“Do you want me to go?” he asks, voice muffled against my hair. I feel his fingers flex on mystomach.
Fighting the urge to snuggle closer to his chest, I ball my hands into fists beneath my chin and breathe deeply in and out. When I speak, I don’t even recognize my ownvoice.
“No. Please… don’t go. Don’t leaveme.”
He’s eerily still at my back, but when I say that, I feel himrelax.
“I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “Go back to sleep, princess. We’ve got a long day ahead of us,tomorrow.”
Usually when he says princess, it’s laced with sarcasm and derision. An insult, meant to hurt me. Maybe it’s because I’m half-asleep, but this time… This time I’d swear it sounds like sunshine as it rasps from his mouth against the thin shell of my ear. Warm and welcome in the chill of thenight.
If he says anything else, I don’t hear him. I’m already asleep — safe in a set of strongarms.
* * *
When I wakein the morning, the gale has passed. Pale sunshine basks the world in a warm glow. The fire is blazing merrily. A neat pile of fresh logs and coconut husks are stacked nearby, ready to burn. Sitting beside my backpack I find a ration packet and a soda can, filled to the brim with freshwater.
Someone’s been busy thismorning.
There’s no trace of Beck. No indication he spent the night with his body wrapped around mine, warding off the cold. I’d be damn near sure I dreamed the whole thing, except for a faint indentation in the sand at my back and a strange flutter inside my chest I can’t quite rationalize away, no matter how hard Itry.
I take slow sips of my water, pretending it’s a steaming cup of coffee as I stare out at the ocean. It’s truly a spectacular sight. Aqua blue waves crest against the snowy white sand, rhythmic as a lullaby. This beach belongs on the front of a travel magazine or an office calendar. Most people would pay thousands of dollars to wake up to thisview.
To me, it’s nothing more than limbo. Not quite hell, but certainly not heaven. I’m neither damned nor saved; simply another of those restless souls Dante described, locked in an eternal waiting room. Eyes ever scanning the horizon for an escape route orexit.
It feels somehow wrong to hate a place as gorgeous as this one. To resent something so truly beautiful it makes your breath catch inside your throat and your heart stutter inside your chest. But pretty packaging isn’t enough to make me forget I’m not here bychoice.
A gilded cage is still acage.
I finish my water, duck behind some bushes to relieve myself, and strip off my thin button down. In addition to the coffee stain, it now bears several streaks of dirt and grime — as does the rest of my body. I run my fingers through my stiff hair, wishing for a comb or an elastic with which to tame it. Sunburned, salt-streaked, and half-starved, I can only imagine what I looklike.
On the other hand, I don’t need imagination to know what Ismelllike. My nose twitches as I catch a whiff of myself — caked with sea and sweat and blood and all manner of bodily fluids. It’s been a lifetime since the crash, longer since my last shower, an eternity since I’ve looked in a mirror or brushed my teeth or applieddeodorant.
There’s a thin layer of gunk growing on my teeth that no amount of swishing with water can remove. I seek out the small bag of toiletries at the bottom of my backpack and dump out the items with excited fingers. There’s a travel-sized toothbrush, peppermint paste, several tiny TSA-approved bottles of hair products, a comb, a razor, and even a mini floss dispenser. I feel like a kid on Christmas morning as I squeeze a scant dollop of toothpaste onto theend.
Who knows how long I’ll have to make this tubelast?
The small act of brushing and flossing brings me more joy than I’ve felt since we hit the first bump of turbulence three days ago.Three days.Can it really only be that long? My whole world has shifted so rapidly in such a short span of time, it’s difficult to reconcile in mymind.
With a minty-fresh mouth, neatly combed hair, and a healthy layer of deodorant, I feel like a brand new girl. Later, I’ll see about washing my clothes. The thought brings a genuine smile to myface.
Thrilled by the prospect of doing laundry! Mom would never believe it, if she werehere.
I brush off the sand clinging to my legs and sweep my eyes across the stretch of dense forest surrounding our camp. There’s so much plant life here, I’m certain there’s a water source somewhere nearby. A stream, a brook, a waterfall. I’d settle for anything. Hell, even a salty bath in the ocean would be better than another day in this dirty dress. The chiffon blue fabric, which once swished so prettily around my legs, is so sun-bleached and stained I hardly recognizeit.
A moan of pain snaps me back into mysenses.
Ian.
Shame floods me instantly. I’ve been so distracted by superficial concerns, so worried about my damn appearance, I’ve neglected him completely. I curse myself for being so caught up in improving my own quality of life, when there’s a man dying a few feet away. As I rush to his side, I’m suddenly happy there are no mirrorshere.
I’m not sure I’d like the person I’d see looking back, at themoment.
That girl I used to be — the peppy cheerleader who cared about perfect hair and proper makeup and coordinated outfits — isn’t welcome on the island. There’s no place for her here. Nopurpose.
I must shed her like a second skin, shake off the person I oncewas…
And become someonestronger.