We finished transporting all the branches and skinny logs upstream to our camp by the time it was getting dark. The sun nearly below the trees, the incoming chill in the air made the hair on my arms stand on end, which for once was quite welcoming. After all, we were both dripping sweat after hours of working.
Mr. Rush laid back in the grass, breathing in a deep sigh of relief, happy to be done for the night. I sat down next to him and the thirty-five or so thick branches and logs. I eyed the daisy that was only a few feet away from where we were resting in the grass. It was comforting, to say the least. It, unfortunately, wasn't enough though to physically make me feel better. With each minute, the air became colder – too cold soon enough. It made me feel really stupid that I took a quick dip in the creek to cool off not a half hour ago. At least, I wasn't the only stupid one who did that.
He looked colder than me, which made me feel slightly guilty when I spoke. "You should walk down the creek one more time and grab some flint on the beach. The one we have is getting harder to use with how small it is. While you are doing that, I can see if those berries are still there and get some s-s-sticks together for the f-fire," I said, beginning to stutter. Thank you, cold.
Though not looking happy with the way I said those words, he nodded in agreement. He went back down the creek's bank, clearly looking as if in physical distress, We shared that feeling with how my muscles felt shattered and my back sore. My legs were in pain too as I walked towards where the berries should be.
At the sight of little red and black dots on the bushes, my sore legs moved faster. I reached the berries that were on the right side of the waterfall and uphill slightly. As I began to pick a few and ate them, I quickly realized just how terribly cold I was getting. Darkness was creeping in and with it came the chill. Being wet and now shaking, it pushed me to get this done. I picked as many berries as I could for us, gathered some brush and sticks for a fire, and returned back with wobbly legs.
I nestled the berries in the grass next to the daisy so I could easily find where I left them. I dropped the sticks and brush a few yards back into the spacious woods where we would sleep tonight. By this point, I could hear my teeth chattering together. I couldn't stop shaking so I did what felt natural to do. I laid down and waited for him, curling my legs into my chest, trying to get warm.
I instantly stretched back out a second later, though. A strangled groan released from between my chattering teeth. God, the pain all that carrying caused was taking its effect at the worst moment.
I rolled slowly to me feet, fighting a grunt at the building pressure my legs and back were gaining. I found the suitcase, dragged it with straining arms back to where I was before, and laid back down. I reached my hand up and dug it into the suitcase, fishing out one of the shirts. I began rubbing it hard over my body, needing to somehow get dry or warm.
My hand moved over me, desperate to eliminate any little spot on my body that was wet. When I realized why it wasn't working, I took off the green top, laughing at the fact that I was in just my bra again. I was cut off when the air hit my bare wet stomach, making me shake harder. I continued rubbing the shirt over me and after a minute, the top half of my body was dry. I stuck a hand back into the bag and pulled out the first thing I touched: another tank top. No long sleeve shirts of course.
I threw it on, and it caressed my freezing skin, only giving me a little comfort. Now, time to take care of the rest of me. With a wince, I was able to pry my damp shorts down after a long fight with aching muscles. Once that was done, I laid there and dried the bottom half of myself with the shirt I was using as a towel. I was tempted to take off my bra and underwear since those were still wet but not even the cold could get me to do that... not when Mr. Rush could turn up any second.
With just the dry tank top on, I continued rubbing the fabric I had on my waist and legs with desperate hands. Fighting the last of those drops away, a whisper of a stick snapping brought me to attention. Mr. Rush entered my sight. Walking parallel to the creek, his body dripped of water. It wasn't from the dip we took a little bit ago either.
I knew why it appeared as if he hadn't dried much from his walk down. He went out into the ocean to retrieve the flint he was currently carrying! My god, I figured he would be able to find some right on the beach! I was so stupid to suggest he be the one to sacrifice more heat for that flint. As if being wet, walking through the chilled air, and being half naked wasn't enough, I made him go back into the water.
He stopped short upon seeing me and kept his eyes down. I blushed, grabbed some dry shorts, and put them on hastily despite my soreness. I laid out the damp clothes I had on before; they should be dry by tomorrow. When I stood and moved my concern over to him, I saw that he sat down in front of where my pile of brush sat. Remaining stiff with his muscles, he showed how worse off he was than me. He started shaking and groaning violently against the frosty air. His breath became visible, the white heat coming from his lips becoming uneven too. He acted as if he was totally fine, and even attempted starting the fire.
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.