B-2 17

A. R. Castle

"Stop it.." The girl mumbled, feeling herself gently being shaken awake. The rocking didn't stop despite her groans of protest. "Stop.. I'm tired..." she went to push away the heathen attempting to wake her only to feel empty air... and what was that noise? She finally, after groping around the air for a moment to double check someone wasn't messing with her, blinked open her eyes. Then her drowsiness faded into panic. This wasn't a bed. When did she even sleep? She sat up quickly and drew in a quick breath. Where was she?! She swerved around. She was on a raft. In the middle of the ocean. Probably the middle. She didn't even know her own name.. much less where the hell she was.

I don't know my name! It hit her suddenly. What was happening?? She wakes up on a wooden raft in the ocean, with no memory of who she is or how she got there. "God DAMMIT!" She shouted, more frustrated then scared at that moment. The rocking raft didn't seem too promising for safety. One minor storm and she would be swimming. By the looks of her clothes, she's been having a rough time for awhile. Barefoot. Blue jeans with rips and tears here and there. Not in a fashion way. More in a "been stranded for quite awhile" way.

And her shirt! Soaked with salt water and probably sweat too. Her only belongings outside of her clothes was a raggedy baseball cap for the Seattle Mariners. She eyed it for a few moments. Was she from Washington then? She checked the inside of the hat. In smudged sharpie was 'A. R. Castle'. Tucked in the hat was three dollars. She rolled her eyes. That'd help her, wouldn't it? Maybe there'll be a market in hell where she could get a slushee for three bucks.

So her initials were A. R. Castle. She guessed she was maybe seventeen? Eighteen? Age doesn't matter at the moment anyway. Even if she knew, it wasn't going to help her get off a rickety raft in the middle of the ocean any quicker. She sighed and put the Mariners hat back on her head. Maybe it'll be good luck. She squinted at the sky to determine her luck with the weather. It wasn't horrible at the moment. Cloudy, but pretty calm. She guessed she wouldn't die in at least the next hour or so.

Was she a Rolling Stones fan? Why was she wearing a Rolling Stones shirt? Because it's a shirt. If you don't wear a shirt in public, that's called streaking. She mused. Not if you wear a sweatshirt. She argued. Well then that's wearing a shirt. She reminded. But why a Rolling Stones shirt? She asked. Why are you worrying about why you're wearing a Rolling Stones shirt? She demanded. You're right. Sorry. "You're losing it, Castle." She sighed, rolling her sleeves up. She peeked over the side of the raft and didn't like that fact she couldn't see anything.

There could be a shark underneath you right now and you wouldn't even know. "Shut up." She muttered to herself, drawing back from the edge and laying down again and staring into the horizon. Stop being so dramatic. She criticized. I'm literally floating in the ocean on an unstable raft. I have the right to be dramatic. She argued, flipping over with an annoyed sigh. "I could be at a Seattle Mariners game right now..." She muttered before closing her eyes. And whose fault is that? "Not mine." She grumbled.

Whatever you say, Castle.