Ten-1
2155 Words
As each day turns into night, my tie to reality seems to slip. Being here, it’s easy to forget that the outside world exists. I can close my eyes at night and forget what I am…and that’s thanks to her. But I can’t forget—it’s too dangerous if I do.
No matter how much I want to touch her, I need to remember she doesn’t belong to me…no matter how badly I want her to. I see the way she looks at me, but I have to be strong. Yet with each day, it’s getting harder and harder not to own her…mind, body, and soul.
Day 15WE’VE BEEN STUCK on this island for five days, and during those five days, we’ve fallen into a routine. When I wake at sunrise, I stretch out my sore muscles. The hard floor of the hut isn’t any softer, no matter how many leaves I use as a buffer.
Scaling down the rope, I’m still a little shaky but getting more confident every day. I venture through the terrain confidently as I’m familiar with the twists and turns. I barely need the markers anymore, and I know it’ll only be a few more days until I know the route like the back of my hand.
When I reach the shore, I smile. Harriet Pot Pie eventually got used to her coop. She is usually waiting for me with an egg as my good morning greeting. Saint sleeps by the fire, refusing to sleep in the hut with me, which is sensible. It would be weird to snuggle up to him, I suppose, but I do get lonely at night.
He’s awake before me, ensuring a breakfast of coconuts and fish by the time I arrive. He asks how I slept, and I always reply with fine. I ask how his wound is. He mimics my response. Once we’re done, he takes off into the rocky terrain, looking for a way off this island. So far, he’s had no luck.
I bathe, and sometimes, I clean out the hut. I talk to Harriet Pot Pie a lot. I gather supplies in case Saint changes his mind, and we end up making an SOS sign. But as the days turn into nights, it’s clear that even if someone rescues us, where does that leave me?
Overall, the monotony of everything leaves me restless and desperate for change.
When night falls, Saint returns with fish and coconut, and sometimes berries. We eat and talk a little but nothing personal. It seems when he opened up about where he lived, that was a one night only sort of deal. We drink some rum before I go back to the hut. In a sense, I feel like a prisoner once again. I offer to hunt for food, but he warns me to stay away from the waters near the lagoon. I don’t know why.
This morning, I wake, hoping by some miracle that something will change. I make my way down the rope, walking on autopilot as I trek through the familiar terrain. Harriet Pot Pie is in her coop, clucking happily when she sees me.
I gather the egg before picking her up and carrying her to the beach with me. Saint sits by the fire with his legs stretched out in front of him as he does a sudoku puzzle. He must have bathed already as his hair is wet and he’s changed into his makeshift cargo shorts and a black shirt that he’s ripped the sleeves off.
He peers up at me when I arrive. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” I reply, passing him the egg. I place Harriet Pot Pie onto the beach, allowing her to peck around while I sit on the sand, drawing my knees toward my chest.
I watch as he cracks the egg into the shell of a coconut and scrambles it with a stick over the fire. “I was thinking,” he starts, eyes focused on our breakfast. “I want to try to make a raft.”
“Out of what?” I ask, curious.
“Whoever was here before us built that hut. I’m pretty sure I can construct something that will keep us afloat until we find a ship or mainland.”
“And then what?” When he is silent, I shake my head, not liking this plan at all. “And then you call Popov?”
“I don’t have a choice. You know that,” he replies, finally meeting my eyes.
I was stupid to think that by some miracle he would change his mind. There is no happily ever after for me. The truth is, I’m safer here, shipwrecked on this island, than being rescued. How ironic is that?
I’m hurt. I don’t want to be, but after five days together, I thought he’d show some humanity. Clearly, I was wrong.
Standing abruptly, I wipe the sand from my legs. I need some space as I feel like I’m about to burst into tears.
“Where are you going?” He pauses from scrambling the egg.
“To get some fresh air,” I snap, furious at myself for thinking these past five days made a difference.
“What about breakfast?”
“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” I spit, turning on my heel.
“Don’t be childish,” he has the nerve to say. “You can be angry with me on a full stomach.”
“f**k you and your food, Saint.” I storm off, infuriated beyond belief. I can’t believe nothing has changed. I feel betrayed and am angry with myself for thinking he transformed into a civil human being.
As I walk along the shore, I peer into the distance, wishing an answer would appear and solve my problem. Nothing does. I’m on my own—but that’s no different. I walk for what feels like forever, and when I reach the lagoon, which I’ve seen in passing when looking for Saint, his words of warning echo loudly.
“Stay away from the waters near the lagoon.”
I never really questioned it because I thought this was where Saint came when he needed some downtime. The hut was my hideaway, so I respected his request. But I’ve been stupid to show this man any respect because he sure as s**t hasn’t shown the same to me.
I continue walking, anger fueling my every step. I can see why he likes it here. The bright coral comes to life underwater, a gateway into another world. The sun is already blistering, so I decide to take a swim and disobey everything he told me about staying away.
Stripping off my shorts and tank, I venture into the water, gasping as it’s a few degrees cooler than the water down the beach. Regardless, it feels incredible against my heated skin. I continue walking into deeper water, my anger fading, submerging with each step I take.
I want to believe that his small acts of kindness are his way of expressing he cares, but I’m an i***t. I dive into the water, swimming away from my stupidness because he doesn’t care. He never did. All I am, all I’ve ever been is a means to an end…my bad for forgetting that.
I don’t know how far I’ve swum, but it feels good to let go. I come up for air, bobbing in the water as I peer around me. I’m surrounded by nothing. As I’m treading water, a faint echo sounds. Disregarding it, I float on my back, peering up at the sun.
It’s beautiful out here. I wish I could enjoy it without this constant heaviness weighing me down. I close my eyes, sighing. However, a moment later, I am certain I can hear someone shouting. But that’s impossible.
I try to block it out, but it’s soon apparent that I’m not hearing things.
Saint is no doubt shooing me out of his sacred place as he evidently doesn’t want to share his special place with me. Springing up, I shield the sun from my eyes, ready to tell him what I think of his demands, but I must be seeing things because I’m certain I see Saint ripping off his shirt, then diving into the water.
He’s shouting something. I don’t know what. However, when he comes up for air and cups his mouth, screaming, “Swim…shark!” I realize I’m not seeing or hearing anything because when I turn over my shoulder, I see a gray fin in the distance.
Time stands still.
My entire body goes into hyperdrive, and I frantically swim to the shore. I’m a strong swimmer, but I’m a long way out, and there is no way I can outswim a shark. My muscles burn as I kick my legs. I tell myself not to look back and continue forward, but the shore is barely a speck in the distance.
Saint swims toward me, but we’re still miles apart. I’m waiting to be dragged under as a meal for yet another predator. That’s all I seem to be. But I won’t give up.
The adrenaline whooshes through my ears, my breathing heavy as I desperately attempt to fill my lungs with enough oxygen to save my life. I’m certain I’m on the verge of having a heart attack from punishing my body this way and from the fear of being eaten alive.
I focus on Saint and how he looks like an athlete as he closes the distance between us. But surely, he’s too late. Any moment now, it’s my time…but my time never comes.
“Swim, ahгел!”
That name sparks a fire in my belly, and I push with all my might. It gives me the strength to swim faster than I’ve ever swum before. Within moments, I reach Saint, who quickly turns to swim back to shore. He stays close to me, guarding me until we reach land. When I can touch the ocean floor, I breathlessly stand and run frantically toward safety.
Saint does the same.
The moment my feet touch sand, I flop to the ground, sobbing and breathing uncontrollably. Saint drops to his knees, brushing the wet hair from my cheeks, his eyes searching over every inch of me. “You’re okay,” he reassures me and also himself.
I’m too far gone to have any control over my emotions, and I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in the crook of his neck. Being pressed this close brings home the fact I almost died, and I burst into fresh tears.
Saint surprises me when he wraps his arms around me cautiously before crushing me into his chest. “I told you to stay out of these waters. Why don’t you listen?”
“Wh-why didn’t y-you tell m-me?” I choke on my raspy breaths.
“Because I didn’t want to worry you,” he replies, pressing his lips to the top of my head as he drags me onto his lap.
“You’ve be-been fishing these waters?” I ask, but he doesn’t need to answer. He’s been risking his life so I could eat. Why? None of this makes any sense.
His heart pounds against me, rivaling mine. But I soon don’t know if my racing heart is from the adrenaline coursing through me or the fact I’m pressed against Saint so intimately. He smells incredible, and on instinct, I inhale deeply. I’ve wanted to do this since I first smelled his unique scent.
A groan escapes me, and everything tightens. I want him so badly, and even though I can pretend it’s because I almost died, it’s not. I’ve wanted him since the first moment he touched me. And I want him to touch me again.
“You’re letting me touch you,” I whisper. He usually steers clear of being touched.
“I like…you touching me,” he confesses, which rips a gasp from my lungs. “You will not go into these waters again, okay?”
“Okay. But neither will you,” I add. I won’t have him risking his life so I can eat. We will find somewhere else to fish.
The moment settles, and my heart rate eventually returns to normal.
When I realize I’m still clinging to him, I regrettably peel my arms from him. When he releases me, I bite my lip to mute the saddened cry. “You called me ahгел.”
He pulls back, surprised.
“You haven’t called me that for days.”
He clears his throat, shuffling back a fraction, but I’m still perched on his lap. “You told me not to call you that.”
“What does it mean?”
A wall suddenly erects between us, and anything beautiful we just shared fades to the wind. “Come on, let’s go.” He gently shifts me off his lap and stands.
I, however, stay seated, unbelieving that after everything, this bullshit still exists between us. “No, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what it means.”
“Why does it matter?” he questions, running a hand through his wet hair.
“I need to know because maybe it’ll give me a clue into how you feel about me!”
Saint takes a step back, clearly stunned.
But I’m done. My close call with death has obliterated the filter on my mouth.
Launching up, I cry, “Am I just collateral to you? Do you even care what happens to me when we arrive in Russia?”
He turns his cheek, his jaw clenched. “You know what this is,” he grits out. But I don’t believe him.
- Writer
