Troy's Last Chance

Chapter 1

Vision blurs. Consciousness comes, but refuses to linger. I cannot breathe, for my nostrils fill with water. And when I open my mouth, it does too.

I believe I am dying. Perhaps I am already dead. Is this what death is like? I didn't expect to experience so much fear and panic between my last seconds alive and what comes after.

My fingertips penetrate the water's surface. Then, before my whole arm can reach out, I am forced back into its depths as another wave crashes onto me. Any hope I had left is carried away with it.

Tumbling in the current, unable to differ sand from sky, my foot wedges between two large rocks. Stuck several feet below the surface, the raging tides have me sway like a weed in the water. I can hardly hold my breath any longer. I gaze at the peculiar way the light gleams through the water, piercing it with long, sharp rays. They are alluring, mysterious, elegant. I let my last thoughts be of how it really is true that the most beautiful things really are deadliest...

All of a sudden, as I'm about to give in, the rapids slow. Quickly, I urge myself to push the rocks- which may very likely be at least sixty pounds each- off my foot. Desperately swimming upwards.

The river is smooth, flowing at a much milder speed. There is no white water in sight, even from the direction I violently came. I regain my balance, feeling my toes on the sandy floor. I gasp as soon as my head breaks the surface of the water. Several minutes of coughing and fist clenching and hopeless cursing later, I feel rather okay. And even after that, I faint.

A half-naked girl sprawled on the long and narrow beach. She is damp, but no longer soaked to the skin. Her body is damaged, you can simply tell by the way she screams and grimaces at her gashed and bloody limbs. After a while of self-pity and utter irony, she gets on two feet and stumbles in any direction deemed worth pursuing. 

Unfortunately, I am that confused, injured, and severely disoriented girl. Certainly not my proudest moment. Each step taken brings a new horror. The first, it occurs to me that I am bare-footed. Although it may not matter so much on a sandy beach, the further I walk, the more the little grains begin to scorch and inflame my flesh. I drag one of my feet in the sand. Since I twisted an ankle on that wonderful adventure which led me three-quarters way to death. Next, I can feel my heartbeat in my head as it throbs.

My mind swarms with questions. What the hell... happened? I cannot remember anything whatsoever. Nothing. I collapse in the sand, overwhelmed with agony, and my lack of knowledge, memory, everything.

What was I doing drowning in those rapids?

Come on, Rhode. Something. Then it occurs to me- that was something. My name. Must be. Rhode.

With little hope returning, I squeeze my eyes shut. Can I remember anything else about myself? Or about anything? Desperate, seeking anything to appease my bewildered self. Prying memories from my otherwise empty head is tough, tedious, dire work. I have absolutely no clue how old I am, who I was and where I was before an hour ago, what I even look like.

I crawl back to the river, splash the grime, the sweat, the blood off my face. Then, I study my reflection. A pale girl, with matted golden hair. Puffy, red eyes. It looks an awful lot like she's been crying the living daylights out of herself.

I feel so foolish. I get on my knees, and then my feet, stumbling again. In the distance, a figure walks toward me, wearing a bulky white cloak. In this heat, it looks miserable. I cry out something before slipping into unconsciousness once again.