Where They All Go

~Chapter eight: Pain~

Day six

You know what's not pleasant to wake up to? Screaming. My brain is slow from cold and hunger and I don't register it at first. But then it slowly sinks in. And I'm up and by Swazi's side before I'm even fully awake.

"What's wrong?!" I ask.

She is lying in the water, her face pale and sweaty. "Got my foot out,"

I "very elegantly" make my way over to her foot and lift it out of the water gingerly. It doesn't look good. It looks dislocated. But I can't be sure, because I was a disappointment of a son and didn't go to medical school.

Suddenly, Swazi wrenches her foot out of my hand and kicks me in the balls. I quickly give her her space.

"I'm sorry, Swaz," I say softly, raising my hands.

She takes a shaky breath and lets it out slowly. "It's okay Jac," she says rubbing at her eyes.

"Are you sure?"

She turns her startling beautiful eyes on me and says calmly:
"It's fine Jac. Old habits die hard I guess."

I smile nervously. "I'm not sure I'd call kicking guys in the groin a habit, but that's just one man's opinion."

She scowls at me. "Don't make me do it again."

She proceeds to ignore me and study her foot intently instead.

"That looks like it hurts," I say. Like an idiot. God! Why am I so stupid sometimes?!

"That's because it does hurt!" She snaps back, but then seems to regret it so she quickly adds, "Sorry, I guess the hunger is getting to me sooner than I thought."
Don't apologize, the snap was well deserved, my friend. I move back to my corner of our crater.

"Next time I fall asleep, please try not to kill yourself," I say, frowning.

"Yeah sure," She says, scowling, "At least I got my foot out."
Damn it Jac. She thinks you were frowning at her. Shit. I don't say anything back, I'm not trying to dig myself a deeper grave.

I keek at Swazi one last time to make sure she's alright before I go back to my fever dreams. Her face is still pale, and there's a strange look in her eyes.

"You alright there Swazi?" I ask.

Her head snaps in my direction.

"Yeahhh..." she says, slurring.

Her head flops to the side, and her eyes begin to cloud.

"Swazi?!"

She doesn't react.

Screw it. I grab her under her shoulders and gently lay her down, her head in my lap.

She stares at me with confused, barely open, eyes.

"Come one, don't die on me," I whisper, but I know she can't hear me.

I pat her cheek weakly, afraid of hurting her. "Please, Please, Don't die." I don't know who I'm begging.

Her eyes go blank and finally close. She's still breathing, but she's unresponsive. Like a breathing corpse. A coma patient. Fear winds its way around my chest and begins to squeeze. What if she doesn't wake up? What if I die before she wakes up? What is wrong? Why can't I do anything? Why am I so useless to everyone?

With shaking hands, I carefully pull her hair out of her face. I take my hands away and they hover worthlessly over her face. Such young beauty. Such young brokenness. With her hair out of her face, I can finally see the scars lacing her neck, collar bone, shoulders, and jawline.