Synonyms for Oasis | original fiction

When The Night Comes

Time had stopped for Romilly Hayes as she watched the rain on the water. Her blood had frozen to biting ice in her veins, yet something was keeping her rooted to the spot; still as a statue. She couldn't quite remember if she had forgotten her umbrella and windbreaker, or if she had merely elected for some unknown reason to leave them behind. Roxy's memory had defected more than usual on that particular April morning.

Was it even raining when I left? How long have I been OUT here?

Reasons didn't matter. The rain pelted against her raw skin, but she couldn't feel it. She had lost herself in the white noise of the late-spring storm; washed astray amidst the sweet hymns of irreplicable spring vibrancy. The world had skimmed away in the wake of the storm as it unleashed its steady deluge on the valley. There was a certain melody to the chaos, a discordant cacophony that was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. Roxy took a step closer to the edge of the dock, transfixed.

"HEY!"

Roxy was bolted back to the present, torn from her mesmeric trance at the sound of the voice. Her breath hitched as she swiveled on her heel to face the voice.

The soles of her sandals slipped against the slick wood, the worn-down rubber losing purchase on the slick jetty. She parted her lips in a silent shriek, and she braced herself for a lungful of seawater.

One second she was tumbling down towards the writhing sea, and the next, an iron grip locking down on her shoulders and yanking her forwards. Her nose collided with the stranger's sternum as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her away from the edge.

For one silent moment, she froze. She was helpless, claustrophobic in the stone-hard arms. No. No. No. No.

All at once, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think or move or process any of it, things were happening too fast and she was entirely overwhelmed.

Her heart was palpitating in her chest, stuttering a million miles per hour. Not this time, no. She would get away this time. She wouldn't let this happen again. She had to flee. A singular coherent thought pierced through her adrenaline-fueled terror: Not again.

She tried to scream, but her breath only came out in a sharp and ragged gasp. She thrashed in the arms of the stranger, striking him and kicking wildly. He wasn't letting go. He was moving, lowering her to the creaky boards of the dock. He was saying something, but Roxy wasn't sure what. The blood pounding in her ears drowned out all other noise.

When at last he released his grip on her, she continued to recoil away from him and fight against arms that were no longer wrapped around her, desperate and feral.

After a few seconds, she ceased. Trembling uncontrollably, she stared up at the stranger with her frantic silver blue eyes, clouded and glazed and unseeing. And then she blinked.

And blinked again, processing. The man took a tentative step away from her, raising his hands to indicate he meant no harm. She drew away from him, but the senseless panic was beginning to seep away, and the rapid gasps wracking her fragile frame slowed.

The man's jaw moved, but no words came. He just stared at her, soundlessly, jade eyes wide and shocked.

"Are you-" He began, but Roxy interjected suddenly.

"I... It's fine."

She felt a dark flush rise in her cheeks, burning to the tips of her ears. A burning coil of shame wound through her, and she dug her blue-tinged fingernails into her palm as she swallowed back her mortification.

"I... I... Did I hit you?" She managed, her voice small and weak. "I'm... I didn't... I am so, so sorry..."

The man shook his head, his expression blank. He looked incredibly disheveled, but aside from the thin rivulet of blood dripping down from his nose onto his overcoat he seemed alright.

"I'm alright." He wiped at the blood on his upper lip. "I'm the one who should apologize." He cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you. Are you hurt?"

"It's fine." She said again, this time a bit more brusquely as she cast her gaze away from the man's face. To her own dismay, tears had sprung to her eyes and her vision swam. She hoped that if any spilled, they would be indistinguishable from the beads of rain already trickling down her face.

There was a pregnant pause as the two avoided one another's gaze. Roxy sensed the tension between them; she could practically feel the man's thoughts burrowing deeply into her skin. He was probably questioning her sanity...Wondering why she had reacted so violently to his touch. Her face felt hot with shame. Please, don't ask me why. Please.

"Your lips are blue." Concern crossed his handsome features as he furrowed his brow. "How long have you been standing out here?"

A thousand different answers and excuses bubbled up in Roxy's throat, but her lips couldn't form the words. A tiny squeak left her, but nothing more.

He shrugged his overcoat off and took a step forward towards Roxy. She didn't flinch away, but regarded him with weariness as he approached her. "Here." He draped the coat, still stained with a few drops of his blood, over her shoulders, moving carefully so as not to accidentally touch her or frighten her again.

"Can I walk you home?" He spoke slowly, languidly. Roxy lifted her chin slowly, appraising him carefully. There was no malice in his eyes, only that unreadable murky emerald flicker. The shadow of a crooked smile grazed his lips. He looked to be at least in his mid-twenties; the tiny smirk brightened his face, sending a shiver of warmth down Roxy's spine.

Roxy nodded, glancing back down at his coat and tugging it tighter around her trembling shoulders. It smelled like laundry soap and... Sandalwood? Some sort of spice was mixed in there, too.

"The name's Stan." The man had to raise his voice to be heard above the now-howling wind.

"I'm R-Roxy." She stuttered, her teeth rattling slightly.

He smirked at her. "I like it."