There’s a boat outside.
It emerged from the dense fog surrounding the island as if it came from an entirely different dimension.
I stare out at the large ship, slowly drifting by, a longing feeling that sorrowfully bleeds into hopelessness.
They’ll never see us from there. Not with this fog that seems to drench this tiny little pocket of earth floating in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
Sylvester says there’s going to be another storm tonight, and according to the radar, it could be worse than the one last week.
I swallow, my heart withering as it passes the island. Maybe if I could get to the light, I would’ve been able to figure out a way to turn it on and beckon the ship to us. I’m not entirely sure it would’ve cut through the fog, but it’s better than standing outside my cave, watching it drift by.
What-the-fuck-ever. We’ve been on the island for nineteen days now, but Sylvester had said the ship came by a few days before we wrecked. That leaves about eight before it comes by again, and we can get the hell off.
Do you even want to?
I bite my lip, turning away from the fucking tease that just passed by. Do I?
Is it really feasible to stay here with Sylvester? The man truly gives me the creeps, but I hardly see him as long as I make myself scarce.
Or are you just trading one prison for another?
I’m trapped in other people’s lives. Tangled in the web of names carefully selected by loving mothers and fathers. Or maybe they weren’t loved at all. Maybe they weren’t even wanted.
Just like Enzo.
I sniff, still put off from last week. I feel like my insides have been scraped raw, and every time I feel an emotion swelling, it rubs painfully against the open wound. I drank too much. Shared too much. Then caused more pain. And now I’m left with the tattered remains.
Enzo and I have barely spoken, and much to my dismay, Sylvester has used that opportunity to get me to spend time with him instead. But I tolerate it anyway because bad company is still better than being left alone with Kev in my head.
I don’t like attachments, but I cling to those who offer something meaningless.
Until Enzo, at least.
Last night, the mounting tension finally broke me. So I whittled some vodka in a water bottle and stayed up all night sucking it down while Enzo slept beside me.
I came so close to reaching out to him, getting down on my knees, and begging for his forgiveness. I don’t know why or how, but I fucking miss him.
I prefer his fire over ice, his anger over silence, and his hate over indifference.
I would take the worst of him if it meant I never had to go without him.
Sighing, I stand and amble down into the cave, tripping over a loose rock that crumbles beneath my unstable feet. I’m still feeling the ramifications of that vodka, and every breath stokes the urge to empty the contents of my stomach onto the floor.
Never. Again.
Fuck alcohol. It never gets me anywhere good. It got me caught up in Enzo’s arms, to begin with, and seems to keep bringing me back—and every time, it’s a colossal mistake.
I stumble again, tripping over my toe and just scarcely catching myself. Jesus, I need a fucking walker. I’m pretty sure I’m still a little drunk.
When I heard the snick of the door unlocking this morning, I was out of the lighthouse within a few minutes, which means it’s just after seven AM now. My sleep was fitful and entirely frustrating. Even in a catatonic state, the tension is impenetrable and refuses to budge.
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I jumped out of the warm blankets, threw on my only pair of shorts and a random t-shirt I found on the ground, and hightailed it out of there. I felt his eyes on me the entire time, but I refused to meet them.
I’m angry, and I’m not even sure why anymore. I shouldn’t give him the power to hurt me, but I’ve always been malleable to him. He draws me in, uses my body against me, and then shuts me down seconds later, leaving me bereft and feeling colder than before.
He’s just… he’s just a fucking asshole.
My skin glows an aqua hue as I emerge into the cave, the glowworms wriggling above me. I’ve come here every day since I discovered this place, and it still takes my fucking breath away.
“Hi there, friends,” I call out gently, even going as far as to wriggle a finger at them affectionately. I only sweet-talk them because I don’t want one of them to drop in my mouth unexpectedly.
Though I suspect if I do take refuge here, I’ll grow so lonely that I’ll make them talk back.
I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, I guess.
Instead of resting by the water and dipping my toes in like I usually do, I bypass the pool and head toward the back end of the cave. For the past couple of days, I’ve been pushing to see how far I can go. The uncertainty clings because I’m still convinced there’s a chance some otherworldly creature will crawl out from the depths and slaughter me, but if this place can foster glowworms and an underground pool, then I’m curious if there’s more to discover.
I stumble again but manage to right myself easier this time. The dizziness is beginning to recede, though nausea lingers. I’m hoping to sweat the rest of the toxins out, walk back into that lighthouse later, look Enzo in the eye, and not feel like hurling.
I trek through the opening until I reach an uneven path. At the end, it drops down about ten feet into a cavern. That’s where it gets rocky. Literally and figuratively.
Nevertheless, once I reach the bottom, it’ll flatten out and lead into another tunnel. I’ve gotten as far down to the mouth of it but haven’t ventured past that. Before, I chalked it up to not having proper lighting, but this time I brought the pocket-sized flashlight Sylvester had let me use previously.
It won’t offer a substantial amount of visibility, but I think it’ll take me as far as my courage reaches, which won’t be very far. I’ll also need to build that up slowly and find a bigger flashlight. But I have over a week to accomplish that, and even longer if I decide to stay.
I sit on the edge of the hole and point my toe toward the nearest rock. Slowly, I make my way down, eventually sliding out the flashlight as I descend deeper into the cavern, the air growing icier.
My breath clouds around me as I reach the bottom with a satisfied grin. That wasn’t so bad.
Kev and I grew up in the mountains in Nevada, so I’ve always loved hiking, but I was never stupid enough to do it hungover.
I frown, then shrug my shoulders. If I die, I die.
I clamber into the tunnel, wiping sweat from my brow as I dart the light around, feeling a little creeped out. This is where the intrusive thoughts come in.
What if they’re flesh-eating vampires? What if we’ve been invaded by aliens, and this is their home base? What if there are mutated glowworms in here that grew ten feet tall and have a taste for blonde girls?
I shudder, pushing those thoughts away, delighted when the tunnel ends, and I come out to another open area. No creatures to speak of, but there are glowworms down here, too. I grin, craning my neck and walking aimlessly as I stare up at the tiny little things.
What I would give to be one.
The position causes my equilibrium to teeter, and I’m swaying heavily to one side. I snap my head down, attempting to right myself, but my foot catches on a divot in the rock, twisting my ankle and knocking me completely off-balance. My vision spins and I land flat on my back, my head smacking off the rock a moment later. Within seconds, everything goes dark.
