Why Does Martha Feel Guilty In Olive'S Ocean?

When the flood hit, my husband, Patrick Holmes, who was part of the rescue team, stood between me and his first love, Victoria Clarke, torn with hesitation written all over his face. Without thinking twice, I shoved the only lifebuoy into Victoria's arms. In my previous life, Patrick had handed the lifebuoy to me instead and stayed behind with Victoria, choosing to die alongside her. Just before they both drowned, rescuers arrived in the nick of time and pulled him out, but Victoria didn't make it—she drowned that day. After that, he devoted himself completely to me, taking care of me in every moment of our daily lives. I had thought that the disaster made him cherish me more, but I was wrong—so terribly wrong. While I was hospitalized, Patrick unplugged my oxygen tank himself. He hissed, "If you hadn't insisted on going home to rest that day, I wouldn't have been torn on who to save, and she wouldn't have died. Now, you'll atone to her in the afterlife." I struggled helplessly as my vision blurred and death crept in. Then, everything went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the flood began.

When I was three years old, during a car accident, I was struck in the head by a car while trying to protect Mom. After that, the doctors said something inside my head had broken, and I'd never be quite right. Everyone back home called me the slow one. Late at night, I'd see her crying alone. On my seventh birthday, Mom took me to Manhattan, and that was when I discovered that she had a second home and another daughter, Charlotte. In front of strangers, she wouldn't claim me. She only let me call her Miss Eleanor. On the third night, She sat down at her vanity. On the table was a small black box. I thought it was a present. She opened the box and took out a black silicone bracelet, with a little light embedded in the clasp—small, dark, switched off. "This is called a TruthBand. It's something a company in California makes. The light turns green when you tell the truth, and red when you lie. If you wear this, Mommy will always know." She fastened it around my wrist. Tight. The little light blinked green. I thought that if I was good enough, she would love me the way she loved my sister. But then she made me do ski practice with Charlotte. Charlotte was a junior champion. "You're both my daughters. I don't play favorites. Whoever falls, gets punished." Charlotte never fell. I couldn't even keep my skis straight. Every single run, I was the one Mama dragged off the mountain and locked in the cellar. On Thanksgiving Day, Mama spent the whole afternoon cooking. I wanted to help. I dropped a bowl. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were red. She grabbed a little pill bottle off the counter, tipped my chin up, and forced something between my teeth. "Dumb as a rat. Are you happy now? Did you finally embarrass me enough? " I lay on the kitchen floor, gasping. While she wasn't looking, I scraped up three little pink pellets that had spilled and tucked them into my fist. Mommy, I told myself, I'll be good now, and then you'll be happy. Right?

The scholarship student, Izzy Waite, whom Craig Green had been funding, decided to seek some thrills by engaging in group intimacy in the open sea. They messed around in a way that drew blood and unintentionally attracted a shark. I risked my life to drag her back to shore. Once we made it to land, I warned her the ocean was full of bacteria and that she should get a check-up, just in case. She nodded and pretended to listen. However, the moment I turned my back, she ran to Craig, claiming I’d slandered her reputation. She even threatened to throw herself back into the ocean in some dramatic attempt to end it all. Craig was furious. Without giving me a chance to explain, he shoved me into the mouth of a massive, still-living shark. I beat against the inside of that monster’s stomach, screaming for help. The fishermen on the beach panicked at the sight. “Mr. Craig, please. This’ll kill her!” Craig simply held the weeping Izzy in his arms and sneered. “I heard people can survive inside a shark for a whole month. Doesn’t she love studying marine biology? Now, she can do some real research from inside.” Trapped in utter darkness, I curled up, gently cradling my belly. “Baby, this time, Mommy can’t protect you…” One month later, Craig finally came to gut the shark himself and bring me home. Unfortunately, all he found on the wind-swept shore was a skeleton.

In the third year of being locked up in a psychiatric hospital by Jonathan Fowler, I had already lost all of my vibrance and vitality. During a particularly harsh winter, Jonathan's new girlfriend, Charlotte Stewart, visits me in the hospital. She caresses my sunken cheek lovingly with one hand. "You must be Jon's legally-wedded wife, right?" I just stare at her in alert without saying anything. The next thing I know, Charlotte shoves me down the stairs. Her expression is already twisted into one of malice. "Everyone tells me that I'll get to marry Jonathan once you're dead, so just hurry up and die already!" I don't have any energy to fight back. After crashing onto the floor, I'm left bleeding and broken. After struggling in the operating theater for one full day, I managed to survive the ordeal. With red-rimmed eyes, Jonathan rushes into the ward and grasps my hand. "Mallory, I promise that if you agree to stay alive and not pin the crime of manslaughter on Charlotte, I can let bygones be bygones! In fact, I won't disturb you anymore for the rest of your life!" I don't have the strength to respond to Jonathan. That's when the System, which has stayed silent for a very long time, suddenly speaks in my mind. [Congratulations. You've maxed out the male lead's guilt. You may now leave this world.] I secretly let out a sigh of relief. Finally, I can go home.

Not long after getting married to my husband, he says he wants to teach me how to scuba dive. My leg cramps when I'm practicing alone in the deep sea. However, my husband, a swimming instructor, chooses to save his unattainable love—she's jumped into the sea to commit suicide. I don't ask him for help. Instead, I allow myself to slowly sink. In my past life, I stopped my husband from leaving. He saved me with gnashed teeth and allowed his first love, Millie Quirke, to drown. By the time he went to save her, she'd already disappeared in the water. He comforted me and told me it was okay, that he was glad he'd saved me. However, one night, he brought me back to the seaside. Just as I let my guard down, he grabbed my neck and plunged my face into the water. Then, he dragged me out before I could suffocate. "You were just cramping—it would've passed! But Millie got dragged away by the current because of you! You can remain in the ocean with her!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day I was scuba diving.

By six, Amelia had whipped up a six-dish dinner with soup—Chad Felton's favorites, of course. By seven, she'd prepped his bath, complete with rose petals and candles. By eight, his slippers were perfectly lined up by the door. At nine, Chad finally strolled in. Amelia stepped up, taking his suit jacket. "Eat first or bathe?" she asked, setting the slippers in front of him and hanging the jacket. "Bathe," he muttered, eyes glued to his phone.