Survive

Two

   Later that day, I was hit by something in the shoulder. It came flying through the trees of the jungle, like an arrow to a target. There was a strong stinging sensation that ran through my arm. As I clasped my hand around my wounds, I searched for what could've thrown with that strength.
"Son of a bitch." I said to myself. I didn't see anything or anyone, but I knew a bird couldn't do that.
"Whoa, Willow, what happened to you?!" Mason ran up to me as I walked into camp.
"Willow, your shoulder is completely swollen, and you've got bad bruises. What the hell did you do?" Cole tried to sound cool and collected, but a rising panic shone through his voice.
"Guys, I'm fine, I think. Look, I don't know what happened. I was getting more wood and something threw a coconut at me and hit me square in the shoulder." I tried explaining myself as clearly as possible. It was hard to recount the event when the pain was so severe.
"Well this couldn't have been an animal, maybe a monkey. There's no way a monkey could have that good of aim." Mason said, trying to make sense of the event.
"Well what else could it have been? It's not like there's anyone out there." Cole looked from my shoulder to Mason to me as if to find an answer.
"Guys, it's alright. I don't think I broke anything it just hurts like a mother-"
"Language!" Cole cut me off. Before the wreck I would always remind him to mind his language when he swore. Once we settled into camp, it started to get dark. Mason was inspecting my shoulder, twisting it gently and moving it about to see if I was seriously hurt. He concluded that I wasn't but wrapped my arm in large bandage-like leaves.
"I'd stay out of the water for at least 2 days if I were you." He cautioned.
"Alright, alright." I answered. I didn't think all of this was necessary, but I went along to avoid a conflict and long lecture on medical health. Like we knew anything about that.
The sun was below the horizon, but it's golden light still shone through the thick, humidified air. The fire was small, but enough to keep warm. The three of us sat solemnly around the pit. The flames danced so freely, they could move and go wherever they wanted. I'm beginning to think something is wrong with me, and it's not my shoulder. It's something mental, like at this point, I give up. I have lost the drive to walk, talk or even breathe. Every ounce of energy I had was driven to the simplest function. I hate this feeling. This constant sadness that wraps around my mind and body, sinking in to every nook and cranny of my being. I believe the diagnosis is depression. I have come to the executive conclusion to not tell the guys. I could only imagine what they'd say. What if they rejected me? What if they thought I was just faking? They'll probably think I'm being over dramatic, or that they'll know best and it's definitely not depression. They'll probably drone on in saying, "that's self diagnoses, and that's never accurate." This is terrifying! Is this really what people feel when they say they're depressed? What a terrible way to live, not being able to tell anyone how you really honest to god feel for fear of being thrown aside and beaten down.
This rising panic took hold of me, and I needed to get away, now. The boys were gazing lazily at the fire, as if they were warm goopy marshmallows, ready to fall asleep any second. Maybe they wouldn't even notice I left. Maybe they didn't even care about me anyway. I mean, honestly, I'm the most useless. I bet if they could they'd kill and eat me just to get me out of the way.
"I just realized, I left...I left something down the shore, I'll be right back." I got up and started to walk away before what I said resonated with either of them. Without any opposition, I walked further down the beach until the glow of the fire was out of sight. The jungle was closer to the waves down here, and looked as scary as ever at night. Regardless I made my way down to wear the waves pounded the sand and sat, hugging my knees into my chest. I wonder if Mason and Cole would be asleep by now, or if they were still awake, waiting for me to come back. I scoot closer to the water so that my toes could feel the coolness of the water.
Twenty minutes must have passed before I was snapped out of my daze by the close tussle of leaves from behind me. I searched the trees and ground for any sign of life that could've caused the noise. I slowly rose, still investigating my surroundings carefully. Inching closer, a shadow became visible through the dense overlap of leaves. It was tall, and dark, like a phantom you'd see on the ghost shows. I stopped about half way from the waves to the jungle, and stared.
"Hello?" Maybe it was another person. "Do you speak English? I won't hurt you if you won't hurt me. My name is Willow." The figure stayed perfectly still, and even though I couldn't see its face, if it had one, I felt like it was staring deep into my soul. "I'm a friend, I mean no harm." I kept calling to the figure. Then, it moved. No, it ran! It started running towards the camp! The boys! I had to tell them.
   I started chasing behind the figure, but it was too fast for me to catch up to. I was in sheer panic. This was all my fault, why did I have to go alone?
"Cole! Mason! It's coming! You have to...to move!" I was so out of breath from running after the shadow, my shouts were barely above that. When I finally came up to the camp, there they were, sound asleep. Seriously? And there it was. Lingering in the dark of the jungle. Watching.