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When Bonnie was only three years old, she grabbed the two goldfish her grandparents had gifted her for Christmas, and cut off both their heads with a pair of pink scissors.

Upon being questioned about her actions years later, Bonnie hadn’t a hint of hesitation in her voice as she tilted her head, then stared into her mother’s eyes—ocean blue, like Bonnie’s own. “I wanted to set them free, Mama. You’ve always told me caging living beings was a cruel thing.”

That was the last her mother ever spoke of the incident. As for Bonnie’s father—who was never quite a homebody, and more a man who belonged to the ocean—he wasn’t ever told about how exactly it was those fish disappeared. Only, he noticed one day, that they were nowhere to be found. And as the good father that he wanted himself to be, he made sure to omit bringing up the topic, in order to avoid upsetting what he thought was his grieving daughter at the time. Bonnie knew this, for she had overheard him speaking with her mother.

Now, fifteen years had elapsed ever since the incident occurred. Bonnie had joined her father and his crew on his boat. Their objective was a short excursion, their task being merely checking in and observing the marine life nearby.

Bonnie’s mission, was much simpler: finding out whether she was the type to get seasick or not, and skipping her graduation day at school. She was on the edge of the boat, looking out to sea, when someone ruffled her hair with a chuckle. “Everything all right, watersprout?” her father asked.

Watersprout—the nickname had evolved from the waterspout phenomenon; Bonnie’s father had come up with it after witnessing what he deemed was his daughter’s unpredictable personality throughout the years. Bonnie did not know what to make of the title. Deep down, she thought it was quite silly. But she indulged him. After all, he and his boat were the way out Bonnie had always dreamed of—the ticket away from her ever-neurotic mother.

It wasn’t always this way. The young woman could remember her earliest memories—the ones before the goldfish—which were full of cheer and love in her household. Bonnie’s mother would always hold her tightly before putting Bonnie to bed, and she would take extra care to check all of the heaters in order to make sure they were the right temperature at night, too.

But, something broke inside her parent: especially once Bonnie had given her a reason for her supposed, childhood crime. After that, Bonnie’s mother grew distant, paranoid and cold. She was rarely home, and Bonnie could not remember the last time she was held, or coddled. She was taken out of preschool, then thrown into daycare; launched into her first years of school, that then blended into afternoons spent with nannies, and the final years of her most underwhelming and disappointing high school experience.

Honestly, when Bonnie thought of her mother, it was hard for her to even recall what the woman looked like.

“Watersprout?” her father let out a rather forced laughed injected with worry, and Bonnie figured it was about time for her to reply. “You still with me, kiddo?”

“Yeah.” Bonnie stared out to the waves that lapped at the bottom of the boat below. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I am.” She could not say why it was, that the water fascinated her so. It had always been this way. Even in her bathtub back home, she found entertainment in swishing the liquid back-and-forth with repeated swipes of her hand, until little whirlpools formed, then dissipated again.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A door slammed opened from behind them; the ship’s crewmates ceased to gossip about sightings of a giant, prehistoric underwater creature, as they called out to the both of them, announcing that dinner was ready for tonight.

Bonnie sighed as her father motioned for her to follow him inside. “I’ll be right there,” she told the man, who—in her eyes—was her only remaining parent left. “I’m not that hungry.”

Her father raised a brow, then shoved his hands into his pockets. He said, “All right, but don’t take too long now.” With his head, he motioned to the world around them, whilst he stared out at the sea. “It’s getting dark out. You don’t want to fall overboard.”

Bonnie only nodded at his statement. And, soon after, her father left her with a silent parting and a pat on the shoulder.

It was true, the young woman thought, that the current weather was not ideal. She had only been travelling with the crew for the past two days, yet, she had never seen the sky wilt into the depressed color of coal—a reminder of when she had accidentally charred her hands black, when trying to light a fire last Christmas, during a night out camping with friends and runaways alike. Bonnie couldn’t say, which category she had belonged to back then—only, that it was lonely, being surrounded by all those people who seemed to care for a holiday that only brought people together, only to pull them apart again. What was the point, if they were going to bid each other farewell, in the end?

Wasn’t it better, to never have a Christmas at all, then? she had wanted to ask her friends.

The horizon roared with a deadly thunder as lightning struck God’s Home. Bonnie stared up at the clouds with parted lips, as the wind picked up her hat and shoved it into the ocean. She squinted. It was hard to make out the shapes of her environment anymore, with how her hair had begun whipping into her eyes. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath.

Her father had warned her of the weather, certainly, yes—however, Bonnie hadn’t a clue this would’ve or could happen so fast. The young woman held onto the railing that hugged the boat like a walnut’s shell. She shouted—words that were incomprehensible, yet enough, to bring out the crew from the comfortable interior of the ship’s guts. “Bonnie!” her father yelled, and Bonnie tried to step forward with a single, trembling foot.

She slipped.

Her eyes went wide—not with terror, but surprise. At how calm she felt throughout this whole ordeal.

Time slowed. Bonnie’s eyes followed her father and his crewmates. They were gesturing for her to get away. To run back indoors.

The young girl found herself laughing. How could she run, when she had already fallen like this?

“Ridiculous,” Bonnie muttered under her breath. Her dark, soaked bangs came to cover her eyes. She grabbed hold of the railing, which prevented her from falling, as she now dangled from the side of the boat. Ridiculous, Bonnie thought.

How ridiculous it all was.

Was she going to die here? After finally being freed from the burden of monotony?

Her father grabbed her hand, as a crewmember grabbed his arm; they both pulled Bonnie upward, and away from the water.

The young woman did not go overboard: yet, her heart sank at the sight of a whirlpool that was forming right beneath the ship.

“Everyone below deck!” the ship’s captain screamed until his throat sounded hoarse, he begged for them all to come back inside to safety—or, at least, the illusion of it—but Bonnie didn’t move.

Her gaze was transfixed on the catastrophe lurking below: not on the water that was spinning, but on a large, enormous shadow which rose from the depths of the ocean. A shadow she quickly noticed, after blinking a few times to eliminate the dazed blur in her vision. “This is it,” Bonnie let out the words without even realizing: a whisper, and one last goodbye.

Her father was never the way out. Bonnie had been wrong all along. This—this was it, the door to another life: But what kind?

Only time would tell.

A smile took Bonnie’s lips.

She ran to the railing and jumped overboard, past the crew’s screams of terror, the young woman landed inside the sea, right atop the whirlpool’s middle.

Bonnie took a deep breath, and one final look at the world as she knew it, before the water dragged her down.

Down.

Down.