The Opposite of Paradise

So I'm a Hunger Games fan. Sue me.

♡

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Everything burned.

My skin was turning redder by the second, my eyes watered and my feet stung from the heat of the sand. I wished now more than ever that James had drowned in the ocean instead of my beloved sneakers.

I was on edge. The entire happy-go-lucky vibe the four of us had been thriving off of was starting to drive me up the wall. Who were we kidding? This wasn't some reality TV show where the producers will give us food and water if we struggled to hunt properly. We couldn't live off coconuts for the rest of our lives and we certainly couldn't protect each other against any wild animals. For all we knew, there could be packs of rabid beasts in the direction we were venturing.

We also hadn't seen any signs of other people since that tree canopy earlier in the morning and it was making my heart heavy.

What if we were the only survivors?

We had been walking for what felt like hours – it was all we seemed to do since the crash: walk. Walk, walk, walk, walk and walk. It didn't even sound like a word in my head by that point and I let out a sigh of frustration.

"What's up with you?" asked Ana to my right.

"We aren't getting anywhere Ana. Don't you get it? This is hopeless," I all but yelled.

She looked at me with wide eyes and reached out a hand to comfort me but I pulled back as if she was a disease.

"No stop it! This isn't some camping trip with our mates! We're stuck on this damned island and if we don't find something soon we're going to die."

My outburst had caused Dylan and James to stop in their tracks, both unsure of how to respond. Ana looked like she was torn between crying and hitting me, and honestly I felt the same.

"Look around guys," I said, waving my hands frantically at the large expanse of sand, "There is nothing here for us. We have been walking forever and come up with what? Nothing. It's like we're walking in bloody circles."

"Mia, if this is about Sephora then I think we sh–" started Ana.

"It's not!" I bit back. It is. "This is about all of us getting the hell off of this island and I'm starting to think that it's never going to happen."

My words were met with silence. Ana was chewing on her bottom lip and avoiding my gaze along with Dylan who was suddenly very interested in picking at his nails. James was looking at me with a curious expression as if he was trying to figure something out, holding my gaze. Something about his stare made me choke up and I was forced to look away, sinking to my knees in the sand.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the tears came that had been building up ever since I sat with Ana on the plane wreck. They rolled down my cheeks in a never-ending stream of emotion that poured and poured and poured.

I was hysterical – burying myself deeper into the sand as I tried to escape the heat of the sun and the pain in my neck and the hollow feeling inside carved out by the possibility of Sephora's death.

Mia Bentley never cries. And yet here I was, breathing so heavily I thought I might feint, clutching at grains of sand to try and get a steady hold on the reality I was cursed with. My head was spinning, and I felt as if I might throw up again if I tried to stand up, so I stayed where I was and tried to stop my hands from shaking.

I don't know how long I was sitting there for until I snapped out of it. Slowly, my breathing steadied and the bruises on my skin became more painful than the thought of Sephora and I wiped my cheeks of any remaining tears. I felt pathetic. I was ashamed that I let myself look so broken in front of these three strangers and lifted my head tentatively to gage their reactions.