Wheeling Gull Isle sour handover

Lightning snarls across the sky, a white-hot flash that lights up the scorned expression of Daddy and the terrified one of little Dinah. Her tail tucks between her legs, and for a good moment, she's frozen. What is that? she mewls, voice somewhere between a whisper and a shout—
BOOM.
It's awfully close, that time, just above the clenched fist of the waves that roar and reach for her and her father.
The tears are soon to come after, right about when she gets shoved. Desperately, her little paws wrap around his neck and cling for dear life — completely unaware that she's much too old for such a gesture and is more than likely weighing him down.
She is overwhelmed and stricken with weeks worth of fear and shame and disappointment. God is angry with her; He is so angry, so so angry, and what seals this idea in her head is another bolt that flashes in front of her eyes.
She is overwhelmed, and all she can do is cry.
I'm scared! I'm sorry! I'm sorry-y-y! She all but wails, eyes clenched shut as her little cheeks flush pink. She wasn't even quite sure who she was apologizing to or what for. All she knew was that she was sorry and that she didn't want to die.