APRIL 1^ST, 2014.

The room was bathed in pale moonlight, shadows dancing eerily on the walls. Clara’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her body tangled in the sheets as beads of sweat rolled down her temples. Her lips trembled as muffled cries escaped them, her mind gripped by the terror of a vivid nightmare.

In the dream, she stood frozen in a blood-soaked battlefield, screams ringing in her ears. Bodies lay scattered across the ground, and the air reeked of iron and smoke. Her bare feet were submerged in dark, crimson water that rose unnaturally fast, reaching her knees, then her chest. Panic surged through her as she struggled to breathe, her screams silenced by the suffocating tide.

Her body jerked violently, and suddenly she was sinking into darkness. The battlefield disappeared, replaced by endless black. A steam erupted from her throat, sharp and desperate, shattering the stillness of the night.

Mrs. white bolted upright in bed, her heart racing. “Johnson, wake up!” she whispered urgently, shaking her husband’s shoulder. “it’s Clara. Something’s wrong!”

Another scream rang out, louder this time. Johnson white was on his feet before the echoes faded, and they rushed down the hallway.

Clara was thrashing on her bed when they burst into the room, her face pale and drenched in sweat. Her lips moved as though she was speaking, but only incoherent whispers came out.

“Clara!” Mrs. white cried, kneeling by her side. She gripped Clara’s shoulders gently, shaking her awake.

Clara’s eyes flew open, wide and unseeing at first until they locked onto her mother’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped for air.

“Blood,” she whispered, her voice trembling.” So much blood…and screaming. I couldn’t… I couldn’t breathe.”

Mrs. white pulled her into a tight embrace, stroking her damp hair. “it’s okay, darling. It was just a dream. You’re safe now, I promise.”

Clara clung to her mother, her frail body trembling uncontrollably.

Johnson stood silently at the doorway, his fist clenched and jaw tight. His eyes burned with anger as he thought of the Jacksons. Haven’t they done enough damage already? He fumed. His daughter was reduced to this shadow of herself, haunted by nightmares.  

 It was morning. At breakfast, the atmosphere was heavy. Clara pushed her food around on her plate, her eyes downcast and distant. Mrs. white sipped her tea, her gaze flickering to her husband.

“she’s not herself, darling,” she said quietly, not trying to alarm Clara. "We need to take her to see a doctor. This isn’t normal.”

Johnson slammed his coffee mug onto the table, the loud clatter making Clara and her sisters flinch.

“Haven’t the Jacksons done enough already?” he growled. “first their son endangered her, and now this?” I’ll tell you what if Kelvin doesn’t keep his family in check…”

“Johnson,” Mrs. white interrupted softly, placing a calming hand on his arm.

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “fine. We'll see a doctor.”

Clara remained silent, her fork poised mid-air. Her parent’s voices faded into the background as she stared blankly at the tablecloth, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to her like a dark cloud. Her sisters were quiet which was unlike them.

At the port, the sun blazed high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the bustling port. The salty tang of the Ocean mixed with the metallic scent of ship hulls and fresh fish. Men moved briskly, unloading crates and securing nets, their voices steady hum of gossip and laughter.

“Did you hear what happened at the port yesterday” one man whispered.

“What happened?” another man asked.

Their conversation faltered as a tall figure strode past. Kelvin Jackson’s polished shoes clinked against the concrete, his tailored suit standing out amidst the port's casual work attire. The men straightened up, their chatter reduced to hushed murmurs as they avoided gaze.

Kelvin ascended the steps to his office, his demeanor cold and commanding. Once inside, he loosened his tie and picked up his phone. “send Captain Will to my office,” he ordered curtly before hanging up.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and Captain Will stepped in, his weather betraying a mixture of irritation and restraint.

“what is it this time, Kelvin?” Will asked, crossing his arms.

Kelvin leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “warn your daughter to stay away from my son,”

Captain Wills's expression darkened, his voice rising. “my daughter has nothing to do with your son! And for the record, she isn’t some cheap girl you can toss accusations at.”

Kelvin's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

The office door burst open slamming against the wall, and Johnson White stormed in. his eyes burned with fury as he pointed an accusatory finger at Kelvin.

“You!” he bellowed. “keep your heartless son away from my daughter and my family, or so help me, you’ll regret it.”

Kelvin rose slowly, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Johnson's rage. “watch your tone, white,” he said coldly.

“don’t you dare lecture me!” Mr. white spat. “I haven’t forgotten how you destroyed my life, my career, my reputation all for your gain. You don’t deserve that chair, and you know it!”

Captain Will glanced between the two men, his brows furrowed in discomfort.

Johnson stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “if anything happens to my daughter Clara, I’ll expose you for the fraud that you are. Enjoy your throne while it lasts, Kelvin Jackson.”

Without another word, Mr. White spun on his heel and stormed out, leaving the door wide open. The sound of whispers and gasps filled the corridor as the port workers pieced together the heated confrontation.

Kelvin’s face remained unreadable as he turned to Captain Will. “you’re dismissed.”

Captain Will hesitated for a moment, then left, slamming the door shut behind him. Outside, the gossiping voices grew louder, the tension at the port palpable.

“did you hear about Mr. White’s daughter?” One man whispered; his tone laced with pity.

“who hasn’t?” another replied, leaning against a rusted railing. “poor guy lost everything. Used to be the best fisherman around, but Jackson's family made sure he couldn’t step foot in the port again.”

Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains of the dining room as Miranda sat at the table, her breakfast untouched. She stared at the plate; her eyes puffy from crying the night before.

Across from her sat her father, Dr. David Mack, his posture stiff and his tone stern.

“you’ve recovered well enough to sit here,” he said, his voice sharp. “but you disobeyed me, Miranda. I told you not to go to that island, and you did it anyway. Look what happened amnesia! You can’t even remember what went on there.”

“It’s dissociative amnesia,” he added, his tone clinical, “and it could have been far worse.”

Miranda lowered her gaze, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched her fork.

“from now on,” Dr. Mack continued, “no boat, no shopping, no television. You’ll focus on your studies and learn to follow instructions. Is that clear?”

Miranda nodded silently, her throat tightening with unshed tears.

“good,” he said curtly, rising from the table. “I have a lecture to give. I’ll see you later.”

As the door closed behind him, Miranda let out a shaky breath, her tears finally spilling over.

Her mother, Janet Mack, approached quietly, placing a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, pulling Miranda into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Miranda sobbed into her Mother’s embrace.

Janet stroked her hair soothingly. “I know you are. Your father means well, but he has his way of showing it. Don’t let it weigh you down too much.”

Miranda sniffled and nodded, though the heaviness in her chest remained.