I'm Sorry but the Party's Over
Chapter Two
Mibba Survivor
Rowan watched Melody storm past her, shrinking as far into the shadows as she could. It didn’t matter; the other woman didn’t seem to have noticed her. She looked too preoccupied in her own thoughts, and though she had rejoined the others, there was something about the way she was standing, the way she was holding herself, the way she stared out at nothing in particular that made Rowan think-
What, Rowan? She asked herself. Made you think what?
She thought too much, she knew that. Everyone always told her to stop thinking and start doing, but she couldn’t help it. It was easier to live life on the sidelines than try and get out there and play ball.
Rowan sighed heavily. There was nothing wrong with Melody. She knew that. She was reading too much into it. Glancing down at the untouched drink in her hand, she sighed again. This really wasn't her scene. All around her, people – her friends, she had to keep reminding herself – were drinking themselves into oblivion, thrashing along to the pulsing trance music that was making her ears bleed and getting off with each other left, right and centre.
It was exhausting. Having to pretend she was enjoying herself every time someone noticed her existence, whilst secretly wishing she was back at home, celebrating the way she wanted to: with a quiet night in and a bottle of bubbly. It wasn't her idea to hire a yacht and sail out to the middle of the bloody ocean for a party.
Abandoning her drink on the side, she trudged over to the starboard side of the ship. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself as the cold sea breeze washed over her, and looked out at the ocean.
Granted, it really was beautiful. It was so dark that she couldn’t see where the sea ended and the sky began. The sky was peppered with glittering diamonds, and the moon hung suspended in the middle like a gigantic disco ball. The calm, rhythmic rocking of the waves against the boat soothed Rowan, smoothing away the frown on her face and tugging her lips into a hesitant smile. She closed her eyes slowly, trying to lose herself in a world without blasting music and perennial parties.
Something flashed momentarily in front of her eyelids and she frowned, opening her eyes. Nothing. Just the empty black sea. Distinctly unsettled, she pivoted slowly, trying to work out where the sudden eerie light came from.
But then came the unmistakable, not too distant rumble of thunder, and Rowan’s eyes widened with sick realisation. It was all but drowned out by the deafening music, but Rowan heard it. And she knew what it meant.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God.”
At that moment, the heavens opened and the gathering wisps of clouds that had been slowly congregating over the boat split at their seams, unleashing a torrent of rain that pounded the boat and everything on it. Screams broke out, as perfectly-straightened hair was reduced to a frizzy clump of fluff. In seconds, everyone was drenched. The music player was next to go; the water worked its way inside the black boom box and, with a belch of sound, it promptly died. The deck was rendered silent for the first time that night.
But the worst was yet to come. Now that the music no longer covered it, the howling wind started cackling, whipping up hair, clothing and anything else that got in its way. Objects were hurled halfway across the deck, nearly colliding with James. With a yelp, he jumped out of the way just in time.
Mass hysteria broke out all at once. People started running around like headless chickens, screaming like it was the end of the world. The yacht was rocking uncontrollably, not helped by the people running, which was starting to unbalance it.
“Guys!” Rowan yelled frantically, trying desperately to be heard over the roar of the wind and the buzzing in her ears. “Calm down or it’s going to capsize!”
No one paid her a hoot of attention. The buzzing grew to a steady screech, and though she clamped her hands over her ears, it didn’t go away. With a sinking feeling in her chest, she could feel the familiar headache starting to throb in her temples.
“Oh no,” she whispered, crumpling to a heap on the deck. But no one noticed.
Her eyes were fluttering, fighting to stay conscious. Her mouth was moving, trying to form words. Black spots were pulsing in her blurring vision. She could feel the weight of her eyelids dragging her to unconsciousness, and knew it was only a matter of time.
The last thing she saw before she passed out was the yacht, tipping precariously to one side, water rushing up to fill the decks.
Then everything went black, and she slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
Rowan watched Melody storm past her, shrinking as far into the shadows as she could. It didn’t matter; the other woman didn’t seem to have noticed her. She looked too preoccupied in her own thoughts, and though she had rejoined the others, there was something about the way she was standing, the way she was holding herself, the way she stared out at nothing in particular that made Rowan think-
What, Rowan? She asked herself. Made you think what?
She thought too much, she knew that. Everyone always told her to stop thinking and start doing, but she couldn’t help it. It was easier to live life on the sidelines than try and get out there and play ball.
Rowan sighed heavily. There was nothing wrong with Melody. She knew that. She was reading too much into it. Glancing down at the untouched drink in her hand, she sighed again. This really wasn't her scene. All around her, people – her friends, she had to keep reminding herself – were drinking themselves into oblivion, thrashing along to the pulsing trance music that was making her ears bleed and getting off with each other left, right and centre.
It was exhausting. Having to pretend she was enjoying herself every time someone noticed her existence, whilst secretly wishing she was back at home, celebrating the way she wanted to: with a quiet night in and a bottle of bubbly. It wasn't her idea to hire a yacht and sail out to the middle of the bloody ocean for a party.
Abandoning her drink on the side, she trudged over to the starboard side of the ship. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself as the cold sea breeze washed over her, and looked out at the ocean.
Granted, it really was beautiful. It was so dark that she couldn’t see where the sea ended and the sky began. The sky was peppered with glittering diamonds, and the moon hung suspended in the middle like a gigantic disco ball. The calm, rhythmic rocking of the waves against the boat soothed Rowan, smoothing away the frown on her face and tugging her lips into a hesitant smile. She closed her eyes slowly, trying to lose herself in a world without blasting music and perennial parties.
Something flashed momentarily in front of her eyelids and she frowned, opening her eyes. Nothing. Just the empty black sea. Distinctly unsettled, she pivoted slowly, trying to work out where the sudden eerie light came from.
But then came the unmistakable, not too distant rumble of thunder, and Rowan’s eyes widened with sick realisation. It was all but drowned out by the deafening music, but Rowan heard it. And she knew what it meant.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God.”
At that moment, the heavens opened and the gathering wisps of clouds that had been slowly congregating over the boat split at their seams, unleashing a torrent of rain that pounded the boat and everything on it. Screams broke out, as perfectly-straightened hair was reduced to a frizzy clump of fluff. In seconds, everyone was drenched. The music player was next to go; the water worked its way inside the black boom box and, with a belch of sound, it promptly died. The deck was rendered silent for the first time that night.
But the worst was yet to come. Now that the music no longer covered it, the howling wind started cackling, whipping up hair, clothing and anything else that got in its way. Objects were hurled halfway across the deck, nearly colliding with James. With a yelp, he jumped out of the way just in time.
Mass hysteria broke out all at once. People started running around like headless chickens, screaming like it was the end of the world. The yacht was rocking uncontrollably, not helped by the people running, which was starting to unbalance it.
“Guys!” Rowan yelled frantically, trying desperately to be heard over the roar of the wind and the buzzing in her ears. “Calm down or it’s going to capsize!”
No one paid her a hoot of attention. The buzzing grew to a steady screech, and though she clamped her hands over her ears, it didn’t go away. With a sinking feeling in her chest, she could feel the familiar headache starting to throb in her temples.
“Oh no,” she whispered, crumpling to a heap on the deck. But no one noticed.
Her eyes were fluttering, fighting to stay conscious. Her mouth was moving, trying to form words. Black spots were pulsing in her blurring vision. She could feel the weight of her eyelids dragging her to unconsciousness, and knew it was only a matter of time.
The last thing she saw before she passed out was the yacht, tipping precariously to one side, water rushing up to fill the decks.
Then everything went black, and she slipped into blissful unconsciousness.