Does It Hurt? (26)

Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo!

Seeing Sawyer on the beach fucked with my head more than I expected it to. I had a mouthful of shit I planned to say to her, but the only thing at the forefront of my mind was to teach her a lesson. Taking her out on the boat wasn’t planned. Fucking her again definitely wasn’t planned. And now, I regret all of it.

I know better than to go out on the water without checking the goddamn weather, but today… God fucking dammit.

It’s my own fault, yet I still want to kill the little blonde thief for it anyway.

It was never my intention to kill her, and my stomach is twisted with the knowledge that I might have anyway.

“Enzo!” she screams, snagging my attention. I turn to find a massive wave building up over the boat, like Poseidon himself is reaching up from the depths of the ocean and preparing to grab onto the vessel and pull it under.

Time slows, and my heart drops. And I know… I just know that this one is going to send us over.

“Sawyer! Get up here!” I shout, but she’s already clambering to the helm, eyes wide with panic.

Just as she slams into my chest, the wave breaks, and I grab her face, forcing her wild gaze to mine.

“Deep breath, baby.”

Seconds later, the wave is crashing down upon us. A loud scream rings in my ears, but only the echo of it remains. My vision is snuffed out, and freezing water encapsulates me. I’m swept up in a powerful riptide, and the only thing I can do is succumb to nature’s will.

I feel myself spinning as I’m ripped away from Sawyer and dragged down into the deep ocean, nothing but blackness surrounding me.

Instinctively, I kick my legs, forcing my eyes open to find my bearings. The salt stings, but my adrenaline supersedes the pain. Above me, the Johanna is belly-up and quickly nose-diving toward me.

My chest burns with the need for oxygen, but I can only think of one thing.

Where is she?

Swimming with all my might, I search for Sawyer but see nothing except pieces of broken wood drifting by.

I breach the surface and immediately suck in a lungful of air, only to choke on it. Taking another deep breath, I bellow, “SAWYER!”

But the sea is unforgiving, and I’m swept up by another wave, sending me spiraling once more. I’m growing tired already, so I force myself to relax until the tide releases me. Only for me to kick toward the surface once more.

Her name is the first thing out of my mouth the second I break the surface, but it’s no use. My voice is only swallowed by the thunder, and I’m being dragged under again.

I can’t let this be it. I can’t let it end this way.

But then I’m slamming into something hard, and everything goes black.



Enzo.

Wake up, please.

Please, please, wake up.

Even in death, her voice haunts me. It's tragic that I can't escape her—my own undoing. But then something is tugging me out of the bottomless pit of darkness I’ve settled into. I’m comfortable here. Content. Something I only feel when I’m swimming along with a great white.

“Enzo.”

Her voice sharpens, becoming louder and harsher to my ears.

Slowly, the feel of gritty sand digging into my cheek registers, and then the lapping of water periodically splashing against my face.

It’s hard to breathe. My lungs produce a loud wheeze, and after a moment, a fist lands painfully on my back. Liquid rushes up my throat, forcing me fully awake and plunging me deep into a coughing fit, water pouring from my mouth.

Jesus, fuck, she should’ve just let me drown in it.

“Oh, thank God,” her sweet voice filters in, saturated with relief.

Pushing myself to my hands and knees, I work to catch my breath while cracking open my eyes. Squinting against the burn in them, my vision filters in. I’m staring down at sand that’s clustered with gray rocks. It's dark outside now, but the moonlight and stars are bright out here.

Sawyer kneels before me, her hands resting on her knees as she stares at me. Lifting my gaze to her, I find her cutting a look over my form, likely checking for injury. Then, her blue irises meet mine again.

She doesn’t look much better off than I feel. Curly hair a tangled mess, jean shorts tattered, and her exposed skin is covered in dirt and scratches, dried blood crusting over them.

I’m almost angry at how relieved I am that she’s alive.

I don’t want her death on my conscience, I tell myself. But that sounds hollow even in my own goddamn head.

Fuck.

How long has it been? How long have we been here? Wherever here is.

“Your head is bleeding,” she informs me. “Doesn’t look too terrible, though.”

I sit back on my heels and brush my hands over my temple, hissing when it stings. The wound is clotted, and I can feel the blood crusted down the side of my face, though infection is still a possibility.

“How long have you been awake?” I ask, pulling my stare away from her and looking up to find a massive, imposing lighthouse.

It’s decrepit, the red and white stripes ringed around the building chipped and blackening. It sits upon a treacherous rock cliff, and the sight of it has dread’s sharp claws sinking into my skin. It appears like it came out of a horror movie. Of course, this is our only option for refuge.

It's too dark to see exactly how big the island is, but it doesn't seem to span more than a few miles. From what I can tell, the land is mostly barren, save for what looks like more rock cliffs.