The Lost Ones

Chapter 14

Kit sat by Skye's side, waiting for her to wake up. When she finally did, he had expected her to yank her hand away from his gentle clutch and start swearing all sorts of curse words at him.

But she didn't.

She groggily sat up, allowing him to help her. "What happened?" she questioned, rubbing her tear-dried eyes.

Kit didn't even know where to start. "A lot," he responded, almost laughing. "For now, let's just get out of here."

He helped her to her feet and, together, they found the exit, which had surprisingly been right behind the bedroom door.

When they reached outside, everything was covered in thick, white mist. The mansion, which had become a small, stone cubical building, vanished behind them. The entire island that they knew was gone. The lake, the grasslands, the hot spring, the caves they had made their home. Gone. All that was left was the two of them on a floating piece of ground.

But even that began to vanish.

Behind them, the land was being swallowed away by the mist, and Kit and Skye began to panic.

"Look!" Skye exclaimed.

A few feet in front of them, where the shore ended, was a medium-sized lifeboat floating in the ocean. A pair of paddles were neatly placed on the top, as if the boat was beckoning for them.

They didn't have time to think where the lifeboat had come from—and where the rest of the island went. If they didn't get off right now, they might never get the chance to.

The two darted towards the boat and as soon as they jumped in, the last of the isle vanished into thin air, and they continued to paddle their way through the foggy, vast ocean.

⸸ ⸸ ⸸

It was finally over.

No more struggling to survive on fruits and grass. No more hustling to remake the fire on bitter cold nights. No more having to go to the bathroom in the ocean. No more sleeping on a chilly, cave floor.

And no more Kit and Skye. Now that they were off the island, floating in a lifeboat, they were about to rejoin the rest of humanity again. No longer confined by the island and the ocean surrounding it, they had a choice of whether they wanted to separate from each other.

Kit watched Skye as she waded her hand through the calm sea. He paddled slowly, enjoying the cool breeze that refreshed them from the infernal heat of the high, afternoon sun.

He was glad to have made it out of the white mist that had eerily consumed the island. He wasn't sure what it was, but he could clearly tell that the ocean waters, the seagulls, and the blue, cloudless sky were as real as they could get, unlike everything else on that mysterious island.

He saw Skye turn to him. "What is it?" he questioned.

"I remember," she briefly responded. Her black hair was gently blowing back with the wind.

"Remember what?"

"How I knew you before the cruise. I knew you looked familiar." Skye continued to gaze into his eyes. "Does the name 'Saarne Institute' sound familiar?"

Kit nodded in awe. "Yeah. That's the place I went for therapy," he explained. "But how...?"

"That's where my parents brought me after I was let go by my kidnappers."

Kit tried to hide his expression. He had decided not to tell her about his dad being her kidnapper—or that he was her father's best friend since kindergarten. She couldn't remember any of it anyway and bringing up the past would only upset her and maybe cause a bitter relationship between them. That was the last thing Kit wanted.

"I was diagnosed with PTSD and depression," Skye told him. "That was about ten years ago, but I remember it clearly. You walked into Saarne Institute with that man...Father Roman."

Kit winced at the name. But he allowed himself to remember that day. Ten years ago, after his father died and his mom remarried the former priest, Father Roman brought him to the institute after a school teacher insisted that Kit see a therapist. The teacher had thought that Kit's withdrawn and detached behavior was because of his father's suicide, but it had actually been because that was when the beatings began. No one had suspected he was being abused by his stepfather at the time and, even after seeing a therapist for a month when he was nine years old, still nobody knew. Kit wouldn't let anyone know.

But Skye had seen through his pretense.

"When I saw that man tell you to wait in a seat while he checked you in, I noticed how distant you were. Kinda like how I began acting towards my own dad." Skye paused, glancing away before looking back at him. "I wanted to talk to you. But I was too shy to approach you. All I could do was stare—Your eyes, they were so blue...and so full of sadness. You looked how I felt on the inside."

It was as if Kit was reliving that day but from a different perspective. He wished he had remembered Skye. His mind had been too clouded up by everything but girls that morning.

Now Skye knew why. I don't know what kind of island that was. But somehow, because of it, Skye knows my past. And I know hers. I'm not sure if that's a good thing.

Kit continued to paddle again, but saw Skye move from her spot to beside him. When she placed her warm hand on his, he didn't pull away. He just looked into her solemn, grey eyes.

"I'm glad you're okay, Kitaro," Skye said in a soft voice.

Kit didn't even try suppressing his smile at the name she called him. "I'm glad you're okay, too, Skye," he responded. Maybe it isn't so bad that we know each other's pasts. We could help each other get through it.

Then he added with assurance, "The past is just a memory now."