The Family Holiday

My family left me stranded somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

I think it was by accident.

They’ll come back for me.

At least, I hope so.

We were on our annual family vacation, and this year my parents planned a beach holiday.

I hate the beach. There’s too much sand—it gets everywhere, and I don’t enjoy sizzling like a piece of bacon under the sweltering sun. My skin is much too fair to be exposed to that amount of UV rays, plus I can’t stand being covered head to toe in sticky sunscreen that doesn’t even work. And worst of all, my already unruly hair ends up a tangled, matted disaster from the combination of salt and humidity.

I’m usually all for our family adventures, and we’ve had many of them. From safaris in Africa to hiking glaciers in Iceland, I’ve got more stamps in my passport at the tender age of sixteen than the average adult will have in a lifetime.

But when they announced an all-inclusive trip to a fancy resort on the tropical island of Mauritius, I was less than thrilled. I’d never even heard of Mauritius, and when my father pointed to what I thought was a speck of dust on the map somewhere next to Madagascar, I thought it was a joke.

My parents thought they could entice me with promises of boat trips and swimming with dolphins and turtles, even though it's well known that I’m not a strong swimmer and don’t trust anything that can’t survive on land.

Obviously, my sister Annie was delighted and spent months planning her outfits and getting “beach body ready.” Easy for her, she comes out of the sun with a goddess-like glow, not looking like a fried tomato like I do.

When I complained and tried to persuade them to take us somewhere else, preferably north of the equator, Annie got mad and accused me of being a Debbie Downer. She will never understand what it’s like to be Wednesday Addams when she’s the embodiment of Marcia from the Brady Bunch.

If I had known that I’d end up forgotten and alone, I would have fought harder, dug my heels in. If only I had known, I would have refused to go.

It’s too late for that now.

I don’t know how long I’ve been stranded here—hours, days maybe? Time seems to have warped and lost all meaning.

My throat is dry, and my chapped lips taste like salt. I’ve been sleeping a lot, yet I’m still exhausted and lethargic. I want to open my eyes, but my eyelids are too heavy. So I listen to the waves as they gently caress the shoreline, their sound echoing in my ears and lulling me further into sleep.

I don’t exactly know what happened; my memory is hazy and fragmented.

I remember being on a boat, sitting at the front and staring at the horizon, fighting off seasickness, when someone—maybe Annie—yelled something. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of fins. Dolphins! They surrounded the boat, swimming alongside it and leaping from the water right in front of us. If I had reached out my hand, I could have touched their slick, wet bodies. Annie and I were mesmerised, we’d never seen dolphins that close before. We giggled and squealed like little children again, and for a moment, I forgot all about my seasickness.

We got off onto a small island off the mainland, where the water was the brightest turquoise and with the whitest sand I’d ever seen. Mom, Dad and Annie went snorkelling while I collected shells along the shore.

Maybe I wandered too far, and they got back on the boat without me. Surely they would have noticed that I was missing. My parents have not always been the most responsible people, but even they could never be careless enough to forget their own child.

Something doesn’t feel quite right. I’m so cold, like someone switched off the sun. And the sound of the waves has been replaced by a ringing in my ears.

Except it’s not actually ringing, it’s screaming. Hair-raising, blood-curdling screams. I force my eyes open even though it takes all my strength. Everything looks blurry, but I can make out two figures ahead of me on the horizon. They’re coming towards me.

Am I dreaming? Maybe I’m hallucinating.

I want to raise my arms so I can wave them down, make sure they see me, but I can’t move my arms.

Why can’t I move my arms?

The figures get closer, and I can just about make out their form. They’re dressed all in white, and they’re talking to me, though I can’t understand what they’re saying.

I try to speak, but no words come out. A sharp pain stings my arm, and my eyes feel heavy again. I try to fight it, but I can’t.

“The doctor said better to keep her sedated for now, poor dear, she’s been through so much.” Nurse Linda spoke softly as she carefully removed the needle from her patient’s arm and watched as she dozed off again. “The doctors have tried to tell her what happened, but she still keeps calling out for them. It’s heartbreaking.”

“She’s in shock,” Nurse Debbie said, shaking her head.

“Such a tragedy.”

“Do you know how it happened?” Debbie asked.

“Some sort of snorkelling accident. From what I gathered, her mom and sister got caught in the current, so her dad tried to swim out to rescue them, but got dragged out too. Before anyone could do anything, it was too late; they had drowned, all three of them. She was the only one who hadn’t got in the water.” Linda nodded towards her young patient.

“I can’t imagine being sixteen and losing your entire family all at once. Her life will never be the same.”

“Yes,” Linda said with a heavy sigh. “So rather let her sleep, hopefully her dreams are kinder.”

They stood in silence, both dreading the moment she would have to wake up and face her nightmare.