Kerrie Fan and Neil Hanson sat across from each other in the dining hall, but it felt like they were miles apart. It was noon and Neil had already consumed six piña coladas. He sat slouched and his stomach bulged, attempting to escape from his polo shirt. His swim trunks were "vomit green," as Kerrie described it. Neil sat with his elbows on the table and gnawed on a chicken leg.

"Do you have to chew with your mouth open?" Kerrie asked.

Neil responded with a belch. He had a smug look on his face, as if he was proud of himself. Kerrie wanted to drive her fist right into his freckled nose. Wouldn't look so smug then, would he?

"You going to eat that?" Neil pointed to the unfinished burger on her plate.

Kerrie lost her appetite—for both her food and Neil. It was the third day on the cruise and Neil had already embarrassed her. Neil had a few drinks too many the night before and wrapped the evening up by crashing into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. Kerrie had helped him up—regretting doing so afterward—and brought him back to their room. She removed his wine-stained shirt and sat on the cold bathroom tiles as Neil's puke splattered the toilet bowl. Oysters and red wine. Kerrie wouldn't have either anytime soon.

Their relationship was hanging by a thread and she thought a trip together could resolve it. Kerrie had been working nights as a nurse in Tampa Bay while Neil had been feeding on unemployment. Neil lost his job—and that's fine, Kerrie told herself—but he became a real ass in the process. Intolerable. Dependant. Couple that with Kerrie's daily exhaustion and frankly I don't have time for your bullshit attitude, they were a recipe for disaster. Things that Kerrie used to love about Neil became things she hated. Love turned to regret. Regret to resentment.

But a vacation could solve their problems—or so she thought. They could put all the stress behind them and enjoy spending time together as they used to. She could have never been more wrong. Now she was his caretaker and an embarrassment by association.

Neil looked at Kerrie and back toward her food. He took her silence as a response and grabbed her plate, shaking the remainder of her food onto his own.

"You're a pig." Kerrie got up from her seat and left the dining hall.

"Kerrie, what's the problem?" Neil said as she marched out the door.

The doors swung shut behind Kerrie and she felt she could finally breathe. She loved the smell of the ocean, the salt warming her senses. The water calmed since last night, a never-ending sea of liquid glass. The sky was clear and the sun heated the deck. Kerrie slid her sandals off to feel the warmth of the wood beneath her feet.

The sun always worked wonders on her mood. Feeling the heat on her skin, like a warm bath, calmed her mind. It was part of the reason why working night shifts at the hospital became so hard. Kerrie was always predisposed to the blues. It ran in the family. But Kerrie was also a workaholic. "Idle hands bring idle thoughts," her mother always said. Kerrie always kept moving, she kept her hands busy to distract herself. But sometimes it was hard.

Neil didn't make anything easier for her. Kerrie felt like she carried all the weight on her shoulders. She worked, made dinner, cleaned the house, skipped out on sleep to take Neil to appointments and interviews—because God forbid Neil got his license—and then she would take care of herself, if she had the time. She was exhausted and needed this vacation, but it seemed the same old followed her on board.

Neil came from behind, wrapping his arms around her stomach and kissing her neck. Kerrie felt his stomach gently resting on the small of her back. He smelled of pickles and she felt the crumbs on his fingers grate against her skin.

"I'm sorry babe," Neil said. "I just didn't want to waste any food."

"It's not about the food, Neil. It's your behavior. You're a mess and it's embarrassing."

"I've barely had anything to drink."

There it was, that smug look again. Kerrie felt her fist tighten, her knuckles turning white like the ocean waves.

"You've had enough, Neil." Kerrie turned to face him. "You're slurring and can barely focus on me."

"Come back inside, let's have some dessert."

"No, Neil. I will not. Not like this."

"Okay. Okay. Listen." Neil wiped the smug look off his face. "No more drinks, I'll sober up and we can enjoy a nice day together."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"No more drinks?" Kerrie was already ashamed for trusting him.

"No more drinks."

Neil placed both hands along her jaw and planted a kiss on her lips. Kerrie didn't kiss back and when Neil pulled away, she smelled pickles again.

She felt it, during that kiss. Something was missing—the connection that once tied them together—and it made her sad. For five grueling years, Kerrie poured herself into the relationship until all that was left was an empty shell. They were going through the motions.

"Shall we head to the pool?" Kerrie mustered up a smile.

Kerrie watched Neil propel down a slide into the pool, his back making the same sound the squeegees did when she cleaned her car window. His splash stretched outside the pool and wet the feet of those tanning on beach chairs. Kerrie felt a wave of embarrassment rush through her body. She wanted to crawl out of her skin and slip away, but instead lowered her hat and sunk into her chair. Next to her, two women were chatting away.

"Did you hear about the plane that almost flew into the ship last night?"

"I was right there!" the other responded. "Stephen and I went for a walk towards the bow last night. I nearly jumped out of my pants when I saw it happen."

"Sorry, did you say a plane almost flew into the ship?" Kerrie interrupted.

"You didn't hear it?" She wore pink sunglasses with heart-shaped frames. "It came out of the sky and landed in the ocean just ahead of the ship. And it wasn't just any ol' plane. It was a spaceship."

The other woman wearing a sunhat leaned in, "And there was still a man onboard. He was wearing one of those spacesuits."

"Holy shit," Kerrie said.

Kerrie heard nothing last night. She was too busy rubbing Neil's back as he shamelessly released a steady stream of black vomit into the toilet.

"Did the man survive?"

"Of course not, dear." Kerrie wasn't sure if Sunglasses meant to sound condescending. "But they found the body."

"I heard they were supposed to land at the Kennedy Space Center, but something must have gone wrong. Or is it Cape Canaveral?" Sunhat paused. "Anyway, the ship is heading back to Florida."

"Did you know a cruise has a morgue? I couldn't believe it when I heard it. But really, think about it. This ain't the first time someone died at sea. They need a place to store the body."

Kerrie was silent and processing when Sunglasses reached out, "Sharron, pleased to meet you."

"Leah." The other lifted her hat and smiled.

"Kerrie."

"What brings you on this cruise? Vacation with the husband?" Sharron asked.

"Boyfriend. He's right over there." Kerrie pointed.

Neil held a noodle in his hand and was whacking a kid in the head.

"Well isn't that lovely," Leah said.

"How about yourselves?"

"Just a little family fun," Leah laughed. "We're sisters. Our husbands and kids are playing in the pool. Aiden is Sharron's, he just turned eight. Kayla is mine and she just turned six."

"I completely forgot their water wings. What kind of mother am I?" Sharron said. "Luckily for me, they have a kiddie pool."

"Those two over there?" Kerrie pointed.

"Sure are," Sharron said.

'They're cute," Kerrie added.

Kerrie could feel the conversation reaching its expiry date and attempted to get comfortable in her chair, but Leah leaned in further. Kerrie regretted opening her mouth in the first place.

"Thoughts for any kids of your own?" Leah asked.

"Not sure to be honest," Kerrie said.

Kerrie hadn't thought that far ahead. She could barely see a future with Neil let alone a kid. And this trip has made it painfully clear. Neil wasn't the man she wanted him to be. He's the same kid she fell in love with years ago. He has become resistant to change, unable to grow. And now Kerrie was falling out of love.

"That's alright, they sure ain't for everyone," Sharron said. "I swear, over the last few years my migraines have gotten worse. It's all the screaming and crying. Don't get me wrong, I love them more than anything, but they're going to be the death of me."

"It could be worse," Kerrie looked towards the sky.

"The spaceman," Sharron smiled. "Well said." Sharron raised her pink drink in the air, the little umbrella almost tipping out.

Kerrie took the opportunity to close her eyes and catch up on some sleep. The sun broke through the thin skin of her eyelids, adding a deep red to the darkness of her mind like a bed of hot coals. And then she slipped away. Blackness.

Kerrie rose to her feet and looked around. She searched for something or someone. There were no walls or edges for her eyes to hold on to. There was nothingness.

Kerrie looked down and found a thin sheet of water beneath her feet. Any movement sent a continuous ripple to the shadows, like some great cosmic reaction expanding across time and space. Within the ripples, she could see slight glimpses of her reflection but there was no light here.

Is the light coming from the other side?

Kerrie reached down, her fingertips dipping into the water. It was viscous, almost resisting her touch. As she pulled her hand out, the black liquid stretched from the surface to her fingertips before breaking.

Am I standing on the ocean?

Kerrie suddenly felt small. An infinite world of darkness stretched out on all sides—she felt like she would be consumed by it. She felt that it wanted to consume her until she too became nothing.

Kerrie was not alone.

"Feed me," She heard it whisper.

Kerrie felt its presence, like black tentacles reaching into her skull to prod her brain. She felt it coming. She heard it splashing through the water. Kerrie ran.

"FEED ME. FEED ME. FEED ME."

Her breath was loud and her heart raged like a marathon runner. Kerrie brought her hands to her chest, trying to stop her heart from bursting through her sternum and onto the cold, black water.

Kerrie turned and saw him. He wore a spacesuit and his skin was pale. His eyes were white. The man stared at her and Kerrie could no longer run. Even if she could, she knew the man would be right behind her.

His jaw slowly opened, like the door of a haunted house and from within a dark sludge poured out. The man screamed and Kerrie covered her ears.

No. No. No.

And then she woke up.