The Changed (Completed)

Chapter Five: Confusion

"Margo,"

Wet sand was dumped from a plastic bucket leaving a cylinder formation. A seagull cawed overhead, a white fleck in an endlessly clear sky. The air was salty on my tongue, the view tinted by pink heart-shaped sunglasses bought a few days before.

My feet slapped against the firm beach as I ran toward the water, the plastic bucket knocking against my knobby knees.

"Margo, where are you!" My mother called from her foldout chair, the breeze pulling the pages of her romance novel, "Margo! Stay where I can see you, babe!"

The ocean was dark and cold. My legs disappeared beneath the white foam as I scooped water into the bucket.  Bent over, I didn't see the large wave until it slammed against me, pushing me beneath the water. A salty, bitter sea burned my nose and eyes. My knees scraped the sharp shells as I struggled to find my balance.

A large hand grabbed the straps of my one-piece swimsuit, yanking me to the surface.

"You're okay, Mar,"

I blew chunks of snot and ocean from my nose. My throat burned as I gripped my dad's tanned waist.

His Hispanic heritage was written in his dark eyes and thick black hair. He pulled me onto his hip as I gripped his neck. Holding me above the water, I could see the plastic yellow bucket floating far away, carried by one wave after another.

"My bucket!" I screeched, "My bucket, Daddy!"

Dad sighed, planting a kiss on my forehead, "It's okay, Mar," he rubbed the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, "Mar means ocean in Spanish, you know mija? The sea is gonna give and it's gonna take."

"Daddy, I want my bucket," I demanded.

He chuckled, his teeth were bright, "I know, I know, Mommy will get you another one from the store before tomorrow. I think we're ready to go get some lunch."

I groaned, still clinging to him as he carried me back to the beach chairs. The sun was so warm against my skin, I could feel myself getting tan. 

It was the sun I felt first when I began to regain consciousness. It stung my eyes as I struggled to make sense of the scene shrouded by the bright and burning light.

I was being carried by the same guards as before down a long path bordered by grass. Small sheds, all identical, bordered the path. The sheds were numbered, seemingly going on forever along the path ahead.

My arms and legs were sore. I could hardly move anything other than my head. Beyond the sheds, there was a tall fence of what appeared to be barbed wire. Panic bubbled in my chest. I wanted to yank away from the strong hands gripping me. Yet, my body wouldn't obey.

"She's awake," A deep voice said, "She's not supposed to be awake."

A blunt force cracked across my head.

"You're my little storm cloud," my mother cooed.

It was the same memory, but earlier, before I'd lost the bucket in the waves. I was lying on my mother's chest. I could hear her heartbeat. Her skin was warm against my cheek. My hair was wet and a towel was on top of me. Beneath the towel, I was covered in goosebumps.

"Don't you want to go play, Mar?" Dad asked, "I know you're upset about stepping on a shell, but hey, it's the beach, it's gonna happen."

"She can stay here a little longer until her foot stops hurting," my mom replied, "You can stay with mommy, Margo, stay with mommy the whole trip!"