It's funny what you hold on to, the things your remember when everything ends. I can still picture the paneling on the walls of our stateroom and recall precisely how plush the carpet was. I remember the saltwater smell, permeating the air and sticking to my skin, and the sound of my brother's laughter in the other room, like the storm was an exciting adventure instead of a nightmare.

More than any sense of fear or worry, there was an air of irritation hanging bin the room. The storm was throwing off our evening's plans; there would be no dancing on the upper deck tonight, no chance to parade around in my new dress. These were the worst that plagued my life then, so insignificant they're almost shameful to own up to. But you were by my side," she said with a smile.

Those were my mother's last words to me.

Even as I opened my mouth to pretest, I found myself standing up and crossing the cabin to follow her. It wasn't just about obeying anymore. I had to get up on deck. I had to be closer to the song. If I had stayed in our room, I probably would have been trapped and gone down with the ship. Then I could have joined my family. In heaven or hell, or in nowhere, if it was all a lie. But no.

We went up the stairs, joined along the way by scores of other passengers. It was then I knew something was wrong. Some of the passengers were rushing, fighting their way through the masses, while others looked like they were sleepwalking.

I stepped into the thrashing rain, pausing just outside the threshold to take in the scene. Pressing my hands over my ears to shut out the crashing thunder and hypnotic music, I tried to get my bearings. Two men shot past me and jumped overboard without even pausing. The storm wasn't so bad we needed to abandon ship, was it?

I looked to my youngest brother and saw him lapping up the rain, like a wildcat clawing at raw meat. When someone near him tried to do the same, they scrapped with each other, fighting over the drops. I backed away, turning to search for my middle brother. I never found him. He was lost in the crowd surging toward the water, gone before I could make sense of what I was witnessing.

Then I saw my parents, hand it hand, their backs against the railing, casually tipping themselves overboard. They smiled. I screamed.

What was happening? Had the world gone mad?

A note caught my ear, and I dropped my hands, my fear and worries fading away as the song took hold. It did seem like it would be better to be in the water, embraced by the waves instead of pelted by rain. It sounded delicious. I needed to drink it. I needed to fill my stomach, my heart, my lungs with it.

With that sole desire pulsing through me, I walked toward the metal rails. It would be a pleasure to drink myself full until every blast piece of me was sated. I was barely aware of hoisting myself over the side, barely aware of anything, until the hard smack of water on my face brought me back to my senses.

I was going to die.

*No*! I thought as I fought to get back to the surface. *I'm not ready! I want to live*! Nineteen years was not enough. There were still so many foods to taste and places to visit.

A husband, I hoped, and a family. All of it, everything, gone in a split second.

Really?

I didn't have time to doubt reality of the voice I was hearing. Yes!

*What would you give to stay alive*?

*Anything*!

In an instant, I was dragged out of the fray. It was as if an arm was looped around my waist, pulling with precision as I shot past body after body until I was free of them. I soon found myself lying on my back, staring up at three inhumanly lovely girls.

For a moment, all my horror and confusion disappeared. Three was no storm, no family, no fear. All that ever had been or ever would be were these beautiful, perfect faces, I squinted, studying them, making the only guess that seemed possible.

“Are you angels?” I asked. “Am I dead?”

The closest girl, who had eyes as green as the emeralds in Mama's earrings and brilliant red hair that billowed around her face, bent down. “You're very much alive,” she promised, her voice tinted with a British accent.

I gaped at her. If I was still alive, wouldn't my eyes be burning from the water? Wouldn't I still be feeling the sting on my face from where I fell? Yet I felt perfect, complete. I was either dreaming or dead. I had to be.

In the distance, I could hear screams. I lifted my head, and just over the waves I spotted the tail of our ship as it bobbed surreally out of the water.

I look several ragged breaths, too confused to grasp how I was still breathing, all the while listening to others drown around me.

“What do you remember?” she asked.

I shook my head. “The carpet.” I searched my memories, already feeling them becoming distant and blurry. “And my mother's hair,” I said, my voice cracking, “Then I was in the water.”

“Did you ask to live?”

“I did,” I sputtered, wondering if she could read my mind or if everyone else had thought it, too. “Who are you?”

“I'm Marilyn,” she replied sweetly. “This is Aisling.” She pointed to a blind girl who gave me a small, warm smile. “And that is Nombeko.” Nombeko was a dark as the night sky and appeared to have nearly no hair at all.

“We're singers, Sirens. Servants to the Ocean,” Marilyn explained. “What would the Ocean eat?”