Salt to the Sea

by Ruta Sepetys

Floating in the sea of black, we were forced to witness the massive and grotesque deaths of thousands of people.

So many people needed my help. And now I could do nothing.

Guilt is a hunter. I was its hostage.

I had the knight’s pack. The knight had the baby. The knight would want his pack. I wanted my baby.

It was my punishment. Honor lost. Everything lost. Shame is a hunter. My shame was all around me now.

You see, fear is a hunter. It encircles us when we are unarmed and least expect it. And then we are forced to make decisions.

All the running, the hiding, the lies, the killing, for what? The endless circle of revenge: answering pain by inflicting pain. Why did I do it?

He was telling me things now because he knew we were going to die.

Most would have fought to be “the one.” They would have insisted they ought to be “the one.” But Emilia had pushed the wandering boy into the boat, sacrificing herself for another.

Joana Vilkas, your daughter, your sister. She is salt to the sea.

Then I saw something. I blinked softly. It was still there. Yes. It was coming closer, cutting through the water toward me, gradually becoming brighter. Light.

“Is Opi on the boat?” he asked.

I will sob

The wandering boy cried of aches in his legs and feet. And he cried for Opi. The baby whimpered for Emilia.

Who was I? I looked down at Joana and the children. Who did I want to be?

But I had finally made it home. And for the first time in a long time, I was not afraid.

Sobbing now

She arrived not on a public beach, like most of the bottles and floats. She came directly to us, in our sandy backyard, defying tides and the elements.

More than nine thousand perished. Your Emilia was one of them.

And there Emilia rests. She is safe. She is loved.