My skirt kept wrapping around my legs, acting like ropes dragging me down.
So I kicked it free.
My blouse kept billowing around my face when the current shoved me left and right, suffocating me.
So I yanked it off and let it sink.
By the time my bone-weary toes touched reef, I had nothing left—in belongings or energy.
Reef became sand, and sand became beach.
Crawling on my hands and knees, I traded saltwater and, once again, let needles of rain wash me clean. I collapsed with my cheek on wet gold granules, panting and gasping, protected only by a black bikini.
I didn’t know where the parrot was. The kayak. My carefully packed supplies.
It was just me.
I survived.
Hauling myself to all fours, I eyed the treeline.
So far. Too far.
And in that moment, in some twist of nasty fate, the rain eased a little.
The wind died a little.
The storm hushed into quiet.
My elbows buckled, and I welcomed the soft beach to hold me.
I stayed where I was as the sun speared through empty grey clouds.
Its tentative rays warmed my back, soothing weak and weary muscles.
And I slept.
* * * * *
Thirst and sunburn woke me.
Guessing by the sun’s location in the sky, a few hours had passed since I’d been washed up on this new island. Despite all my attempts at preparing for my escape, my pride at packing rations, and my determination not to be like the other girls who’d run before me, I’d fallen into the same trap.
I’d run from one island, only to be trapped on another. Yet this one didn’t have shade or food or liquid that wasn’t tainted with salt.
I have nothing.
Stumbling up the beach and into the undergrowth, I winced and gasped as sharp twigs and bracken stabbed my bare feet. Hunger drove me forward, but thirst made me panic.
I’d had my last drink before the storm hit.
Not that long ago, but thanks to inhaling sea and pushing my body to the brink of disability, I craved something to drink.
It was all I could think about.
The only thing I wanted.
My sunburned face hurt as I squinted in the sun’s glare, popping out from the undergrowth to a cleared area. No sounds of rivers. No hints of habitation. No one to help.
Tripping forward, I wrapped my arms around myself—not for warmth as the humidity had well and truly returned—but for shade on my rapidly burning skin. Without sunscreen, my white flesh crisped like crackling.
Cutting across the clearing, I struggled to see anything thanks to the brightness of the sun. My eyes stung from seawater. My hair clung to my back in tangled ropes. I coughed against the soreness in my throat leftover from swimming in a raging storm.
Reaching the other side, I gladly ducked under a glossy bush and back into the shady undergrowth.
Looking back, I froze.
A windsock hung in the now non-existent breeze.
The clearing wasn’t natural but man-made.
A helipad.
Sully.
The moment he entered my mind, my knees wobbled, and I collapsed cross-legged in the dirt.
Would he come for me?
Half of my body hummed with hope that he cared enough to search for me even though I’d defied him and left, while the other half of me went icy with dread.
If he did find me…what would he do?
Would he hurt me?
Kill me?
I shivered in my pile of leaves, willing my logic to wake up and lecture me. I’d always been fairly good at assessing a situation and choosing the most coherent and rational answer. I’d chosen to travel with Scott, even though we’d only known each other for a little while, because his goals aligned with mine, and it was safer to travel as a duo rather than as a single girl.
I’d decided to stop being naïve after the bonfire where the boy forced himself on me and I’d enlisted the help of my friend’s sister to drive us away.
I prided myself on accepting my mistakes…if it meant I could salvage something from my screw-up.
And in a nutshell? I’d screwed up.
I shouldn’t have left Sully’s captivity. I should’ve known I wasn’t a qualified seafarer to get far enough to be found and rescued. I should’ve fought for my future in other ways.
But…I’d tried and failed, and now, I had another choice to make.
Stay hidden and hope I didn’t die from exposure, dehydration, and starvation.
Or…let him find me, accept the consequences, and fight for whatever came next.
Time skipped and looped as I remained sitting there, tearing a leaf into shreds, debating if death was preferable over being a glamorised whore for the next four years.
I’d like to be more of a martyr and choose an ending over the acquiesce of letting men use my body against me. But…I was a fighter. A survivor. The sea had spat me out to give me a second chance.
And Sully…
He’s my second chance.
I sighed as the decisions settled weighty and wrong around my heart. By staying here, waiting for him, I willingly relinquished myself. I would return with him of my own volition unlike when I’d first arrived.