After Dying in My Best Friend's Conspiracy, I was Reborn

Just as I was about to throw in the towel completely, the coach slipped a life vest over my head.

I found myself drifting alone on the open sea, that suffocating drowning sensation creeping back up my throat.

I dug my nails into my palms, using the pain to keep myself grounded, to stay present.

Thankfully, the rescue boat arrived quickly. I tossed the coach the key and let the rescue boat haul me aboard, back to solid ground.

As I stumbled off, Rachel called after me.

I turned back with a bitter smirk, my swollen lips barely parting.

"When your phone's charged up again, do me a favor and grab the latest iPhone, okay? I'll come back to get it from you when I'm done having fun."

Heh, if you even make it back at all.

In my past life, I'd shared that viral story about the Lowe family's playboy son showering his date with a million bucks.

Rachel was busy trying to figure out if this Lowe guy was the same dude she'd been chatting with online.

Meanwhile, my girl Jess, who works in media, was filling me in on the juicy backstory.

Turns out, that headline-grabbing stunt was just a smokescreen to distract from the Lowe kid's real crimes.

He did hand out those million-dollar bills, but it was hush money, a twisted apology.

Because three girls died that night, their bodies dumped into the sea by the blackout drunk guys after they were...done playing with them.

The women who boarded that cruise were all lured under the guise of meeting an online match.

When they hit the shore, the surf instructor would take them for a test run first.

Once their makeup was smudged, the surf instructor would check if the girls were still attractive.

When their clothes clung to their bodies, the surf instructor would size up their physiques.

If she could still handle a full lap, she passed the fitness test.

The beauties who made the cut were then escorted to the ship, to become prey for Ethan and his pack.

Some fought back, some begged, some just screamed.

But to those animals, it was music to their ears.

It was a boys' trip, a waking nightmare for the girls.

In my past life, I was about to tell Rachel how lucky we were to have skipped out.

But when I turned around, her face was twisted with rage as she shoved me, hard, into the churning waves.

I stumbled home a hot mess, hair tangled, clothes caked in grime. I probably looked like death warmed over.

Rachel's boyfriend, Shawn, was waiting at my door and jumped about a foot in the air when he saw me.

Lucky for me, my place is a stand-alone, with no nosy neighbors around to gawk at my sorry state.

I had Shawn settle the cab fare, then as soon as it peeled out, he rounded on me. "What the hell happened to you? I've been blowing up Rachel's phone—she said she was coming here. Where is she?"

I ushered him inside, shut the door, then crumpled to the floor, hugging myself as I broke down. "Guys—so many of them. Rachel went off with them. I tried to stop her but they...they jumped me."

Shawn's fist smashed into the painting by the door. He loomed over me, finger jabbing the air. "You're her best friend! How could you just let her go like that? If anything happens to her, you're gonna pay, you hear me?"

After laying down his threat, Shawn stormed out, having gotten the address.

I peeled off my clothes and stood under the hottest water I could stand.

I iced my swollen face, then remembered Jessica saying the cruise ship was supposed to dock at dawn.

I blew up Jessica's phone, then Shawn's, rounding up him and his boy.

We agreed to meet at the docks and wait it out.

As the ship pulled in, my heart pounded in my ears. This was it.

I wish Rachel had sunk to the bottom of the sea, allowing her death to atone for the sins she committed in a past life.

Yet, a part of me also hopes she's alive, enduring countless agonies.

As the cruise ship docked, it had an eerie, abandoned feel to it, with not a soul in sight.

Jessica was the most eager to investigate; she hurried aboard, camera in hand.

Shawn and his buddy followed close behind. Once onboard, I overheard an incredulous voice, "Dude, even the rich know how to party."

"Shawn, is that Rachel? What the—"