Page 7 of Wreck and Ruin
My mom told me stories about how being out in the sun for too long can make you dehydrated and how it sometimes can make you see things that aren’t there. That was before I had ever been outside. As if she knew that I would one day be brave enough to venture away from the comfort of the cave. I’d believe her theory if it wasn’t almost dark and the sun wasn’t hidden behind layers and layers of ominous storm clouds. As the realization that someone is down there hits me, my legs shake in protest, each step growing heavier as the wind pulls me closer to the shadow.
Chapter6
EZEKIEL
Death.
I can feel it.
Taste it.
Like metallic earth and salt as it burns me from the inside out, clawing at my skin and stomach. My lungs fill with acid fire as my breath battles against the thief that is the sea, lapping at my freezing, unmoving body. Am I suffocating, or have I already? All I want to do is sleep, though the cold won’t release its grip on me. The lower part of my body is in the water, and the other is clinging to something solid.
I’m half alive.
Wait,am I alive?
I’m trapped here, and every attempt at moving has me falling deeper into the ocean. If this is Hell, and I have to die like this over and over again, I’m going to be pissed off. The last thing I remember was falling from the ship after Spencer, the fucking asshole, needled me in the neck with some sort of immobilizing drug that wore off the minute my body came in contact with the water. It clearly wasn’t that good if I’m still breathing, which is up for debate at this point.
Once I came up for air, I swam as far as I could away from Lady Jane, pushing my body through the roughness of the waves before fire tore through the sky’s darkness, igniting like fireworks in slow motion.
It was beautiful.
Every wretched soul blazing across the water, Charles and Spencer included. Part of me thought I was spared so that I could watch it all happen—a gift from the unknown for exterminating the true evil of this earth.
After what seemed like forever drifting and bobbing in the water, watching it all burn and sink into the dark depths of the sea, I clung to the nearest piece of floating debris, remnants of the explosion, and hung on for dear life. Apparently, it wasn’t enough because here I am.
My body shivers involuntarily, and I can hear my heartbeat slow in my ears over the waves as they crash around me. I try to open my eyes, but after a night spent immersed in salt water, my retinas burn with each blink. I can feel myself drifting, like an untethered sailboat, slipping weightless in and out of a misty haze. The roaring sounds that surround me blur into muffled white noise, and I force myself to fight back, summoning every ounce of strength that I have left, even though my heavy arms protest, begging to submit to the exhaustion I feel. I try to focus on my breathing, each shallow breath harder than the last, when something soft and gentle brushes against my arm.
I continue to slip in and out of consciousness, and each time I come to, I realize that I’m moving. The pain of my body being slowly dragged for what feels like hours against razor-sharp edges is exactly what I imagined Hell would feel like. Brutal and unforgiving—andGod-fucking-damn-it—I knew I was dead.
Gentle hands grip mine, pulling me. They're smaller than mine. A woman’s? Has Lady Death come to collect what is left of my broken remains and deliver me to my maker? Or is she a Siren? I open my mouth to say something, anything, yet nothing but puffs of air escape my lips as the wind is knocked from my lungs over and over again with each hard thud against my ribs. For a moment, everything stops.
Water fills my mouth and face, but it doesn’t taste like salt. Something scrapes against my lips, a bottle, I think, encouraging my mouth to open and drink. My head is elevated slightly, angled enough to make swallowing easier. My eyes are washed free of the ocean, though I haven’t opened them yet. I can feel myself start to slip again, but the cold water splashing against my skin jolts me awake each time.
The sound of muted footsteps pattering around me fills my ears, the storm a little quieter as I try to listen, instincts from my training evading me with each wave of pain, forcing me to focus on my surroundings instead. My black wet hair hangs in my eyes, and I lift my arm to swipe the wet strands away when I’m met with resistance. Confusion floods my already groggy senses. Not because I’m still paralyzed but because I’m tied up. My brows furrow, and then I open my eyes slowly, squinting at what looks like rusted shackles and chains locked around my wrist.
What the?...
I blink them into focus, then turn my head to look at my other arm, also chained. My body screams as I force myself to sit up, my head whipping side to side to see where the hell I am, as a wave of dizziness floods me.
Don't pass out. Don't pass out.
God, I feel like I've been fucking beaten. My rib cage is on fire. My back and shoulder blades grate against a hard, solid object coated in a layer of something gross,probably fucking sea slime. I feel its stickiness seeping through my drenched button-down dress shirt. The pungent scent of damp earth, fish, and mildew clings to everything, but it isn't enough to distract me from my pounding head, splitting in two and hammering like it has its own heartbeat. I bite back the bile gathering in my throat as my ribs threaten to cut off my air supply. Every breath is sharp and short, and wherever I am, whoever has found me, has a huge fucking advantage, and I don't like that one bit.
My eyes dart around, taking everything in as much as my blurred vision will allow—a cave. Okay, I’m in a cave. I can work with that.
Hopefully.
It’s dark in here. The only way out that I can see is through the gap, the only source of light, about twenty feet in front of me. It's big enough that my body wouldn't touch the sides if I crawled through. I hear footsteps again, but before I can think better of whether or not pretending to be passed out is a good idea, vibrant aquamarine eyes pierce mine, defying the shadows, as a small, slender frame slowly creeps into view. The woman straightens, her features now half cloaked in the dark, but I don’t miss her wide-eyed gaze slowly rolling over me, taking me in. She keeps her distance, and I don’t blame her. I may be in a compromised as fuck physical state, but I’m not above looking for an advantage and running with it if it means that I’ll survive—defeated body be damned. Sickly pale skin illuminates the darkness as my eyes rake over her body.
She’s naked.
Maybe she is a siren.
Her hair drips with water, the color of pomegranate in the dim light, long enough that it covers up most of her body. I don’t think I’ve seen hair this red before. It’s mesmerizing. In another life, I could have been drawn to it. But right now, chained to a fucking cave wall, a half-drowned rat almost beaten to death, survival is the only thing on my mind. I snap out of it and avert my gaze, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable. I stare down at my shackled wrists resting in my lap. I may not be above killing, but I draw the line at perversion. The sound of crinkling plastic fills the space, and my eyes immediately flick to where it came from.
Water.
