Shipwrecked

3-Ryann

I wake up and stare across the room at her. She looks fragile.
I sigh. Why does it have to be like this?
I want so badly for things to be back to how they were before those assholes landed us on this island, back when we were young girls, ready, excited even, to start an amazing adventure, the adventure of a lifetime.
It wasn't until third grade that we realized something was going on. I mean, I had known almost all along, but I was smart, it took a lot to fool me, surprise me. The others were too vulnerable. They didn't realize that we were being used.
They picked us out, trained us so well that we basically gave ourselves up. So by the time we were twelve they had gathered the ones they wanted. We were children, children in a massive experimental program.
They tricked us into joining. I didn't see it then, but know I do. It was what my mother had warned me of. But nothing she could've said to me earlier on would have done any good.
They used the one's we loved most against us. Told us if we didn't come they'd do something to our families. On top of that they made our mission sound tempting. It was like we were getting the better end of the deal, one great thing in exchange for a good thing.
Once we finally figured out their plans for us we were ecstatic, sure to join. Why wouldn't we want to be part of something so big, so extraordinary?
Apparently we couldn't think of a reason...
I found out the exact reason when we showed up at that three story, brick building that looked like it spanned for miles.
They stuck us in this stupid school for years, training us until ruthless, nailing the idea that we were doing something good for our people into our little heads, and teaching us, like dogs, that we should listen to our owners.
But it didn't work on all of us. I remember still not feeling faithful to them. I talked to Brooklyn and Noa about it in secret. All the others, the other previous rebels, were now seemingly obedient puppies.
So they sent us all out on a mission. They sent us out telling us we'd be back in a few months. They gave us everything we needed to survive.
But it wasn't enough.
Our leaders, our stupid, ill-advised leaders, have failed us.
After all they put us through, to get us ready, prepare us for this adventure of a lifetime, it all just went to waste. Every skill, every bit of pain they made us go through to get to the "point we needed to be at" all down the drain.
They lied to us. He lied to her. I hate them all, and I know she does too.
I need to get out of here. Maybe then I will stop thinking of Brooklyn.
Oh who am I kidding...
I gather my books and all of my research that I had to write on wrinkled notebook paper and then extremely thin sheets of wood we made from a dead tree.
I step across the wooden floor boards and they creak. I wince. This never happened at home. Our floor was made of tile.
I can almost remember the feeling of that white tile under my feet. The last time I stood on it was just before I was leaving to go on this mission. My mother had hugged me and whispered in my ear so none of the large men wearing their completely white suits could hear her, "This is just a thing sweetheart. It's a thing that I know you can make it through."
I nodded, though I was still confused as to why she seemed so worried.
"I'll tell Daddy you said goodbye." she had said.
"But I didn't."
"He loves you sweetie." she said, tears falling from her eyes.
I nodded just to please her, but on the inside I knew that man never cared a bit about me. That's why he spent his time at work until I was already asleep.
I sigh and shake the memories from my head.
I shuffle over to the door and open it, expecting to walk out into the peaceful, early morning, but instead I find something that nearly makes me jump out of my skin.
I haven't seen one of these since our first year here.
I stare into her eyes. She snarls at me, flares her teeth.
I slowly back up and walk into the hut tapping Brooklyn gently on the shoulder. She wakes with a jolt and I quickly cover her mouth with my hand, telling her to be quiet.
"Ryann—" she begins, darting up in her bed, but when she sees the panther through the window, standing outside, its dark fur and emerald eyes, watching us like a hawk; she immediately drops her tone and goes silent.
She's gone into hunting mode. I would recognize this behavior anywhere.
She slowly sits up and walks towards the panther. I watch her move, her body tense and ready. She draws her bow and I smile.
This is the only thing she and I still share. This is the only thing that seems to bring us together: hunting.
The panther doesn't move, but it looks as if it is about to pounce. But I'm not worried. Brooklyn never misses a shot.
I watch her careful feet and I try to warn her before it is too late, but I am not fast enough. She trips on the loose floorboard she's been yelling at me to fix for months now, and the panther darts away. But she is quick to her feet, and before the pair of green eyes can climb the closest tree, Brooklyn has her to the ground with an arrow in her hip.
I watch as Brooklyn gracefully strides over to the suffering animal, her blond curls flowing behind her, kisses her three fingers she uses to draw her bow, and shoots the panther right through the heart, putting it out of its misery.
"Tell Noa that we have a treat." she says calmly, taking her arrows out of the animal and sitting down on a rock to start skinning the beast.
I nod and run off in the direction I know that Noa probably took off in.
I speed through the trees and the sand, and then through more trees. I know this island like the back of my hand.
Mostly it's from drawing the maps. The only problem is. I'm not good at remembering the directions once I look away from the map.
See, I can figure things out easy when it's all down on paper, but as soon as you take that away from me, I'm like a blind mouse.
So I'm at point A, I gotta get to point B, which is about fifty paces in front of me. I know the mathematics.
But you put me in a forest, even if I've been in the same place my whole life and I'm lost.
Brooklyn memorizes places by looks. She sees that tree with the weird gnarls on it and she knows she's 10 yards west from the river or something. But me I see that tree with the weird gnarls on it and I can't remember for the life of me what it's near. All I know is it's there. It's there but where?
She should have known better than to send me out here on my own.
"Noa!" I call, turning every which way to see if I notice any movement.
I know I'm in the general area, I just don't remember which way Noa's spot is.
I see some movement trough this thick cluster of trees.
I head straight through, ending in a clearing, where Noa sits all alone staring at me like a deer caught in headlights.