Washed Up ≫ A.I

Chapter [14]

[Ashton Irwin]

The sun was extra close this afternoon and burning the top of my shoulders and head. I literally felt my scalp peeling from the sunburns and my cheeks frying with soreness. Out here, it was absolute hell.

The pacific has warm, dry air, even in January. A while back I slipped my shoes off after getting annoyed with the sand pouring in from my heels. By now, walking through the jungle and sand my old converses have torn at my toes. They were all dusty and holes ripped through the rubber on the bottom soles as well. My feet ached when I wore them but they also ached when I didn't.

One week has gone by and still no sign of rescue. I'm pretty much alone out here with these strangers. They all seem to get along well with each other but I keep finding myself as an outsider. They are trying to make this place their home already and I'm not even in the mood to be a part of playing house. Everything is out of proportion right now as the other six work together to build some sort of campsite out of this island. I refuse to help "get comfortable" because if I do then that means we are never leaving.

I stumbled through the thick sand with my shoes in my hand. Beads of sweat trailed down the side of my forehead which almost soothed the sunburns across my cheekbones. I was starting to get thirsty so I headed back towards camp again, wondering why I even walked all the way out here in the first place again.

I guess I was just trying to tire myself out for the day. I go night by night, tossing and turning over the leaves. When I'm frustrated enough with my own mind I get up and head down to the waves. Sometimes I take a piss but most of the time I just stand there by the tide. I see Benson do it all the time during the day but when he's down there at night I make a note to just stay where I am.

He's an oddball, he never speaks to us as another equal individual. More like a student or a lower ranking status. He must think he's all high and mighty because he's the oldest out of the group but where I'm from old is not wise, old is crazy.

Every night when I lay down the same recurring dream begins where it last left off and I wake myself up before the screaming starts now but before I had no luck. Denise is always up my ass every night now, telling me ways and techniques to get me to forget my dreams but it's not that simple. I don't want sympathy from anyone. The best way to escape it all is to pretend I am asleep.

When I was younger I used to have nightmares close to this after my father was taken away. I had therapy for years because of it and then when I moved to London several years back, the dreams just stopped. I used to record them in journals but now I don't ever remember them by the time I wake up the next day. It's unfortunate they have returned, I never knew how to get rid of them in the first place. It just sort of happened by the time I met Alana.

I could see the twins by the fire still in the distance. They were sitting close together and working on the last coconut left by Benson. I couldn't see anyone else but that didn't matter because maybe this time I could finally talk to one of the doctors in training about my insomnia. I was giving up because I was so exhausted now.

I picked up my pace and once I passed the double-crossed rocks in the water I noticed that Brandon had darted into the jungle. Benson was running up from the ocean line, waving his hands like a madman and screaming over towards the others. I ran faster once Denise threw herself up, and scattered around the campsite.

Benson immediately saw me and yelled, "There you are! Come quick!" He ordered.

I huffed nervously and ran down the beach towards the two, wiping my forehead down with the bottom hem of my shirt. Benson ushered me down the beachfront towards the water and was yelling over to Denise.