Survival Story: A Girl and Her Dog’s Tale

Emma Hanson knew three things.

One: her father was dead.

Two: his killer was still on the boat.

Three: she couldn’t stay hidden beneath the bed forever.

Emma’s ears pounded, even over the lapping water on the hull, the drizzling rain, the shifting of an overturned bottle, and the pacing of the man who had just committed unimaginable acts. Tears burned at her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. To keep quiet, she bit her bottom lip so hard that blood was welling up around her teeth.

Calm often followed chaos. A raging storm ended in what felt like an abrupt way—the moments after a car accident seemed to linger in stillness. And a ship fell still and silent in the wake of agonized screaming. Eighteen years old, Emma was pretty sure her world had just come to a screeching halt.

They were on a boat in the middle of the ocean. There was no way to call for help. Her heart ached at the thought of losing her father. They were close, closer than Emma had ever been with her mother. To have lost him – it was a devastating thought. Her chest felt tight. Her muscles were coiled so stiffly that she thought they might burst.

The mattress weighed against her back. With each passing second, the space beneath the bed seemed to grow tighter and tighter. Emma couldn’t stay here forever. She had to do – something. Her legs were numb. Her shoulders ached.

Her father was dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

Dead and never coming back.

Emma wanted to sob. She bit her lip harder. The pain was a good enough distraction, for the moment at least.

And there was another concern, absurdly prominent in her mind. Her dog, Cozzie, was on the ship, too. Emma didn’t know what a terrifying thought was: that something had happened to her beloved dog or that he would come and investigate what kind of game she was playing, curled up under the bed as she was. Both options seemed equally awful.

Emma’s whole body shook fine tremors that laced through her thighs and into her spine. She took a breath, then a second one. Her fingers curled against the hardwood floor, dust caking up under her nails. Outside, a clap of thunder rang out, startling Emma so severely that she jumped.

The bed rattled against the floor. Her heart stopped, but – no one came down. She was still here, alone.

It didn’t make sense to her.

Johnnie had been friends with her father for a long time.