"Not even a chance I'll stay here, oi?"

Helen Winston clicked her tongue as she glanced to her right, where her granddaughter sat in the passenger seat and gazed out the window with a vacant look. The woman could not deny that she pitied Lydia: she had been with her for more than a year, trapped in California, leaving behind a whole life with her parents, who had forced her to spend some time with her grandmother in the United States. And now, to top it all, her son and daughter-in-law were sending her on a spiritual retreat —as if she were crazy, wow, she remembered telling them.

"I'm afraid not, darling."

She watched the young woman nod from her position, her blonde hair covering her face and those huge headphones keeping her from reality. Helen would have liked to have been able to say that at that moment she went straight on the highway, instead of turning toward the airport, but the instructions from Lydia's parents had been very clear: that the girl went to this retreat, that she learn to be sociable and compatriot with women and learning to leave the past behind.

But, thought Helen, how could poor Lydia forget it if her parents kept repeating it to her? She watched Lydia get out of the car to help her pick up her bags and gave her a conciliatory smile and look, which had the desired effect on the teenager. Lydia let out a soft sigh and her lips twitched slowly: she couldn't be mad at her grandmother; after all, she wasn't to blame for anything, in fact, she was the only one who had done things for her in the last year.

Her grandmother was still agile, so she helped her with one of her suitcases while she carried her phone, a book for entertainment, and her other suitcase. "A private jet," her grandmother whistled as she read the stupid retreat pamphlet, trying to cheer her up. Lydia nodded slightly, as if she was just trying to show that she was still listening to her but telling her she wasn't interested in the least.

They arrived in the living room shortly after, knowing that she would have to say goodbye to her grandmother for who knows how many days. It wasn't that life in America excited her, but she had learned to live with her grandmother, and after years of being away from her, she had realized that she had missed her.

Lydia was born in the United States, but for work reasons her parents had moved to England when she was only a few months old. Her mother was English, so they had had no problem adjusting to Birmingham traditions, but a part of her had always been curious to know what life was like across the pond, especially after her father told her about it. He told so many stories about her grandmother.

"I think he is waiting for you," Helen nodded to a young boy in a steward at the boarding gate. Lydia pouted, as if harboring some hope that her frown and sad lips would have some positive effect on her grandmother, but they didn't. "I'm sorry, darling, but this is what your parents want for you. Think of it as some kind of holiday: you will be in Hawaii, sunbathing, having pina coladas, making new girlfriends."

"That's not what mum and dad had in mind," Lydia chimed in in a soft voice.

"God forbid they hear me, but fuck your parents. Forget what they said, focus on what I said. You and I both know you're perfectly fine, you don't need this, but it'll be good for you having a distraction, maybe even better than we think. When you come back, we'll go straight to In-n-out and we'll eat burgers until we can't no more. Just promise me you'll try and have fun, yeah?"

"Yes, granny. But don't expect me to bring you some handmade crap," Lydia smiled a bit. She loved her grandmother dearly and was grateful she'd taken her side.

"I wasn't counting on it," Helen hugged her granddaughter tightly, who returned the hug with equal enthusiasm. "I will see you soon. Have fun and use protection!"

The girl blushed. "I'm not doing that here, granny!"

"I was talking about sunscreen! You brits have a tendency to burn your skin easily."

The blush on Lydia's cheeks was still there when she said goodbye to her grandmother in the distance, permanently losing sight of her when she entered the tunnel that took her to the plane. The same steward they'd seen earlier offered to carry her bags to the hold, and she had no choice but to nod silently.

The blonde froze somewhat at the entrance of the plane when she noticed a projector in her head, as a voice began to slide gently through the speakers. Nine pairs of eyes stared at her as if they were not expecting another person, despite having a free seat on the plane, but Lydia did not react, she simply let her feet drag her to the only free armchair, next to a girl that was looking at her phone continuously and had given her a glance when she had seen her take a seat next to her.

Lydia looked around for a moment, trying to identify the faces of the girls who would be her companions in this adventure, but she found that no one was familiar to her and went back to her chores. She took off her headphones because it seemed a bit rude to be so far from reality, but she held the book she had brought close to her and ignored the introductory message that a blonde woman presented to them.

"So, in the interest of bringing us all together, I'd like to propose a little icebreaker," a blonde girl announced as she patted her thighs, wanting to get attention. However, all she got were looks of indifference or that urged her to shut up.

"Like never have I ever?" Another girl asked, excited that someone wanted to start a conversation.

"Oh, that game's a little much," the first girl protested softly, a heavy Texan accent slipping from her voice.

"I know, so here's how it works: one person says something they've never done, and if you have done it, you have to drink alcohol."

"That game's a little intense for people who don't know each other very well. How about we just pair off..." but Lydia had stopped listening. She was too nervous to fly again after so long, and the peculiar enthusiasm these two girls gave off did not relax her nerves. However, her rest did not last long, because the first blonde girl took her hand and moved her from her seat. "How about this group of three? Girl in the back doesn't want to participate."

Lydia didn't say anything, once again not to sound impertinent, so she just nodded. She crouched in the middle of the corridor, since she didn't have a chair to recline on, and stared at the two girls. One of them stared at her mirror, while the other seemed curious about the blonde sitting in the middle of the hall, her gaze lost somewhere on the now-off screen.

"Hey, I've got a question about your shirt."

"I've got a few questions about your cargo pants."

"Yeah, well I'm not a lesbian, sorry to disappoint. I just like storage."

The one from California let out a soft laugh at the girl's tone, but stopped abruptly when she realized it hadn't been a joke.

"Oh, that wasn't a joke? I'm sorry," Lydia apologized, a new blush tinting her cheeks.

The girl with the mirror in her hands turned with wide eyes. "Is that an accent I sense? Hot. Do you have a brother? —Lydia shook her head— A cousin? —The answer was negative once again— A father? Okay, that was too much even for me. How did you get here with an accent like that?"

"I live with my grandmother in Los Angeles. I moved here just a little more than a year ago."

"You have a hot accent and you live in Los Angeles? Girl, we're gonna be best friends. I'm Fatin."

Lydia shook her hand with a smile, somehow glad she had struck up a conversation with someone. "Lydia. And you're Dot, right?" The other girl, also with a Texan accent, turned to her, her brow furrowed, probably wondering how she had guessed her name. "It's on your backpack. Maybe I'll see you around," the girl got up, dusting her pants after sitting down on the floor. "I do like your cargos." She whispered close to Dot's ear, and Dot smirked.

However, when things seemed to be going well, Lydia had learned that fate always twisted everything unexpectedly, and this time was no exception. The plane began to move wildly, lights flickered, and oxygen masks fell onto the seats. The blonde's heart began to beat furiously against her chest, so hard it seemed her ribs would break at any moment. She looked around to confirm that all this was happening, that her luxurious retreat to Hawaii was turning into a terrifying nightmare.

She wishes she had said that she copied Nora, who ducked her head in her seat to prepare for the impending blow; or that she imitated Dot, who would spend her last minutes of life enjoying herself; or that at least she had been as scared as Fatin, who was crying uncontrollably in her seat. However, all she did was stand in the middle of the corridor, her eyes closed tightly, listening to disconcerting and mixed sounds, paralyzed with fear that these were going to be the last moments of life she was going to experience.

"That's it?"

Lydia clicked her tongue, mimicking her grandmother's characteristic gesture. It wasn't the first time she remembered her, but she felt that never had it hurt as much as this one. "I guess that's not it, but I really can't remember anything else until I woke up again. I would tell you, but I really don't remember how I passed out on the plane and then woke up like nothing had happened."

Her big blue eyes saw one of the researchers write something in his notebook, and she pursed her lips. She didn't like being analyzed and treated like she was crazy.

"What are you writing?"

The man raised his head. "Sometimes trauma is the cause for which we can't remember specific events of our lives. You say you were obviously scared, maybe that is the reason why your mind can't remember anything, because it's chosen to block those traumatic memories."

"Maybe," she just replied.

When Lydia opened her eyes again, the first thing she did was thank the swimming lessons her parents had forced her to go to since she was little. She had hated the monitor, who was throwing her against her will into the water; the other children, who were splashing water without stopping; and every second that she had spent there just because her parents wanted her to. But now, as she struggled not to drown in the middle of the sea, she could only remind herself that one day she would thank them for those sessions.

She looked around once more that day, trying to find some sign that she was not alone, that she had not been the only survivor of that catastrophe. She clung to a suitcase that she saw floating and that she recognized as hers —what a coincidence, she thought— but saw nothing else that might help her. She dragged it with all the strength she could while fighting the tide to stay afloat, and breathed a little more relieved when she saw that she began to make foot in the sand and that she reached the shore soon after.

Terribly tired, Lydia coughed a few times, expelling water from her lungs and wiped her lips on the sleeve of her shirt. She realized her hands were shaking when she reached out to open the suitcase, but stopped short when she heard screams behind her.

"Help! Help, please!" In this way Lydia forgot her belongings and ran towards the shore again, her skin coming into contact with the water again causing a displeased look on the young woman's face.

"It's okay, I got you," Lydia tried to calm the other girl, whose name she was sure she had heard on the plane but couldn't remember now. She grabbed her hand tightly so that she wouldn't run off into the sea, and suddenly remembered that it had been the girl who had proposed an icebreaker. "Shelby! You're Shelby, right?" The girl barely nodded as Lydia led her to the island.

Lydia coughed again, this time less insistently, and pulled back a little so the other girl had her space. Shelby lay on her back in the sand, her chest rising and falling frantically as she tried to catch her breath. "How do you... remember my name?"

"You're named after Tommy Shelby, that's quite hard to forget," Lydia gave her a small smile as the sun shrouded her eyes. Shelby looked at her with doubt in her eyes. "You don't know who Tommy Shelby is. Peaky Blinders? Doesn't matter. It's a TV show. Very famous where I'm from," The brit rambled and then cleared her throat, standing up. "You alright? What the bloody hell just happened?"

"I don't know. The plane crashed and we—"

"Girls! Girls, help!" Another voice was heard, this time a little further from the shore where Lydia had heard Shelby. They shared a look of alarm, and then the two girls started running toward the source of the voice. Martha, whose name Lydia later learned, floated near a whirlpool of water, and if they didn't catch up with her she would soon hit the rocks.

Once again Lydia was grateful for the ability to swim, otherwise she would have been paralyzed in the sand, watching the girl from Minnesota slowly drown. Shelby reached for Martha's arm as soon as Martha made contact with the sand, discovering shortly after that she had a sprained ankle and that she could not walk alone, so Lydia served as a shoulder support, and Shelby in the other.

"My ankle," Martha sobbed. Shelby busied herself lifting her sock to see how serious it was, and the two blonde girls had to look away: Martha's ankle was totally dislodged. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Shelby and Lydia looked at each other again; one afraid of being too kind, another afraid of going overboard with her words. "Nothing Shelby and I can't handle," Lydia gave her a friendly smile, shed her shirt, leaving her in just a tank top, and wrapped it around Martha's ankle, who let out a hiss of pain. "We'll look for something to ease the pain, don't sweat it."

They left shortly after, ready to take Martha somewhere where she could sit and rest. With adrenaline rushing through her veins, Lydia barely realized that what was to be a spiritual healing retreat had turned into her worst nightmare. The plane had stopped working, crashing into the sea, and she had only been paralyzed by fear, she had not reacted as the others had.

"Lydia! Lydia, oh my god. Are you okay?" She heard a voice behind her, but her body did not respond. She stood on the sidewalk, shaking like a chihuahua, her blue eyes lost in the road, in the parked car in the middle. She was breathing raggedly, as if she were going to collapse at any moment. "Look at me. What happened, Ly?"

But she couldn't get the words out that made sense. She felt arms wrap around her neck, pulling her close to calm her, but her eyes were still fixed on the pool of blood.

The blonde felt someone take Martha's weight from her arms, but she didn't react. She heard murmurs around her, but her mind was still detached from the present and anchored in the past. She felt the bile rise to her throat and she lost her balance.

"You okay there?" The girl who was now holding Martha looked at her with a frown.

"I— I've got to go."

The one from California did not wait for the others to answer, as another cry for help was heard from Dot's position, so they paid no more attention to what they assumed was a need to recover the lost air —and also the sanity, really. Lydia ran out as fast as her steps in the sand allowed, and soon the other three girls lost sight of her.

Lydia didn't stop running until she found a clearer area. Her ragged and fierce breathing, her wide eyes and her wet ponytail sticking to her neck made her look somewhat maniac, but the truth is that she only needed to get away from that scene a bit to feel better again. Despite the clearing in the woods she found, she felt suffocated, as if hands were preventing her from breathing properly, and immediately vomited the snack they had been offered on the plane.

She began to cry in despair, the salt of her tears mingling with her own saliva, the cold that she felt again once the shock had left her took its toll on her skin exposed to the wind.

She did not know for how long, but Lydia found a broad trunk to lean against, and she stayed in the same position, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her head on them.

"I counted ten before. We're missing one girl, guys," Dot announced aloud.

"Lydia took off as soon as you shouted she wasn't breathing," Martha explained. Her brow furrowed. "Should we be worried? It's been nearly an hour."

"How the hell do you let her just run away?" Rachel asked, clearly angry.

"Don't talk to her like that," Toni roared, but she understood that Rachel was right. They should have split up and helped both girls. "I'll go look for her. Maybe she's just lost. Nothing's happened to her, Marty."

"I'll go with you," Shelby volunteered. "We might find water, too."

When she opened her eyes for the second time that day, Lydia was once again faced with the feeling that she didn't know where she was. The trees prevented the sun from reaching her position, but she knew it was later than it had been when she had run off and cried herself to sleep. She stretched out her legs, feeling numb, and when she got up she felt everything spin around her. She leaned against the log until she felt better, and it was only then that she got back on her way.

She walked through the forest without really knowing where she was, as she had forgotten the path she had followed to enter, and she only prayed that she could find something that might be useful: some water, perhaps a place to spend the night.

Because Lydia knew perfectly well that they weren't going to find them overnight. Perhaps the most naive of them could believe that they would be coming for them in a heartbeat, but Lydia was convinced that this nightmare had only just begun and that none of them was prepared for what would happen in the next few days.

The British felt chills form on the skin of her neck when she heard noises in front of her. The bushes prevented her from seeing the scene, but she grabbed the closest branch she could find so she could defend herself. She braced herself for the worst: a wild animal, perhaps a snake, a hungry boar. She cursed under her breath something Shelby would not have liked to hear when she found her on the floor covering her face.

"Shit, Shelby. What happened to your face?"

The other blonde pursed her lips a little, drawing a tight smile on them. "I smacked into a tree, how silly of me, right?" The Texan saw how Lydia was still holding a branch and smiled to relax the atmosphere. "Were you going to hit me with that?"

Lydia chuckled. "I mean, I was. What are you doing here?"

"Someone had to look for you. You had us worried back there."

"Sorry," Lydia smiled sheepishly. "Let me clean that for you," she signaled her temple. "We wouldn't want your pretty jacket to get all bloody, would we?"

Shelby gulped as Lydia lifted her shirt slightly to wipe the blood from her wound. The Texan's eyes inevitably traveled from the Californian's sculpted abdomen to the intense blue of her eyes, still fixed on her wound. Shelby smiled a little to herself.

They returned to shore where the others were shortly after, Lydia grateful that Shelby had not asked questions about her condition, and the other blonde girl praying that the Brit did not press about her wound on her temple —because Shelby knew she had lied horribly bad.

"Hey, Lady Di!" Dot screamed as soon as she appeared from the woods with Shelby. "Where the fuck were you?"

"Sorry, girls. I just needed to clear my mind."

"Well, you don't get 'me time' alone anymore, got it?" Dot told her when she approached her in a rough voice, but Lydia felt that she was not scolding her, but rather understanding that she was nervous about the situation.

"Got ya."