Those who were taken...
They never came back, dragged beneath the waves never to return.
Their haunting screams were a symbol of their horrific deaths.
Like shadows they lay in wait, the deep blue waters hiding them from view.
With sharp claws they...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~•~
Atlas can hear her crying on the beach behind him. He doesn't regret what he said--not in in the least. The girl was hell-bent on saving those humans even at the cost of her own life. Had she gone any deeper, she would have been found. The others of his kind would have taken her under the surface before she could even scream.
He is in his human body, and he would have been helpless to save her. She just wouldn't listen. She had no thoughts regarding her own safety. If she had been taken... He wouldn't have been able to stop them. Did she not understand that? Was she really so selfless? How could she risk her life for strangers she didn't even know?
She refused to listen to him and he had to make her understand. Atlas wouldn't let this happen again. She needed to know how fragile her life was. He had to make her understand... And he did that the only way he knew how. Of all the time he had spent observing her, he knew one thing for certain: she feared him. The human's fear of him was her fatal flaw--a flaw he could exploit.
He scared her--he had to. Atlas had no other choice but to utilize whatever leverage he had over her. He had to erase any thought of self sacrifice she would have in the future. These waters were deadly, and it seemed he was the only one keeping her from certain death.
Her gentle sobs painfully reach his ears as he wades into the water. Her soft cries feel like knives piercing his eardrums, urging him further away. The human's weeping was something he wasn't used to, as well as something he couldn't handle, especially since he was the one who caused it.
He had felt her trembling beneath his fingertips, her chest as it rose and fell in short pants, how her tears had fallen against his fingertips. She was completely at his mercy and he could have done whatever he wanted with her.
But he hadn't.
He does not understand his actions when it comes to the human girl, so he decides to leave it at that: a mystery. Instead of doing what his instincts and body demanded of him, he left her there, a small, broken girl in the sand. She is better where she is now than in pieces on the ocean floor.
Atlas trudges into the waves, the cool water easily welcoming him home and drowning out the girl's cries. He dives beneath the waves, a part of him feeling as though it were missing as he kicks with his human legs instead of gliding smoothly with the thrust of his tail. He swims further and further beneath the surface, his lungs thankfully able to maintain enough oxygen to keep him from returning.
The others are likely gone by now, as they never stay long. They usually make quick work of the bodies. The water is still relatively shallow by the time he reaches the crash site, shallow enough that the sunlight can still reach the bottom of the sea floor. He pauses his swimming as he looks over the wreckage, toes dragging in the sand. His body relaxes as all the smells of a fresh kill reach his senses.
The scent of blood fills his nostrils, almost catching him odd guard. His head rolls back and his lips part as the high of bloodlust enters his system. He used to love that high, that utterly rabid feeling that would wash over his senses and send him over the edge of sanity. He would lose himself in that feeling of carnal desire for blood and flesh.
Now he only dreads it. He spent weeks suppressing it, every time he was with the human. She would bleed, that crimson liquid rolling down her skin in rivulets of liquid bliss, yet he had to abstain. For whatever reason, he preferred her alive, but at what cost? The cost of his sanity? Until she had healed--with his help, eventually--his life was hell.
Atlas had spent many days just watching her, forcing himself to stay hidden as she would repeatedly rinse her wounds in the water. Her blood would mix and swirl in little pools around her as she scrubbed her skin. The only thing preventing him from caving into his carnal desires was the pain that would etch itself across her face--raw, excruciating pain that would make her lips quiver and tears drip down her pale cheeks.
She was so completely and utterly helpless, much like his mother had been that fateful day. The little human--Cally, as she called herself--was defenseless in every sense of the word. He had taken her that stormy day. He had taken her beneath the waves and held her captive as his very own human object. Just like... Just like...
Atlas' body grows cold as the harsh realization of his actions rises to the forefront of his mind. Is that really what he had done? Were his actions really so similar to those who had taken everything from him?
No, no.
He wasn't--he wasn't like them. This was different. This was payback. She is human--it is what she deserves! Humans are evil. They took everything he loved away from him... But has he not done the same? They had kidnapped his mother and they ki--
No, he was better than that. Maybe the reason he could never hurt the girl was because the situation had been so similar to hers. That... explains everything. Why did he help her when she was starving? Because she was helpless, just like his mother. Why did he save her only a few moments ago? Because Cally cared, just like she did.
Atlas swims down to the wrecked airplane, his appetite for flesh suddenly gone. He would not entertain those thoughts any longer. They were useless to him now. He circles around the crash, observing the various pieces sticking out of the sand. Judging by his past experiences with humans, he knew they always carried personal items with them. Hopefully he could find something useful to him and the girl, presumably still sobbing, back on the island.
Atlas is particularly careful to stay clear of the human remains, not that there is much left of them. He finds the usual knickknacks he always does: cell phones, wallets, cameras, and the like. Inside the plane's hull, it is a complete mess. Atlas pulls his way in, flicking various floating objects out of his way. The cabin groans and shutters as it settles deeper in the sand, but Atlas pays it no mind.
There are a few trunks full of human clothing, though none of them are similar to what the girl wears. Nevertheless, he grabs hold of a particularly large one before making his way back out of the sunken airplane. A few sharks and predatory fish have gathered around the scene at the fresh smell of blood. They circle around Atlas, who ignores them easily. He is much higher on the food chain than them, and they know it.
The trip back to the surface is much longer this time with the added weight of the trunk. When his head finally breaches the surface, he takes in a deep inhale, replenishing his lungs of lost oxygen. Atlas hates his human body.
When he reaches the shore, the water-filled trunk dragging in the sand behind him, the human is no longer in her spot on the sand. He takes this time alone to open the chest and flip through its contents. There are various bottles and containers that he chunks to the side. The clothes and footwear are completely soaked, so he sets them aside to dry in the sun.
He would never usually waste his time with these trivial human things, but he has a feeling a certain human girl would care for them. According to the smell of smoke, she has just started the fire back in the tent, reminding Atlas that she has yet to eat. How he wishes she could go at least three days longer without food like he can.
With a perturbed sigh, he drags the trunk up to the tent, but he does not enter. Instead, he leaves the clothes outside before turning around and heading back down the beach.
He gives one last look at the tent before returning to the ocean, this time for the intent of hunting food for his human.
