Crash

3: Help who?

Lyra-

I cracked my eyes open and looked around. I was on my side, my shoulder was pressed to the wall of the plane painfully. I reached over and unclipped my seatbelt, letting myself fall from the seat. Groaning when my body weight was put all on my one side, I turned myself around to sit upright.

My whole body ached and stung. I wiped my forehead and blood coated the back of my hand. I grimaced and tried to wipe the blood out of my eye.

Clutching my arm, I stumbled out of the ripped opening where the front of the plane used to be. 

I looked around and figured it was about five or six o'clock. The storm seemed to be gone.

I turned around and faced a mountain side. Looking up, I could barley see the front of the plane on a ledge. A little crumpled up white speck among the dark dirt and rocks.

I remembered Marcus was dead. I was alone and I don't know where the hell I am. I was really sure my shoulder was dislocated, just to add the cherry on top of the shit-sundae. 

I sat down in the mud and let the tears stream down my face. My chest heaved painfully. 

 Sobbing loudly, I crawled back into the plane bits, and curled against the seat. I held my arm to me and leaned against the plane wall. What the hell was I supposed to do?

I looked down and saw multiple cuts on myself, probably from debris and falling almost one hundred and thirty feet down a mountain. My head hurt like hell and I felt exhausted.

A blackness started to surround my vision. I let it envelop me, it was warm and painless.

----------

"But daddy, it's squishy," I whined.

My father sat next to me on the dock and took the worm from me "Yes but that's okay."

"Why do I need to know how to fish daddy?" I asked curiously.

"Well for fun and so you can go on river trips with me."

I grinned as he handed the line back to me "I like it when you teach me things."

"Well in that case, I'll teach you all you need to know about living out here. Then, if you need me one day and I'm not there, you can care for yourself."

Being the six year old I was, I only smiled and nodded, then cast my hook from my Barbie fishing pole into the water.

"Good job!" My father praised.

I giggled and swung my feet on the dock. Soon, my pole started to tug.

I gasped and squealed "Daddy! Daddy! I think I got one!"

"Reel! Reel it in Lyra!" He grinned, urging me to bring the fish in.

I cranked that little pink lever as hard and as fast as I could. A catfish the size of my forearm swung almost into my lap.

"Aw man, that's a good one!" My father praised and took it off the hook.

"Can we eat it?!" I asked excitedly, dropping my pole.

"Yup," he grinned down at me and ruffled my brown curls

I watched him chop the head off, fillet the fish, and then throw the guts and bones back into the water along with the head.

"Ew," I giggled.

"It ain't that bad, this one will be good eating. See the nice white meat? It's good. You gotta look out for bones but I'm pretty sure I got them all," Dad said after inspecting the fish. He then set the meat on ice in a cooler.