Castaways

22::Hannah Montana

Pay attention to the dates.

October 26 6:11 AM

I had been awake for over twenty-four hours. Andrew lay asleep softly next to me, my head on top of his chest. It was quite soothing, actualy. His chest would rise up and down and he would blow out air from his nose that would tickle my forehead.

I've been struggling to stay awake. Well, my body wants to sleep. My migraine? Keeping me up and awake. The moons light began to become too much for me, and once again I had emptied what little contents I had in my stomach last night. I was getting sick, that I knew. Lack of proper nutrition will come up and bite you in the bum. Take my advice. Don't eat cake.

Scratch that, eat cake.

Eat it all.

Jerardo was awake and asleep throughout the night, making sure he was tending the boat considering he's the only one who knows how. I didn't mind, and neither did Andrew.

Andrew fell asleep last night to me humming in his ear. I had told him many times that he can sleep and not watch over me, but he refused. He said the last thing he wants is for me to sleep and never wake up. Not when we've just made it off the island. Flattered by him caring, we just sat until I started humming a song. He eventually fell asleep.

This boat had food and a few things to rely on. There was a pocket knife and flare gun (duh), and the other stereotypical products.

The sun was just starting to rise and I felt my head increase with pain. Migraines suck. Badly. It felt like the room was spinning and my head was throbbing, and I sat up quickly and threw up into the water again. This time, however, it was bad. I expected to throw up the little water in my mouth, but I threw up blood. Frustrated, a few tears fell down my cheeks as I hacked up the yucky substance. Once I was done, I sat down and leaned against the boat, looking up at the clouds.

Where's the ibuprofen when you need it?

My body was exhausted, and I couldn't seem to function right. Honestly, at the moment I felt like death. My hair was a mess, my teeth are incredibly dirty, I've lost a lot of weight, I'm sunburned, I've got hairy legs, and I have a serious case of B.O.

But on the bright side, were so close to being home. One step closer to being found. Rescued.

So I can't give up, and I knew that. I felt like death, but I promised myself I wouldn't become death.

"You okay, chica? There's blood on your chin." Jerardo asked me. He was sitting in the captains chair, his leg resting on the table. I suddenly felt guilty for not paying him much attention. He was shot, for crying out loud!

I nodded, gritting my teeth at the small pain. "I got a nose bleed," i lied. "How are You?"

"Little pain. That's expected though. You know, this ain't the first time I've been shot."

I looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

He laughed. "My older brother discovered our papas gun when we were fifteen. Next thing you know, I snuck up on him and bam! Right in the chest. Barely missed my heart."

I chuckled lightly. "Who sneaks up ok someone with a gun?"

He cracked a smile. "Apparently me." He moved the steering wheel ever so slightly after looking at his compass. "what about you? Any funny stories of your childhood?"

"Nothing compared to be shot," I told him, burying my chin in my knees. "but my brother Brock taught our dog to do her business on command."

That made him laugh whole-heartedly.