I Died In His Sick Game

Summary

Ten months. Ten months of being stranded on a barren, isolated island with my baby girl.

I placed her fragile, fever-ravaged body onto a makeshift wooden raft. Then I plunged into the freezing ocean water, kicking with everything I had, pushing the raft forward through the swells.

In the distance, the dark, triangular fins of sharks sliced through the waves, circling us, closing the gap. Despair, cold and absolute, washed over me. With one final, agonizing burst of strength, I gave the raft a massive push, sending her toward the outer boundary of the bay.