Lost At Sea

Chapter 10

Sorry guys, I'm late!! I was college shopping. My first year starts in two weeks, I'm so nervous. Anyway, I might upload twice this week since I missed a few weeks. Please comment, and vote if you like the story and want more. It's gonna get real intense, real fast. :)

It was 8pm, and Claire just finished cleaning everything and unpacking. Roman was up top, mapping their route to Italy for tomorrow. She climbed up to her bed, and opened the last bag that she left untouched all day. It was the burner phone she had bought. Her heart pounded as she opened it from its plastic casing, and powered it on. It came with a small charger which she put aside knowing she'll need it soon. The phone had half its battery life left.

She sat back against her pillow, pulling her knees up to her chest. Please let my mom still be alive, she thought to herself. After working up enough courage, she slowly typed her mother's phone number in. Taking a deep breath, she held it to her ear and listened to the ringing. One.......two.........three.........four..........five–– Hi! You've reached the voicemail box of ––

Claire slammed the phone shut. Her heart sank, and her stomach was doing flips. Her hands shook as she dialed the number again. The same thing happened, no answer. Fuck. Possibilities ran through her mind. Maybe she was kidnapped, maybe she was getting tortured, maybe she was dead. All because of her. This could not be happening.

She called the number four more times and they all went to voicemail. She chucked the phone across the bed and curled herself into a ball. All her anxieties came pouring out, and she completely broke down. Her body was wracked with sobs. What could she have done? This was all her fault. Blame consumed her mind, and tears flowed in hot tracks down her cheeks. Fifteen minutes went by on the clock, but it felt like hours. When would she see her mom again? Would she ever? Why did she come on this stupid boat in the first place? She should have just went home and ignored what her mother told her. Now her mom was in danger and it was all her fault.

Claire didn't even hear Roman come down the stairs. "Claire?" She didn't reply, squeezing her wet eyes shut. She felt the bed shake as he pulled himself up the ladder to her bunk. "Claire, I was just gonna make some–– what's wrong?" The minute he uttered those last two words, she cried harder, shaking her head into the pillow and pulling her legs tighter to her chest. She covered her face with her hand.

Roman went down the ladder. "Claire, come here....Come down here. The bottom bunk is comfier." He called up to her.

She pulled herself up, catching a glimpse of herself in the silver bed railing. Her face was red and wet with tears, and her ponytail was coming out. She pulled the hairband out, letting her hair form a curtain around her tear tracked face. She pulled herself down the ladder. Roman had the sheets pulled back in the bottom bunk, and she crawled under them, resting her head on his pillow. It smelled like Old Spice and peaches.

"Thanks Rom––" She stopped short when he rolled into the bed next to her. He threw the covers over both of them, and propped himself up to face her on one elbow. "What are you..."

"What kind of a guy would I be if I let a girl cry herself to sleep in the bed below me? You shouldn't be alone right now." More tears escaped her eyes, and she froze when Roman reached up and used his thumb to brush them from her cheeks. His hand was soft against her face. She put her face into the pillow so he couldn't watch her anymore, and let herself cry in silence next to him.

He got up briefly to turn out the lights and put away the food he was making for himself, and in those few minutes, Claire felt alone. She felt so much better having him next to her, and it brought her the comfort she didn't know she needed. When the room went dark, she felt him next to her again. His body was warm and she focused on the slow rising and falling of his chest. A few moments passed, the calm swaying of the boat consoling her. She let her voice cut through the silence, "Roman?"

He turned to her in the darkness. "My mom didn't answer. I called her six times. What if she's––"

"She's not," he whispered. "She's probably busy, or asleep. You would know, you'd just feel it if something was off."

"You think so?" Her voice was shaky.

"Yes. When my mom passed in the middle of the night," he paused. "I woke up the next morning, and I knew. I just knew. I felt it down to my bones." He stared at her, and the moonlight that was coming in through the door upstairs shone just enough that she could make out his blue eyes in the dark. They were intense; reassuring. She stared between his eyes for another beat, before resting her head on the pillow again.

"Thank you," she squeezed her eyes shut, letting one final tear escape onto the pillow. Roman reached his hand out to her face again, this time letting it fall softly against her hair. He pushed the strands from her face, and ran his fingers through it. He kept stroking her hair, twirling pieces between his fingers, and letting it fall against her shoulder. It soothed her and momentarily distracted her from thoughts about her mother and what could be. Roman's large hand entwined in her hair was the last thing she remembered before letting sleep consume her body.