Page 27 of Stranded

“There you are,” I murmur, when I get the last bit of blood off her face. Next, I clean her neck and the exposed skin above her top. Then I move to her arms. I make sure to clean the scratches there, wishing I had some clean bandages to wrap them in.

By the time I’m finished, the sun has set, and she’s still out cold.

“Is it this dark every night?” Bower asks, glancing up at the sky.

“Yeah, we’re just usually in the hut, asleep by this time,” King reminds him.

“We can’t leave her out here. I’m going to have to put her over my shoulder to carry her up to the hut. She can sleep in the bed,” I tell them as I stand, hoisting her up as gently as I can, and placing her over my shoulder.

King steadies the bottom of the ladder for me as I climb, it’s more difficult than I expected as I don’t want her to fall, but before long I have her placed in the bed. It’s more like just a mattress, but it’s the closest thing we have here, and a hell of a lot better than the dirty jungle floor.

It’s too dark to see anything, but the thought of losing sight of her scares me. I sit on the ground beside her bed and find her hand, holding it tightly in mine as King settles somewhere close by.

“Hey, guys?” Bower whispers from nearby.

“Yeah?” We both answer quietly, not wanting to wake her.

“Why do you think the sight of blood scared her so much? I can’t imagine that’s the first boar she’s killed.”

“It was probably seeing the blood on her hands,” King whispers.

“It brought back a bad memory for her,” I agree. I think about what that must mean. That something has happened in her past that left her covered in blood and traumatized. My stomach twists with the unwelcome sensation of her being in trouble, and me not being there to help, which is stupid, I didn’t know her when that happened.

I think about the first time I saw her eyes, hiding in that tree. Had she been watching me bathe? I’m not sure if I should be upset by that or not. If I’m being honest, I don’t really mind her watching me. In fact, if the twitch of my dick is anything to go by, I like it a lot. I’d rather she’d have joined me, though.

She’s such a strange contradiction. Somehow she’s fierce and independent and she’d have to be incredibly strong-willed to live out here on her own. But she’s also shy and hesitant. But what resonates with me the most is how she refused my offer to trade for help, saying she’d give it willingly. She knows we’re in over our heads on this island, and yet she’s not taken advantage of that.

In fact, she’s helped us at every turn. Bringing us fruit and waterskins, saving us from the boar, then teaching us what to do with it afterwards. She’s kind and sweet, the type of girl who many would take advantage of.

Someone elsehadbeen here, we saw the grave. That has to be her father. Did she bury him? Even though she didn’t answer my question, I’m ninety-nine percent sure the four of us are the only humans left on this island.

When I saw her kill that wild boar to save us, she looked wild and savage, but none of her other actions supported that.

No, this girl is no savage. She’s just lost.

Chapter fifteen

Darla

Something wakes me, but when I open my eyes, everything is dark. As soon as the rest of my senses fully come online, I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. I can hear deep breathing around me, as if there are other people sleeping nearby. Where am I? My fingers twitch and I realize there’s a large hand holding mine.

Crap shells!What’s going on? Why am I holding someone's hand? I try to take stock of the rest of my body and everything seems okay. I can feel my mattress beneath me, meaning I’m in my hut.

My vision starts to adjust to the darkness as the room starts to take shape. Turning my head, I see someone laying in the hammock, and another sitting in the chair, resting their head and arms on the desk. The last is sitting on the ground beside me, holding my hand.Weston.I can see his short blonde hair from where his head’s resting on the bed beside me.

Why is he sitting beside me, and why is he holding my hand? I rack my brain, trying to remember what happened.

I left the safety of the tree, deciding to help them with Brutus. They hung him up, then I slit his throat and—There was blood, I had a flashback. I don’t want to remember anymore right now.

I can’t believe I passed out in front of them. Did they do anything to me? My clothing still seems to be in place, and I don’t feel any different, like I’ve been touched… down there. And the fact that Weston is holding my hand right now eases something in me.Bad guys don’t hold hands, do they?

As hard as I try, I can’t stop thinking about the blood that was on me. I use my free hand to rub my face and I’m surprised when it feels clean, as does my hand.Did they clean me?

Emotions battle within me. I’m hopeful that maybe these guys might be okay, maybe they’re safe. But on the heels of that emotion comes trepidation and fear. Letting my guard down would be dangerous. I don’t know them, and being this close is a stupid risk.

Deciding I need to get to the safety of my hammock, I begrudgingly pull my hand from Weston’s, missing the comfort it brought instantly. As quietly as I can, I make my way out of the hut. I see my bag under the chair Kingsley is sleeping in and decide to leave it, not wanting to risk waking him. Instead, I quickly exit the hut and carefully make my way around the deck to the large tree trunk behind it.

I take my time climbing, since it’s so dark. It’s the reason I make sure to be in bed before the sun sets. Getting injured out here is no joke.

---