Page 89 of Lost Paradise

Eve’s been nothing but respectful and focused, trying to keep us all together and moving forward, while Astro acts like he’s stuck in some frat party. The way he treats her—like she’s just another piece of scenery to ignore or ridicule—it’s infuriating.

I’m almost grateful for the silence. It’s a small victory, a brief moment of peace where I can focus on the task at hand instead of being constantly reminded of how much of a jerk Astro can be.

I scan the path ahead, noticing how the jungle seems to thicken, the trees closing in around us, and I don’t remember passing through this area.

“Foster, I can’t find any of the marks I left. Are you sure we’re on the same path back?”

He stops and looks around, and while his face remains stoic, I can see his eyes darting everywhere, realizing he’s taken a wrong turn somewhere.

The unease creeps into my gut, twisting like a knife.

"Let's retrace our steps," Foster suggests, his voice steady but the underlying tension evident.

“Fuckin’ell,” Astro moans.

“We’re all tired and fed up, Astro,” Foster snaps. “Let’s not make a bigger issue than what it is. We’ll just retrace our steps.”

The ground beneath my feet suddenly feels softer, almost spongy, like the earth has turned to a damp, treacherous mush. I halt in my tracks, a sense of unease prickling at the back of my neck. My feet sink slightly into the ground as I shift my weight, and the soft, unnatural give of the earth makes my stomach clench.

I look down, and that’s when I see it—the telltale signs of instability beneath my feet. The surface isn’t just soft; it's shifting as if the ground is a living, breathing entity. The soil around me ripples, and a hollow sound echoes faintly, like the whisper of something beneath the surface. I barely have time to process what’s happening before the earth gives way with a sickening lurch.

“Fuck. Run!” I shout, but it’s too late. The ground collapses, pulling me into a void.

My heart leaps into my throat as the land crumbles beneath me. It’s a jarring sensation, like falling through the floor of a crumbling building. The earth collapses with a roar, pulling me down into a yawning chasm. My body is yanked violently, and I flail, trying to grab onto anything solid, but there’s nothing—just the sickening, swirling void of the sinkhole opening wider.

The fall is swift, the air rushing past me as I plummet into darkness. My heart races, a frantic drumbeat in my chest. I land with a hard thud, pain jolting through my body. Gasping, I try to push myself up but find the ground beneath me slick and unstable.

“Zane!” Foster’s voice echoes from above, filled with panic.

“Zane, are you okay, mate?” Jack calls out, his voice strained.

I groan, managing to sit up.

“I’m…I’m okay. Just a bit shaken,” I reply, looking around. I’m in a wide, dark pit, the walls slick with mud and vegetation. I can see the sky above, a small circle of light far out of reach. My breath comes in shallow gasps, the reality of my situation hitting me like a punch to the gut. The walls of the sinkhole seem to close in, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead.

"Hang on, we’re coming to get you!" Foster shouts.

My heart pounds as I watch the small circle of light, the voices of the guys above barely registering. The fear claws at me, each second feeling like an eternity. What if they can't get me out? What if the walls cave in? The thoughts swirl in my mind, each onemore terrifying than the last. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself, but the darkness seems to close in, amplifying my sense of isolation and helplessness.

As I sit in the darkness, the weight of my situation presses heavily on me, and my thoughts spiral into a grim reflection of my choices. The soft, squelchy mud beneath me seems almost symbolic of my current predicament—caught in a mess, I can’t escape, no matter how hard I try.

How the fuck did I get here?

And I’m not just referring to this damn sinkhole. Accepting this sports scholarship was supposed to be a chance to start over since I failed at getting to play college football. All my future dreams of getting drafted were crushed, and I keep thinking about what I could have done differently. Where did I fuck up? I could have waited for next year, but I was so eager to leave, and Hawthorne’s was supposed to be my ticket out of town.

But now, as I sit trapped in this sinkhole, I can’t help but see the irony. This 'start over' had led me to be stranded on an island in the middle of fucking nowhere, a place where survival is a daily struggle, and now I’m stuck in a pit with no clear way out. The choices I made with such certainty now feel like they’ve led me straight into this abyss, each step away from football seeming to steer me closer to disaster.

What a fucking twist of fate. The sense of failure gnaws at me, a bitter reminder of how my quest for change has brought me to this dire situation.

"Zane, talk to us!" Jack’s voice cuts through the haze. "Keep talking, okay? We’re going get you out."

I swallow hard, my throat dry. "I’m here," I say, my voice shaking. "Just... be quick. This place is giving me the creeps." My hands tremble, a physical manifestation of the fear that’s gnawing at my insides.

I clench my fists tightly, the rough, uneven texture of the mud digging into my palms. The physical pain is almost a welcome distraction from the gnawing fear and regret that threaten to overwhelm me. I need to regain control to harness every ounce of strength and determination I have left.

Foster’s words echo in my mind, a bitter reminder of the doubts he’s cast on me. He thinks I’m not ready for the Olympics, that my approach is too aggressive, too raw. He’s concerned that my driveand intensity might be my downfall rather than my asset. His criticism stings—he’s right in a way. I’ve often been too focused on charging forward, fighting for every inch. But here, in this sinkhole, that same drive is what will keep me alive.

Survival isn’t just about physical strength; it’s about willpower, about pushing through when everything in you is screaming to stop. Foster might see my aggression as a flaw, but out here, in this dark, suffocating hole, it’s my lifeline.

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