Realization
Sabrina dies at 26.
She’s been murdered by her ex-boyfriend, Darrell. But not. She’s not dead.
She’s alive. Her name isn’t Sabrina. It’s Amara. Amara Warner, only daughter of Xavier Warner and his deceased first wife, Skye Warner née Landry.
The same as the girl in a story Sabrina wrote. A story she wrote with her ex-boyfriend. They had been in their honeymoon phase, and it had sounded like such a great idea at the time.
She’s been murdered and now she’s taken the place of a character from a book. She’s dead but alive. Or neither dead nor alive. Maybe she’s trapped in a coma, and this is all a figment of her imagination.
They had fought over the story, the characters and the plot. Sabrina and her ex that is. It was supposed to be fun but, in the end, Sabrina hated it, everything about it. The end of the story was the last straw to break between them.
It was her goodbye to him. Except he refused to let her go, determined that if he couldn’t have her, no one could. When Sabrina had ended the story, brutally and, finally, killing the main female lead, she was also doing so symbolically to their relationship. She forced the male lead to live with his awful choices and the regret that he could have had someone to love him without malice or ulterior motives.
Just like Darell.
Darrell had hated it, threw a tantrum and everything but she had already submitted the chapter so he couldn’t change it. She was just tired of it all. The suffering, the ups and downs, the confusion, and constant lack of change, of growth in the characters that should have felt like real people. The lack of actual dialogue! Of conversations!
Just like Darrell.
The longer they were together, the more the red flags Sabrina started to see like a klaxon alarm. Darrell refused to change, to grow, and talk to her, to have conversations with her. Darrell, who made assumptions and tried to make demands of her. As if he had any right to do so.
It reached a point where he slapped her. Once. Once was one too many. So, she made sure it would also be the last time.
The second the shock had worn off, her temper flared like a supernova, and she swung her leg up right between his legs. She had completely ignored his ranting and raving, going straight for his greatest weakness. Once on the ground she had reached for the biggest kitchen knife in her apartment and held it to his throat.
“If you ever, ever, put your filthy hands on me again, I’ll make sure no one ever finds your hands.” She threatened, before dragging him by his hair and throwing him down the stairs.
He was too much of a coward to call the police. But not Sabrina. Oh, no, she filed a complaint that day and two days later, submitted the last chapter, the epilogue, of their story. Metaphorically and literally.
All of it drove her crazy. It made her furious and filled her heart full of grief and white-hot rage because this wasn’t what she envisioned when she started the story with Darrell. This wasn’t what she saw or wanted for herself.
But Sabrina has always been optimistic. She began making plans to start over, to make a new story, one that was entirely her own. A story that would encompass all of her hopes and dreams for what a romance story should be.
And then Darrell killed her.
She’s been murdered by her ex-boyfriend. But she’s not dead. She’s alive. Her name isn’t Sabrina. It’s Amara. Amara Warner, only daughter of Xavier Warner and his deceased first wife, Skye Warner. She’s the stepdaughter to Xavier’s second wife, Helena Warner née Abbott and the stepsister to their daughter Celia Warner.
Sabrina hopes Darrell rots in prison as somebody’s bitch!
Now here she is, at the beginning of this dumpster fire of a novel, taking the place of the female protagonist. The character that Darrell enjoyed making suffer, “for the sake of true love.”
What utter bullshit!
Her grip on the ship railing is tight and real. It’s cold beneath her hand, the metal refusing to bend. Everyone is inside having fun and hiding away from the cool Caribbean breeze. The air smells like ocean foam and the sounds of seagulls are just as loud as the music coming from inside the cruise ship hall. She ignores the laughter and chatter coming from somewhere behind her. The dress she’s wearing is a soft blue that hugs her curves but does nothing to protect her from the slight chill.
Her gaze is on the moon above her. It’s mesmerizing. The main event has already happened. Inspired by her favorite tv show as a teenager, Amara had found an underground pool after her stepsister and her friends had pushed her into a steep cave opening, before blocking the entrance. She’d been left there for hours, exploring the cave before finding a hidden grotto deep within the caves. Her feet ached and her stomach lurched with hunger. But her heart was full of hope, hope that she could swim her way out and back to the rest of the cruise party.
But it was already late, the full moon had risen high into the sky and had graced its light onto the water where Amara entered, treading the surface, heart beating hard in her chest, as she gathered her courage to dive into the dark. The moonlight stopped her. It captivated her and when it was over, time had passed without her realizing.
Amara took that dive and made her way back to shore.
It was magical and beautiful. It was the beginning of a dark and painful tale for a shy and soft woman.
Originally, when she made it back to the docked cruise ship, she was soaking wet and harshly scolded since she carelessly “worried” everyone. It's late, early morning now and that "worry" clearly meant nothing in the face of the rich elite party happening in the cruise ship ballroom.
Sabrina is not Amara, even if she is. She knows these characters, these people. No one had missed her. Everyone had made assumptions about her and about what she spent all those hours doing.
Everyone thought they knew her, her character, her thoughts. All of it was made worse by her stepsister, Celia. The blonde, gray eyed girl who used to be nice and kind. She used to be close to Amara, until she found out that most of the family assets were under Skye’s name and thus, belonged to Amara.
Ever since then, she’s become a monster. A monster with a pretty face and an ugly heart.
Amara’s mother, Skye, might have married Xavier and started a successful pharmaceutical company with him, but she left everything to her daughter. Just because Xavier is her father, means nothing, since Skye had appointed an independent contractor to hold her shares until she became of age.
That was two, in story, years ago. That ‘independent contractor’ is her uncle, Oliver Landry, who had never liked Xavier and who liked his second wife, even less. But he has been a fierce supporter of Amara since she lost her mother and had even pushed the girl to dorm at her university rather than live with her family.
Amara is in her second year of college, whereas Sabrina was in her second year of graduate school and struggling to find her place in the world. She is twenty-three. She was twenty-six. If this is a dream, how old is she? If this is real…
Oliver had convinced her to take her time going through school since she has twenty percent shares from a big company, rather than worrying about financial aid. With her uncle looking after her assets, she tries to focus on school, but Xavier and his stepfamily make that incredibly hard.
Afterall, it’s hard to focus on class when your family is constantly getting in your way, calling to complain, to whine, and harass you. It’s hard when your family accuses you of not communicating but then accuses you of talking too much. It’s hard when they whine that you’re not around as much and they miss you. But then they complain that you never do anything or go out when you are home. It’s hard when your family says they want you to succeed and at the same time, tell you that you’ll always be a failure in the same breath.
It was thanks to her uncle’s advice that she has a space all her own, where she can get away. Xavier had not thought she would actually move out but when Xavier had seen her following through, had thrown himself in convincing her to stay. With her out of the house, he has less chance to convince her to give him her shares if she leaves. He’s changed since Amara’s mother died, too.
Now, he’s determined to keep the Warner Group company all to himself. He’s deluded himself with the idea that the company is all that is left of his first wife, forgetting the daughter Skye had given birth to. To him, Amara is a ghost mocking his memory of his first wife. However, that same ghost lives in his house and has a hand in his company.
This cruise is supposed to be the Warner family’s evidence of how much they care about Amara. A chance for them to show that her shares would be safe with them and that they would give her a fair price for them.
All of it is a lie. All of it is a trap.
Sabrina is not Amara. But Sabrina is Amara.
She knows this story. She knows tricks and traps, the desires and hopes of every character. Standing here on the cruise, watching the moon and the sparkling lights from the ocean waves, Sabrina felt a little adrift.
But she also felt more alive than she’s ever felt before. Right here and right now, magic is real. It is happening. It is taking place within her body. It was happening to her. (Is this a dream? Can this be real?)
The story was a mix of fantasy and dark romance. At least, that was the aim Sabrina had and at the end of the story, it was nothing like she had pictured, except right now, she could change it. Right now, she was part of that fantasy world she had dreamed of putting down onto paper and sending it out for the whole world to see.
In the morning, she would be a mermaid.
Her breath hitched in wonder.
Despite all the horrible things that have happened and that could happen, a deep sense of awe filled her heart. Her grip on the railing loosened and the grip of her other hand around the small stone, hidden, clutched to her chest, grew tighter.
Right now, right this second, Sabrina or Amara, it doesn't matter-She is magic.
