IIII: The Mourning – Part I

remember waking up hours later in the hut. The air was thick with voices and hushed panic.

People had gathered—locals, vacationers, and uniformed officers from the coast guard, combing the sea for any trace of the beast…

or of Sergio.

They placed a bounty on the shark. A large one.

It felt surreal—like we were suddenly characters inside that movie.

But this time, the horror was ours.

When they noticed I was awake and walking, a few approached me. They asked what happened during those fatal seconds.

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But my voice had vanished.

I was holding back tears—too overwhelmed to relive it.

“I’m fine,” I lied, barely audible, and walked away.

I asked around, looking for Sergio and Juan’s mother.

Someone said she was in her hut, lying down, unable to speak. The shock had shattered her.

Juan stayed by her side, silent but present—his face stone-like.

Poor Juan… How do you carry all that pain and not fall apart?

That thought alone crushed me.

I returned to my own hut.

My parents and sister were waiting—still stunned by the news, holding back both disbelief and relief that I had survived.

So had Margery.

Margery…

I ran out again. I needed to see her.

I found her sitting alone on the rocks near the sea.

She wasn’t sobbing—just silently crying, staring out into the darkening water.

The sea was calm again.

Too calm.

Its colors faded as dusk descended.

Blue. Red. It didn’t matter anymore.

I sat next to her. She leaned her head on my shoulder and whispered:

“Our sea took Sergio away…”

Her tears rolled down her cheeks, and in her soft chestnut eyes, I saw something deeper than sadness.

I saw loss. And the kind of pain that settles into the soul.