Castaways

12::Hannah Ridiculous

October 16 6:37 AM

Seven days.

Seven days since I've had a proper bath. Seven days since I've slept on a proper bed. Seven days since I've ate proper food and have been able to drink as much water as I needed. Seven days since I've seen my family. Seven is just a number, an integer that can be multiplied by any number. A week. A week has seven days, five that are full of school and the other two are days off from school. School is the place I'm supposed to learn. I'm supposed to learn about things that seem pointless at the time, but will benefit me in my future. I'm supposed to be carpooling with my best friend at an ungodly hour in the morning. I'm supposed to be growing up, fulfilling the requirements to be a teenager in this modern day world.

I've lost a week.

These thoughts swirled in my head, hammering my brain till I was forced to wake up and assess my situation. The air smelt of burnt wood, mixed with the usual smell of the salty water and evergreen trees. The sky looked mucky out, cloudy and sad, making the mood seem even more worse. Yet the waves, I noticed, continued to crash against the sand unanimously, as if what happened last night never did actually happen. As if Andrew and I hadn't lost our only chance at survival. As if I hadn't lost the only thing I've been relying on Since I've gotten here.

It amazed me how this world, so big to us yet small at the same time, could continue its daily routine as if nothing bad has ever happened. Not just our supplies burning, but the earthquakes, the murders, the wars. My mothers voice rang through my head: "life goes on. Even if you don't, Hannah." She had told this to me at my tenth birthday party when I didn't get what I wanted. Bratty, yes, but I was ten. I was so enraged that I couldn't understand how everyone could be so happy when I wasn't.

And I guess she was right. Life does continue to move on, even if we aren't ready for it.

I was aware that I was using Andrew as a body pillow at the moment, and my camera was digging into my side, but I found the calmness in the atmosphere far to rare to ruin it by waking him up when I move. All he and I do is fight, and I'm emotionally and physically drained. Even if he did wake up and argue with me, I doubt would say anything in return. I looked up at him, finding his snores comforting. It was nice to know that after all this he's still the same idiotic Andrew that snores and farts in his sleep. From this angle, his eyelashes seemed to almost be touching the top of his eye lids, flinching every now and then. Izzy had similar eyelashes, now that I think about it. They were long and dark, and I smiled at the idea of being able to teach her how to use mascara when she's older.

That is, if I get off this island.

Feeling too exhausted to even keep my eyelids open, I shut them quickly and welcomed the deep slumber that I had been waiting for.

After what seemed like hours, I woke up to the sound of birds chirping quite noisily. I mean, sure they were here on this island first but it's polite to be respectful of others around you! I grunted in annoyance and slowly peeked one eye open. My eye had to adjust to the bright light streaming through the tree branches, but when it became accustomed to it I saw clearly. Andrew was sitting down by the shore, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, and staring at the waves crash. He appeared to me almost mesmerized by the repeating action, almost as if he was studying it.

I slowly got up, my back aching in pain from my uncomfortable sleep as I stood up and made my way towards him. I said nothing to him as I sat down next to him, and he said nothing also. We sat there for a while, quiet and tuned out of the world, our focus on the sole purpose of the waves and how they crash.

Andrew was the first one to break the silence.

"The fire wasn't an accident."

I snapped my attention to him, easing an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"