20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Three

God, please forgive me before I die. I say, crying.

"Can you just shut the fuck up?" I hear him yell.

"It's none of your business!" I almost scream back. I don't know where this sudden anger comes from, but he has no right to talk to me like that.

"We're going to die, bitch, and you're yelling at me?" I say, and without thinking, I grab a plastic bag and vomit.

"Oh." That's all he manages to say. I feel humiliated, vomiting while shouting at him.

I turn away and let the tears fall freely. I know he probably wants to throw me out the window right now, but I don't care. I didn't choose to sit next to him anyway.

I listen to the screams and shouts all around the plane. Somehow, a cold numbness creeps inside me. Maybe I'm starting to accept this is the end. Maybe I've given up.

The flight attendants still try to calm passengers, though they look just as scared. Some have disappeared altogether.

The roaring noise irritates me, but I start to get used to it. A safety video begins to play on the screen but suddenly cuts off. I try to remember any of the safety instructions, but my mind is blank—like it's stopped working.

"What's wrong with you?" His voice breaks through as he sees me slowly closing my eyes and leaning sideways. I feel dizzy, the screams echoing in my ears.

I feel his hand on mine again. Then his hand cups my face, trying to make me open my eyes.

I try, but everything goes black. My breath escapes me. I lose consciousness.

⸻

I open my eyes slowly, struggling to understand where I am. My eyelids feel heavy, so I close them again.

I don't feel much—except that the guy next to me is holding me. I can smell his scent.

My hair is soaked. Part of my clothes are wet too.

No. No, don't tell me I'm in the ocean. Just thinking about it terrifies me.

But wait... if he's holding me in the ocean... why? I didn't expect him to be this gentle.

Where are Mom and Dad? I'm afraid to open my eyes because if I'm really in the ocean, I might pass out again.

"Hey," I whisper slowly. My mouth is dry, and it's hard to move my lips.

I hear whistles and the hum of engines. And water sloshing.

That confirms it: we're in the ocean.

I want to know more, but no—I won't open my eyes.

"You're awake?" His voice is weak. The sound of waves crashing is all around.

"No!" I scream like a child, kicking my legs wildly.

"What?" He sounds annoyed.

"Are we in the ocean?" I shout. I don't want to hear the answer, though I already know it.

My hand brushes the water. I scream again.

"You could open your eyes instead of flapping your mouth," he snaps. "And don't forget I'm holding you—your screaming might make me throw you overboard."

His tone is harsh, and I don't blame him. But I can't help myself. He should understand—this was my first time flying. How I regret it now.

I don't open my eyes, but I shut up. I don't want to imagine what would happen if he really threw me.

"Where are Mom and Dad?" I say, my throat so dry I clear it loudly.

"I don't know," he says. "But I can go look for them if you want."

I think he's teasing me. He knows I won't let him leave me here alone. I can't swim. If he leaves, I'll die. He's taking advantage of that.

"Don't you see them?" I beg through tears. "Please... save them."

"I don't know them. If they're here or not, I can't say. But you know them well—so open your eyes," he orders.

I open my eyes just a little but close them immediately, covering my face with my hands.

I hear him chuckle at my childish reaction.

I hate the ocean—not because of its size or its power, but because I can't swim.

He chuckles again despite everything. "You really hate water, huh?"

I hear a boat approaching. A big wave splashes over my face.

He lifts my head up, but the cold water makes me pass out for the second time.

I knew I couldn't last long. Hanging onto a stranger's neck in the middle of the ocean is more than I can bear.

I'm terrified he'll leave me. Of course he needs to swim, and he won't take me with him. Why would he?