Washed Up ≫ A.I

Chapter [4]

[Charlotte Kendall]

"Lan? Wait- where am I?"

My immediate response was to swallow. The bottom of my dress was pulled up and I squeaked almost forgetting that Tyson was just going to look at my injured hip.

I looked away from the man but kept noticing him from the corner of my eye. He kept looking back and forth between me and Tyson. Once I took a peek back at him, in the moonlight his eyes were nothing but black. His chest was pacing frantically, rising in sharp gasps of air. His black t-shirt with Led Zeppelin written across the upper torso, stuck to his wet chest, defining the lines of his muscles underneath.

"Who are you?" He asked frantically.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked again, scooting away from Tyson as he pulled my dress up to maneuver my hip. 

We honestly had no answers for him.

"Where are we?"  

"Calm down," Tyson motions toward the poor and confused man as he lifted his palm underneath my hip. Then Tyson took in a deep breath, bringing his attention back onto me, "Charlotte you dislocated your hip. When did this happen?" 

I looked back and forth between the boys breathing in sharply without words as well, "On- when I lost you, I fell down. . . o-on the ship." I don't know why I was stuttering but I honestly felt like I was going to throw up every time I spoke about the ship.

"Ship?" The man gasped, "You're both from the Croke Cruise?"

"We washed up here not too long ago," Tyson answered while his hands mindlessly pressed against my skin. Even as his fingers moved around the waistband of my swimsuit I felt my body shiver. But I grimaced next once he found my hip bone and felt around the swelling. 

"Do you have any clue where we could be right now?" The boy asked scooting back over to sit beside my head. I was breathing heavy looking up at his jaw and blinking between the boy's conversation on where the hell we could have possibly ended up. 

"We aren't sure where we've ended up." I watched Tyson's lips move hesitantly in response before I looked away with apprehension.

After that, my swallowing grew tighter around my throat. Tears crowded around my eyes before the warmth slid down my cheeks quickly. 

"Tyson please stop," I whisper while running both hands down to my hips to find his own. I allowed a whimper to slip past my chapped lips, "It hurts, please." I beg again.

Suddenly my dress is back down against my thighs and Tyson's arm snakes up to pull me upward into a sitting position, "There isn't much I can do as of now, we are just going to have to wait for rescue."

My cheeks were heated, beat red from the tropical sun and hot air. I wanted to cry out in pain for my hip and my heart. No one was coming, or at least they haven't so far and I much rather be dead at this point. My heart was slowly losing hope and everything was becoming a useless amount of time.

The boy beside us coughed up more water from his lungs and dropped his head in sorrow. I swear I heard him sniffle too as Tyson was stuck helping me stand on my own two feet again. 

"I'm going to lay you down in the raft is that okay?" He mentions.

I nod.

"Wait,"

Both of us turn sideways to catch the man beside us in the sand still. His face was bloody and scratched, sunken in bitterly.

He looked up, squinting towards the moon's bright shine, "Are you two the only ones?"