“If you go into the water, it will take your life. We are cursed to never enter the ocean.” My mother’s words echoed in my mind as I recalled a specific memory. We had been standing on the beach, staring out at the wide, open ocean.

Just like I am now.

“Why? Why can’t we go into the water?” I remembered my seven-year-old self asking.

“Like I said, we are cursed. Over two hundred years ago, one of our ancestors did something despicable and doomed his entire bloodline. A sea witch warned him never to enter the ocean again, or he – and all his descendants – would perish. And every time one of us has gone in and survived, someone else in the family has paid the price.”

“Is that what happened to big brother?”

My mother didn’t answer. She only stared at the ocean, her expression caught between anger and pain.

Then she looked down at me, squeezed my small hand, and said, “Never forget. Our bloodline’s curse will follow you, and your children, for all time.” After that, we left the sunny beach and the foaming shoreline behind. From that day on, I feared the ocean. I wouldn’t even dare touch it.

Over the next five years, I would come to see the full extent of our family’s curse.

My cousin Berthe grew stronger – unnaturally strong – excelling in school sports, even taking down boys twice her size. Meanwhile, her brother Henry grew weaker by the day.

“You stepped into that ocean, didn’t you? You brought that curse back with you!” I still remember my uncle Lau’s booming voice from that fateful night. The adults had gathered at my parent’s house. I was in my room, drawing, when the shouting began.

“I did no such thing!” Berthe cried. “I don’t know why this is happening!”

“Look at your brother!” my aunt Anne shouted. “Look at how he wastes away while you grow stronger!”

“I bet you’ve been praying to the devil so you can steal your brother’s strength!” Lau spat.

I could hear Berthe sobbing from the living room. I remember how tense I felt, frozen in place.

“I-I told you, I didn’t do anything,” she stammered.

“This curse is going to tear this family apart!” my grandmother yelled.

Then, cutting through the chaos, came Blake’s, my uncle-in-law’s, voice. “Surely none of you truly believe this is Berthe’s fault. She has never wished harm on her brother.”

“You are an outsider,” Lau said coldly. “And you have no children. You wouldn’t understand.”

Then came silence – heavy and suffocating – followed by the sharp slam of the front door.

I never saw Blake again after that night.

When I later tried to pry answers from my mother, she only said, “Don’t worry about him anymore. He never understood our family. It’s for the best.”

“What about Berthe and Henry?” I asked. She refused to answer. It took a year before she finally gave in, after I kept asking when we didn’t see them during the holidays.

“Henry was admitted to the hospital,” she said. “His body couldn’t handle the outside world anymore. He’s being well taken care of.”

She hesitated before continuing.

“As for Berthe… she went overseas for college. Now you have your answers. Stop pestering me.”

Even then, I knew she wasn’t telling me everything.

It would take decades before I learned the truth.

About Henry, she hadn’t lied.

But about Berthe… what she said was far from the truth.

One day, I found out by accident. I matched with Berthe’s daughter through an ancestry website, and after reconnecting, I finally learned what really happened.

Berthe hadn’t gone overseas.

She had been institutionalized.

She was seventeen – still under her parents’ legal control – and in the 1970s, that was enough. With the support of a family doctor, and testimony that she was “hysterical,” “dangerous,” and “harming her brother,” the paperwork was signed. Before she realized it, she was admitted.

However, when she turned eighteen, her case was re-evaluated, and the doctors found no justification for keeping her. So, they released her. She cut off all contact with the family and disappeared, building a new life somewhere far away.

Hearing that broke something in me. I had always believed Lau and Anne were kind people – charitable, devoted parents. But I suppose that was only the surface. A mask to hide what lay underneath.

Next, came the truth that changed everything. As if my reality wasn’t shattered enough.

The curse wasn’t real.

It never had been.

It was only a myth – one used to explain something they didn’t understand.

However, I couldn’t take Berthe’s word for it. I needed to know for myself. Because I had a secret of my own.

For years, I blamed myself for my brother’s drowning. As I grew older, I noticed I was getting stronger… heavier. It made me question everything. I wondered if I had somehow taken his strength, if that was why he died.

I never told anyone.

Not my mother. Not anyone.

I was too consumed by guilt, and too afraid of losing my family’s love. Even after learning the truth, I didn’t know how to feel.

Now I stood on the warm sand, waves crashing before me, dread curling quietly in my chest. Beside me, resting on my bag, were my lab results. I had read them a dozen times. I had an LRP5 genetic mutation, a rare condition that could cause either extremely high bone mass or dangerously low bone density.

There was no curse.

Only genetics – playing cruel, uneven games.

And yet… the fear remained.

“You ready?” The instructor’s voice pulled me back to the present. I turned to Zaire, who smiled encouragingly. For over twenty-five years, I had avoided the ocean.

Today, I chose to face it.

With my new understanding of my genetic mutation, I thought I would try to learn how to swim – with help of course, and Zaire was a professional swim instructor. She had been briefed on my condition, and we were going to take things slow.

I nodded and followed her into the water. I put on a life jacket, and we brought a surfboard for support.

The water was cold. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to turn back.

I froze.

“It’s okay,” Zaire said gently. “I’ve got you. Take your time.”

I took a deep breath, just like I’d practiced in therapy, and stepped forward.

Then another.

Soon, we were waist-deep. Fear wrapped around me so tightly it almost felt unreal, like I was watching myself from somewhere above.

We moved farther out, until my feet barely touched the ground.

“Alright,” Zaire said. “Let’s try some kicks.” I followed her instructions.

But I felt so heavy. As if the ocean itself were pulling me down, dragging me toward the depths.

The curse is real, my thoughts screamed.

My breathing quickened.

Panic surged.

I flailed.

“It’s okay! I’m here – you’re safe!” Zaire’s soothing voice cut through the noise. “You’ve got your life jacket. You’re okay.”

I forced myself to breathe. To kick. To keep moving.

“You’re doing great,” she said. I managed a thin smile, though I didn’t feal great.

Time passed slowly, the waves rocking us back and forth.

Eventually, we made our way back to shore. I collapsed onto the sand, exhausted, staring up at the blue, cloud-streaked sky.

I was alive.

Relieved. Maybe even a little victorious.

But the guilt still lingered.

Though I understood the science behind my condition, it still felt like the curse was real.