile spread across my face.

The sunset? Pictures?

In a few minutes, you're all going to be dead.

All my caution vanished, replaced by a liberating rush of adrenaline. "I'm not coming back to the beach," I said, my voice calm. "I'm at home, enjoying the air conditioning."

"What?" Brooke was stunned into silence for a second, before erupting. "Sadie, are you messing with me? If you're not coming back, who's going to bring me my bikini and my hat?"

"Are you disabled? Do you need me to do everything for you? You're eighteen years old, but you have the brain of a spoiled toddler."

"What?" Brooke sounded genuinely confused. The line went quiet. I could practically hear the gears grinding in her head. Then, a roar of pure fury. "Sadie, what did you just say? Did you call me disabled? Did you say I have the brain of a toddler?"

Her shriek brought my parents into the conversation. My father snatched the phone, his voice a low growl. "Sadie. You dare talk to your sister like that? Have you lost your mind?"

My mother's voice, shrill and panicked, joined in. "Sadie, what did you say about your sister? Say it again! I dare you!"

"Your sister is a spoiled, helpless child. A spoiled, helpless child. A spoiled, helpless child..."

I repeated it, over and over.

"You… you… Sadie!" My mother was hysterical. The precious angel she had coddled for eighteen years had never been criticized, let alone by the family slave.

My father bellowed, "Sadie, you just wait. I'm going to come home and I'm going to chop you into pieces and feed you to the dogs!"

Click. I hung up. I wasn't going to listen to any more of that.

I waited for the final three minutes to pass.

5:57 PM.

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