Island Rush

by Marien Dore

  He leaned forward with the flint and the stone raised in his vibrating hands. The attempt to strike the two pieces together was pathetic. The stones didn’t even make contact. At his second desperate attempt, I could no longer watch. He wasn’t the only cold one.

  I took the flint and stone from him, striking one with the other. I did that maybe twenty times before a spark finally became visible. When we got a steady fire going, we moved as close as we dared to it. Though I still rocked with shivers, it was nothing compared to before.

  Mr. Rush was still shaking, his teeth clashing together. I reached over, snatching a shirt from the suitcase, and gave it to him. “Dry off as best as y-you can,” I managed, my voice as strong as it could be without shaking.

  He nodded and took it, rubbing it over his wet and shaky body. It made me feel even worse that I made him go out into the water. I saw him drying off but he still had goosebumps, and his teeth were chattering. Seeing that, it made me instinctively snatch more clothes from the suitcase and offer a handful to him. I didn’t like that he was still colder than me. “Wrap these around yourself. Around your chest and stomach.”

  He took the clothes in his hand and examined them before he looked up at me. His face was unreadable. “You n-n-need these more than I do.”

  Liar. Just trying to be the man of this island. “Are you sure about that?” I asked with an edge.

  Not willing to deny it as the sky raised a more intense chill, he draped the fabric around himself, stretching some of it to fit around his figure. Moments later, we were both in sync with our breathing, the licks of fire winning our bodies over. Thank god that was over.

  He stood up and stretched a few moments later, turning towards the woods as he set the clothes he was using as blankets to the ground. Just as he turned to walk into the woods, probably to go to the bathroom, he stopped himself. Glancing back to me, I heard him scoff. In a way where it sounded forced. “Will you be okay until I get back or do you think you might have another breakdown?”

  Wow. I did not expect that from him. All I could do was raise my eyebrows and wonder why exactly he would say that. “Are you implying once again that I am a child?” I asked sharply. It hurt to hear it, but it was obvious he forced the words. Why would he do that? Was he trying to pick a fight with me?

  He said nothing and turned back towards the woods, disappearing for a little bit. In those minutes I had, I couldn’t figure out why he said that. Why he was trying to make me mad. It made me shake my head and scoff. I was getting real sick of him. It made me angry that I was trying my hardest to ignore my issues with him. Why was I being nice and lending him clothes? Letting the guy freeze sounded better at this point.

  A few moments later, he appeared once more in the firelight and took his spot next to me. He was shivering after being absent from the fire and the fabric, but I didn’t care. I turned and stared at him. “Why did you say that to me?”

  “Because you act like a child. I was only concerned,” he said sarcastically, which really made me pay attention. Those words sounded forced too, and it made me wonder why he was trying to get to me. Then it hit me.

  “You don’t want to be forgiven, do you? You want me to continue being angry at you. You are trying to keep me upset at you.”

  He stiffened more than he already was from his sore muscles. His eyes stayed locked on the fire until I watched them shut tightly. Slowly opening them, they remained on the fire. “I—” he broke off and took a deep breath. “I don’t want forgiveness because I deserve for you to be mad at me. What I did was wrong, using you was wrong. I told you to get over it and because you can’t, I don’t want you to forgive me.”

  With him not looking at me and his tone, it made me narrow my eyes. I believed that was a part of it. It was not the whole reason he wanted me to be upset with him, and I could tell.

  “You are an awful liar,” I said, seeing his pain. Though I knew there was more to it, it was clear he did not want to explain what that was to me. All I knew was that I was tired of this. “I won’t forgive you, but why don’t we just forget it happened,” I whispered. It was too much to deal with. Though I won’t forgive him, it didn’t mean we couldn’t move past it for good.

  He stared at me for a long second before nodding. “Okay. We forget about it. That’s easier.” It sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of that.

  My eyebrows dipped as I continued to study him. There was something off about all of this. Though he didn’t want me to forgive him, in a way, it seemed like he did. Why did he want me to stay mad at him when it was obvious he hurt from it?

  I sighed as we sat in silence, thinking it over. I watched him from my side vision as he picked the berries I brought. A few minutes later, he turned to me and smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “We are going to be sore by tomorrow so we should get a good sleep tonight. We still have a lot to do,” he said. It wasn’t long after he spoke that I followed him and laid down. Soon enough, we were both asleep.

  What he said last night was true. We had a ton to do still. However, I don’t think we knew just how hurt and sore we were going to be. The storm already beat us up a few days ago. Yesterday made it much worse. We walked, had to move around a cliff, and carry a ton of wood. It was enough to put us out of commission for a day. After all, we aren’t talking about doing something small. We are talking about building a shelter. So I felt quite unproductive since we now actually had free time.

  We got back into our normal mood around each other throughout the day. That’s not to say there wasn’t any awkwardness, but we stuck to what we agreed to. We were moving on, and it was relieving throughout the day.

  The day… consisted of not much besides resting. We walked around a little bit, sat on the bank, and talked about nonsense stuff. There was only so much we could ignore. Eventually, I had to do something important. The only thing our sore bodies qualified for was picking berries. That’s exactly what we did.

  We ate as we picked. It felt good to fill our stomachs and not worry about running out. There were a ton of bushes loaded with berries. We emptied the suitcase and used it to hold our collection of berries for later. After maybe only fifteen minutes of dropping them into the suitcase, I felt something strange. Something I couldn’t explain or pinpoint. I had a sudden need to go to the ocean.

  I turned my direction from the bushes towards the creek. Keeping my attention there, Mr. Rush noticed. “What is it?” he asked.

  I looked back to him. “Nothing.”

  I went back to picking berries, but my eyes kept wandering over to the water. I wasn’t sure why either and it bothered me! I had a sudden urge to check it out, though. I began walking back towards the lake and heard him yell out to me from behind me. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to check something out!”

  I continued on and reached the creek. My feet didn’t stop. I started walking back into the woods, further away from camp but back in the direction of the ocean.

  “Hey,” he yelled, running up from behind me.

  “I just… feel like walking this way. I have no idea why. But… it’s like pulling me.” I never had a feeling like this before.

  “What are you talking about, Janice?”

  I groaned. “I don’t know.” I sidestepped the roots, broken branches, and scattered nature from the storm. I was able to spot the ocean through the trees in the distance. I didn’t make it any closer.

  My foot caught something I missed, something hidden under all the leaves and sticks, and it made me stumble down to the ground. I groaned, thinking how my body was too sore to go through this kind of torture. Opening my eyes after falling to the ground, I turned and stared up to where he was gazing down at me. He was the smart one to watch where he was going.

  “Jesus,” I groaned, rolling around to get in position to sit up. But I stopped upon hitting what made me trip. On my stomach and confused, I shifted so I could get a better look at what it was. All I saw was a large pile of
leaves, sticks, and clumps of mud left from what the storm brought. Something wasn’t right or natural about it, though. I reached my hand out and laid it over the large mass, putting a little pressure on it. It was hard, and my eyebrows dipped in confusion. “What…?”

  I brushed the debris away, and my breath cut off at the sight. My stomach felt hollow, and my body froze. I never thought it was possible to have my heart jump so high in my chest. Or to know the feeling of the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end. Right then, it happened, and I felt it all.

  My mother laid there, wrapped around her white and bloody gown. Her hair was a mess and skin deathly pale. Those were all details that made the main thing that much worse: her dead eyes. Those eyes stared directly at me as I scanned over her dead body. She was exactly as she was the day I saw her on the floor. Only now, I was inches from her face. She smelt of decay and blood, her hair a rusty color and eyes glazed over.

  I felt myself release a failing gasp as I sat there, shaking. I felt my arms reacting. I wasn’t sure how or why, but I managed to stroke back her hair that was stuck to her forehead. Of what looked like her forehead.

  “Oh—” my heaving stomach cut my voice off. I swung my head in the other direction when my mouth started to water in warning. My body bent forward with me kneeling, resting my palms in the dirt.

  I felt him behind me, leaning over and wrapping his hands around my hair. He held it back and away, seeing what I was about to do. With his other hand, he rubbed my back soothingly. “It’s okay. Let it go. You can vomit,” he whispered.

  Releasing from my mouth were the burn of acid and a hot stench. I threw-up hard, emptying my stomach of the few berries in me. I gave a sickly gag as my eyes began to burn as well. Through my sobs came more heaving until nothing more came up from my stomach.

  I turned my head just enough to see if what I saw was real. It sure looked like it. My mom’s body was laying there. How was this possible and why to me? Why was I being tortured this way? It would have been easier to have been beaten every day if that meant a good life in the end.

  My tears and vomit together created a burning sensation that made me feel worse. My inside writhed in that awful heat and fire as I cried out in pain, trying my best to let it distract my emotions.

  I looked back once more at my mother. It did me in. “Mom,” I whimpered out.

  After that, I collapsed. I felt not only the burn of acid in me but now on my chest and face. I was laying in my own vomit, but I couldn’t care. I was being swallowed under. Mr. Rush didn’t have the chance to catch me before I collapsed and started blacking out. Faintly, I could hear him begging me to wake up. I couldn’t, and I let myself go under.

  Chapter 25

  I faintly felt a tickle of something that made a chill run over my body. I thought I reacted to it, but I stayed in my unconscious state. I was starting to hear and feel things again so I wasn’t exactly out of it. I just had no say in what my eyes or mouth did yet.

  I felt my body sink down, moving into the water more until all that was left above was my head and chest. I was being held up by something, and I wasn’t sure what. I heard the splashing of the waterfall and knew I must be in the lake. How? I passed out in my own vomit; that I can at least remember. Everything else though was blurry.

  I wanted to go back under. I did not want to deal with the pain I knew I would have to face when I remember. Something kept me present, though. The path of a wet cloth traveled up and along my face before I heard it being soaked in the water. A moment later, it was back, soothingly stroking around my cheeks and mouth.

  I started getting feeling back in my eyes and mouth as I experienced the gentle motion of cloth. The problem was that I was getting a lot more back with it like a burning sensation of acid and the feeling of my heart hurting.

  I opened my eyes, and they connected to Mr. Rush’s deep irises. He was close to me, propping me up against him as he held me in his arms. My cheek was resting against the front of his shoulder. I was floating in the water in his arms and after establishing that, I felt more.

  One of his strong arms were under me, holding my outside thigh to him. The other was wrapped around my neck and shoulders. Which gave him enough room to be able to hold an article of clothing with that hand. The water was halfway up his chest, but he held me so my whole body was folded around the liquid, all except for my head and chest. All except for the areas that were covered in my own vomit. Oh god.

  He watched my expression as he slowly continued to wipe away the acid from my face, mouth, and chin with the newly made rag. He didn’t in any way look disgusted. More so upset and worried. I sagged back in his arms and stared up at him, slightly dazed. He kept stroking away the mess over me, but his eyes were trained on mine most of the time.

  His hand went down to my chest where he wiped away what he could of the vomit on the shirt. Watching his face, I saw a tint of red in his cheeks and knew why when he shifted. Dropping the rag for a moment and unwrapping the arm from around my shoulders, he moved his other arm to take its place. Because now with that free arm, he did what he was forced to do.

  Saying nothing, his hand slid under the water to rest on my stomach. He gripped the hem of the bottom of the shirt lightly, moving it up to ease it over my head. If my heart wasn’t beating fast before, it was now.

  The shirt now out of the picture, Mr. Rush took the rag back into his free hand. He moved it up my chest in slow circles, making the smell and feel of vomit disappear. The mess I made went into the water and floated out down the creek.

  His arms tightened around me more, probably to have better control of what he was doing. My mind was in shock because I couldn’t remember what happened. That didn’t mean my body wasn’t affected by his touch. I closed my eyes, sinking deeper into his warm skin. He was so gentle and careful with his movements, it didn’t bother me when he wiped away some of it over my breasts and bra.

  My mind was numb because I couldn’t recall what happened. It was also numb in a different way too. All my walls were down. I wasn’t trying to forget about him, force myself to stay away, or anything like that. It was blank for me to soak anything in. And as I did, I couldn’t block out my feelings. His eyes were powerful and beautiful in mine. Open and honest as well. He was very worried, and it was such a sweet sight, one that I felt lucky to see.

  Mr. Rush was a beautiful human being. All the issues I had with him made me that much more curious and confused. The roles were flipped. He knew everything about me, and I was the one who was now enticed to try and understand. I knew he didn’t want to hurt me and never tried to intentionally do so. It made me not care about anything at that moment. I could care less if he heard me confess my feelings for him; I was that open and vulnerable that moment. It was too much to keep in check by this point.

  I watched his eyes caress me, mostly my face. He moved the rag over my chest and neck, wiping away the vomit there too. I felt a moan slip from me as he moved the rag down the dip of my breasts. Dragging out the disgusting vomit there, he splashed some water over my chest to help. He inched the wet material just barely under my bra, making sure it all was gone by the time he rinsed the rag again. With all he was willing to do (or clean), it made my heart race. He was so sweet and nice, not once showing any sign of disgust. In fact, I saw something in his eyes. It was a fire that made me want to smile.

  Then, he lowered his arms, making me sink further into the water. Now, the only thing that wasn’t underwater was my face. My head, hair, and chest were consumed in the cool liquid. He slid one hand under my back to keep me up and against him. The other found my head under the water. He ran his fingers through the strands and did his best to get the vomit out of my hair. Massaging my head and staring into my eyes… he made my heart jump more. He was bent over me since I was further down in the water, his face hovering over mine closely. I kept my mouth closed, knowing how bad things could get in a hurry if he got a sniff of my burnt breath.

  I still couldn’t speak o
r think straight. The only thing zipping in my head was that I wanted him. When I tried to push past that and figure out what happened, nothing came to me. He wasn’t freaking out so everything must be fine, right?

  He stopped his movement and searched my eyes. “Can you handle rinsing your mouth out?” he asked in a gentle voice.

  Could I answer? I could moan and move my eyes; a nod should work. With a nod, he shifted me up and arranged my arms so they hung around his neck for support. His face was an inch from mine and my awful breath. It made me want to clean my mouth out even more.

  I held onto him with both hands around his neck as I twisted, leaning down sideways closer to the water. I opened my mouth, using him as my lifeboat, and pulled water in. Swishing it around in my mouth before spitting out dormant puke, I did that a few more times. Still feeling some there, I resorted to removing a hand from him and using my finger as a toothbrush.

  Hanging on him still, I rubbed off the remaining vomit as best as I could. I finally took one more mouth full in, forcing myself to swallow. The water with a tinge of hot vomit burned as it slid down my throat. God, I’m glad that’s done.

  Raising my head, I watched as the orange tinted water flowed towards where the start of the creek was. Mr. Rush still held me firmly. We said nothing and I started to panic. Why had I thrown up in the first place? Why was he so nice to me? Why did he look worried this whole time? My mouth hung open in need of air, but I clamped it shut when he made me turn to face him.

  He was so close to me, and I was still in that weird daze. I didn’t have an issue with what I did when I eyed a strand of his hair that hung down in front of his eyes. I raised a hand and guided it back with my finger, hooking it behind his ear. I studied his troubled face.

  “Are you in shock?” he asked, eyeing my strange gesture towards his hair.

  “I think so,” I was able to get out. I couldn’t continue, though, not when reality became clearer. Everything that was happening around me snapped into place. Everything that happened before this did too.