Chapter three: The boy who didn't listen.

*:･°✧* 𓆝 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝 ˚｡⋆ 𓇼𓆟 *✧*:･°

The small fishing boat rocked gently against the waves as Wayne stared at the great blue ocean stretching endlessly before him. Its blue surface glittered beneath the sun, turning the waves into thousands of tiny shards of glass. He had seen the ocean before, but never like this. Usually, there were yachts. Beach clubs. Crowds and music blaring in the background. Out here, there was none of that. Just the creak of the boat, the slap of water, and a quiet so big it made him want to fill it with something.

It was beautiful. But its beauty alone wasn’t enough to make him forget the empty bucket beside him. They had left the main boat because the other workers didn’t want them obstructing their job at sea. Since then, he hadn’t caught a single fish, and Nessa was already six fish ahead of him. 

He clicked his tongue at the rod in his hands. “The fish hate me.”

“Maybe they know you don’t belong here.”

Wayne scoffed. “Or maybe they are just scared of my greatness.”

“You sure are great at complaining.” She rolled her eyes, dropping another fish into her bucket.

Wayne watched her carefully, the flick of her wrist, the way she waited instead of fighting the line, before trying to copy her. After a few attempts he caught one. Then another, and another. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

“Don’t get too excited, pretty boy. The sun’s going down. We’ve got to go.”

Wayne’s head snapped towards her. “Go back? I don’t think so. And risk you winning the bet. No way.”

“It’s time to go back, Wayne. You were going to lose anyway.”

“That was before I learned how to fish properly.”

“The sun is going down. So we go back.”

“You’re scared I’ll beat you.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Then prove it.”

Her jaw tightened. “Thirty minutes,” she finally said. “Then we’re going, whether you’ve caught another fish or not.”

Time passed and Wayne was finally beginning to enjoy himself. His bucket was filling up, slowly catching up with Nessa’s. For a few minutes, he forgot about the cabin, his grandmother who had sent him away and even the bet. There was only the line, the pull, the small thrill of doing something with his own hands.

He reached for the rod again, but Nessa was already packing up. “Let’s go.”

“Already? I still need a few more.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon. The wind had changed. It pushed against their skin, sharp and cold. The waves that gently rocked their boat were beginning to rise and fall with more force.

“Pack up. Now.”

Wayne opened his mouth to argue. Then he saw her hands tightening on the oar, and he closed it. For once, he did as he was told. They paddled back to the main boat. But by the time they reached, the sky had darkened.

“Where have you guys been?” one of the men asked.

“We don’t have time to explain. Come help us.”

They rushed forward, helping them unload the fish before hauling the smaller boat closer to the main vessel. One of the men secured a towline from the small boat to a metal cleat at the stern of the main vessel. The first raindrop struck Wayne’s cheek. Moments later, the rain began to pour. He watched the men secure the boat tightly, but why did the towline look loose?

“Wayne. Get in, now,” Nessa yelled from the pilothouse.

“Okay. I’m coming.” But his eyes never left the towline.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” he asked one of the boatmen.

“Just leave it. It’s fine.”

But he couldn’t. If anyone on the boat was going to be careless, it wasn’t going to be him. Not today. As the storm grew stronger, Nessa steered through gritted teeth, but they were still nowhere near the port. “Hold on to something.” 

Through the window, Wayne saw the smaller boat shift behind them. The slack line jerked, then sagged again. Every part of him said sit down. He didn’t. He ran onto the deck as the wind shoved him left and right.

“Wayne, are you trying to get yourself killed?” Nessa yelled but he didn’t listen.

Despite the rain blurring his vision, he made his way to the aft deck, where the smaller boat was secured. He grabbed the towline. He was right. It was slack.

Nessa handed the controls to one of the men and tried to follow Wayne to the deck, but the boat was too unsteady beneath her feet. “Wayne. Come back.”

“Let me tie this up real quick,” he finally called back.

He pulled the towline closer and tried to secure it to the metal cleat. His fingers were numb and the rope was slick. Before he could fasten it, a powerful wave slammed into the side of the main boat. His grip slipped and the wave lifted the smaller boat behind him. The towline snapped tight, lurching the smaller boat sideways. Wayne turned at the sound, but he was too late as the side of the boat struck him against the head. Pain exploded through his skull, and for a split second, he felt something warm trickle down his face. He lost his balance and fell overboard as the sea swallowed him.

Cold. That was the first thing he felt. His clothes dragged against his body as he kicked, desperately trying to find the surface. He broke through for half a second, caught a glimpse of the boat’s lights and Nessa screaming his name, and then a wave pushed him back under. He had always loved the view of the ocean. But now submerged beneath the sea, his body refused to cooperate. He tried moving his hands but his movements were clumsy and useless.

And then the realization struck him harder with every frantic movement. He couldn’t swim. If only he had taken the swimming lessons his grandmother had insisted on. He clawed at the water, his lungs aching, the surface sliding farther away. This couldn’t be happening. Not over a stupid bet. Not over a rope.

Was this it? Was he really going to die in this place?

The thought of never seeing his grandmother frightened him. But another thought slid in beside it, quiet and tired. At least he could finally be with his parents. Wayne finally stopped struggling. The cries of his name gradually became distant. He shut his eyes, letting the cold fully sink in.

Then he didn’t feel cold anymore. That’s when he heard a song. Soft, wordless, and it was beautiful. Did death have its own encore?

Wayne opened his eyes, but it was dark. Through the darkness, he caught a vague flash of his blood floating around him, followed by a distant figure swimming rapidly towards him. It moved too fast for him to make out what it was. Startled, he jerked backwards and inhaled the water.

His lungs burned as a hand caught his wrist. Then he saw her. Long hair surrounded her face, her skin shimmered with an unnatural glow, almost blending into the water around her. And her eyes, crystal-blue, stared directly into his, wide and urgent, like she had just made a decision she wasn’t sure she was allowed to make.

Was she an angel? Was he dead?  Was this heaven? 

The thought drifted through his head, slow and strange. Then his gaze dropped. A long massive tail moved beneath her, powerful as they carried her through the water. His eyes widened, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.

No…it couldn’t be. She was… a mermaid? No, mermaids weren’t real. People saw things when they were nearing their death. His brain was already running out of air and making things up, that was all. He refused to believe it. Not even now. He pushed her away, but her grip on his body was firm and he was too weak.

She cupped his face in her hands, and they were warm. She held him gently, almost carefully, as if she were afraid he would break. She looked at him for one long second, and something in her expression was certain. For some reason, he couldn’t look away.

Then her lips pressed against his, and warmth rushed into his chest, air where there had been none. Wayne’s eyes fluttered. The last thing he saw was her eyes shut tight as she pushed air into his lungs. Then everything went black.