Why Did She Try to Kill Me?

*Isla*

“Where are we going?”

I ask the person who is grasping my hand now, but there’s no answer. It’s not my mother. I know that much. The grip is tight and painful, and Mom would never hold onto my hand so tightly.

In response, I hear a voice that sounds like it’s coming from beneath the waves say, “You have to stay with me, Isla.”

“But why?” I ask. Glancing down, I see that my feet are not on the ground anymore. When I stepped onto the wood of the dock, going out onto the boat, my feet never made contact with the ground again, and now, I am floating away, up into the sky.

The only thing that seems to be tethering me to the ground is this person whose face I cannot see, whose grip is so strong, I can’t break away from it.

“Because… you must,” is all the person says.

I can’t tell if it is a male or a female, young or old, or even where the voice is originating from. I can’t see them at all. When I try to look down to see the grasp on my arm, all I can see is a band of silver that rem