disclaimer: there are sections in this that are fairly flowery, description wise. I know this, it's intentional, it will become more story and less description just go with the flow, yo.
We're all so used to focussing our attention on others.
Everyone does it, whether it's subconscious or intentional. I'm not talking about being judgemental, merely observational. Perhaps you could call that a form of judgement though. We don't realise it, don't discuss it because it makes us feel guilty. Makes us feel like we're bad people, when really, we're only human. Although who can say that's a good thing. You may not even realise it, but the faces you pass, you're placing them into social classes, the rich, the poor, the middle. The subconscious decision that one of the two girls passing you is larger than the other, or thinner. You're brunette, and you're blonde. Judgement doesn't necessarily have to be considered as a negative thing. Perhaps it signifies that you're organised. An orderly person who has specific labels for specific groups of people.
But my point is, we spend so much time distracting ourselves with our judgement (although we will blame it on society for we don't see reason to take responsibility) of everyone else, so that we may avoid evaluating and placing that judgement on our own individual selves.
And even if you have already placed what you believe to be a judgement of your own self, you forget to consider your capabilities. Who you could be, as well as who you currently are. If pushed, how far would you go? How much will power do you have? You forget change is possible. And change holds a certain similarity to judgement. Both stand on the tightrope walk, the thin line between positive and negative. Between sane, and insane.
The sky was an azure canvas, stretching far beyond contemplation, a humble realm – accommodating pillows of cotton which floated with a sensitive elegance only the most ethereal of deer were likely to understand. Were there a ladder to such a height, Dillon was sure with each step-up, time would slow down. The clouds go about leisurely in their mid-day waltz, liable to utter shock were they to be shown a clock. Topaz ocean rippled cunningly, sheer power of deadly manipulation hidden beneath its shimmering beauty. Glimmering glory, the locals' exaggerations had not been so – exaggerated, after all. The distant island was decorated by menacing rocks, jutting from wave graced sand, horizon partially consumed by looming mountains. Beaches welcomed those curious enough, palm trees a unique emerald beneath the merciless glow of the sun, some rays biting through the clouds to highlight the island in a show of its range of impressive colours. A visible jungle promised undiscovered secrets, knowledge. Captivating, so much beauty cooed to her inner photographer, yet her gut still seemed to twist. It was that trance-inducing mystery, the thrilling notion of it all that foreshadowed fatality. Pins and needles in her feet remind her of where she stands, meters from the settling sea foam, the subconscious twiddling of her toes leading her deeper into the sun stroked sand which explained the slow growing burn against porcelain skin.
"You done taking pictures yet?" A voice called out from behind her.
Cerulean hues momentarily disappear, she blinks heavy – thoughtful, before turning to face her friends; two of the three sat a few spaces apart, the third, Harrison, standing nearer to her side. His expression was creased ever so slightly, apologetic for he knew how Dillon disliked being jerked from her dazes. "Yeah," softly spoken, her voice has a unique quality she was often complimented on. She's still distant, it's short lived however, a smile lifting plump, pale lips. "So that's our island, huh?"
"I mean I don't see any other islands," Levi replied, puffing on the joint balanced between his thumb and middle finger.
Dillon rolled her eyes. "Man, I told you to quit the sarcasm when you're buzzed. There's islands fucking everywhere." Levi only snorted before taking another puff, slicked back hair battling the vague breeze. Black with an undercut, the top section was only amplified – one piece on the right side of his head falling out of place. It was like bringing an Italian mobster wannabe around with you, except with an American accent.
"He say when he's getting here, Jesse?" Harrison asked.
"Said around twelve." Dillon had been significantly in charge of the planning due to her organisational skills (she was the girl), but Jesse was in charge of looking at reviews and meeting their guides. He was the oldest, twenty-six fine years of experience, which – compared to the others was only one to three years older, but Dillon still insisted. Jesse's father had worked with the military, and so she was sure the guy had a better awareness of stranger danger and what not.
"It's twelve now," Dillon sighed, eyeing the gold rimmed watch adorning her wrist.
"Around twelve," Jesse emphasised his words this time.
"Levi, can you put that shit out before he gets here? Don't want this guy getting a bad impression or whatever," Harrison insisted, brown hues eyeing the joint.
Levi huffed, scrunching his nose up in disapproval before dropping it to the sand. A foot rolled over it several times and Dillon scoffed. Well aware that the asshole wouldn't get up himself, she stormed over, plucked the burnt out joint up from the ground and walked over to the nearest garbage bin. Levi didn't really care for nature, not like Dillon did. Working towards nature-related photojournalism had brought her closer to what the world had to offer, and she was slowly falling in love. She knew that had she left that joint where Levi had discarded it, she'd be haunted by the image of a seagull or fish choking on it for the rest of the day.
They'd arrived an hour early, mainly to take in the scenery. Jesse's friend Doug had recommended a boat ride around the distant islands. "Yeah my man, you can go look at the sharks and all sorts of shit! Obviously not swimming with them but you're here t' get fucked up, right?" He'd laughed. Making eye contact with her specifically, he added, "perfect for photo ops. Hey! I actually know a guy with one of the boat companies. Want me t' hook you guys up? Friends 'n' family discount an' all that."
Jesse knew the guy, somehow. The buzzcut and slender yet muscular form had her questioning just how they'd met, as that wasn't the type of guy buff Jesse tended to hang around. Then again, he hung around with Levi so it would make sense. Either way, they were going to board a little boat to go and look at what Bangkok's ocean had to offer. She couldn't deny her excitement. This really would be an awesome opportunity for photos. Besides, they hadn't come here just to get high and drunk.
Harrison had suggested the trip, well aware of how life's stresses were weighing down on his friends' shoulders. Harry was on his break from University, his studies mentally frying him. He'd been working hard to get into his desired career, teaching English, but his goal was to teach at one of those private and exclusive schools. The ones where the posh kids go. Harrison had attended one back in London and ever since he developed a crush on his English teacher, he'd aspired to be just like her. Dillon had always teased him about it. The two had grown up together. She'd met him in high school, or secondary school. He'd moved from Manhattan, NYC at around four and had travelled to England with his parents. He didn't remember much about America, but a part of him was desperate to return – with Dillon. When she turned twenty, Harrison had convinced her to come with him. He was twenty-two and had previously had a stable job that supplied him with the sufficient funds to go and stay out there. Having rich parents also helped.
The two moved over to the land of the free, so they say, and Dillon rented an apartment with Harry, who she considered a best friend.
After a short time in Manhattan, they met Jesse, a future law graduate who took an interest in crime-related topics. Jesse already knew Levi, and so they were shortly acquainted with him. Levi was a part time model and had just finished studying fashion, which he held an intense interest in. He always suggested items for Dillon to try on and the funny thing was, Levi was as straight as a ruler. It didn't take long for the four to form a close bond, and three years later, they stood in Bangkok, embarking on their wild adventure. It hadn't been very wild so far, however. Dillon was relieved either way. It was nice to break from life's hounding necessities.
Once again, she was jerked from her daze by the sound of a rumbling engine. It was heard before it was seen, but swiftly appeared and ghosted the island's shore. Dillon wasn't a boat expert, but it could be compared to one of those speed boats. It's strange to her, for she's sure this was a tourism related company – those usually had some form of advertisement on the side. This boat was simply black, no additions to the paint job and no signs printed on. Her camera was lifted, and she quickly snapped a picture, merely to do some research later, on who the company actually was. Doug hadn't really told them all that much. Besides, if the trip was any good she was sure she'd have to recommend it to people later.
"That our guy?" Levi drawled.
"How about we go and ask?" Harrison suggested, sarcasm hinted in his tone.
Jesse was first to start towards the boat, followed by Dillon and then the other two. Sure, her gut was still twisted, her nerves a far cry from calm, but it was probably just excitement, and she knew if she refused to do it she'd regret it.
"Excuse me?" Jesse called out to the man at the boat's wheel.
The man stood, his expression as solid as his muscular form, clad with black skin. Neutral, he raises a hand as a form of acknowledgement.
"We're waiting for a boat ride. Are you –" Jesse was interrupted by the man's thick accent, west African undoubtedly.
"You are here from Doug, yes?" He responded, red tank top hanging loosely from his top half.
Jesse paused, looking to his friends and then back. "Uh, yeah! We good to get in?"
The boat driver stepped into the shallows and walked to them. "You pay now."
Dillon's conscience scrunched its face up at how blunt the man was being. For someone interacting with customers daily, answering their questions – of all nationalities, it's surprising he doesn't appear to know much English. Either that, or he can only be bothered to give short responses.
She wasn't a skeptic usually, but the discomfort crackling over her skin led her to questioning.
"Sure man, how much are we talking?" Harry inquired.
"Four thousand four hundred baht," the man stated.
"Holy shit," Levi, who was clearly still high, howled out.
Harrison waved a hand at him. "It's cool man, that's like a hundred pounds in England. One hundred 'n' thirty something in dollars. That's cheap for the four of us!"
"Not four!" The man corrected harshly. "Each."
Harrison's eyes widened. "Woah, hold on, one hundred each? I thought Doug said he could hook us up!"
"That's fuckin' robbery," Levi grumbled.
"One hundred each or no boat," the man responded.
Jesse sighed. "Could you just give us one second man?"
The other nodded, arms crossing over his broad chest, impatience lingering in his stance. Jesse turned to his friends. "You said you wanted to do something cool, right? And hey, for that price it's gotta be pretty fucking good, right?"
Dillon rubbed the back of her head, blonde hair tied up into a tight pony tail. She would've worn it down but it travels down to just above her hips and on a boat ride – I'm sure you can imagine. Levi was right, holy shit. It did seem overpriced but then again, they were tourists. "I'm in," she breathed, hoping she wouldn't regret the pricey spend. It's for your album, she reminded herself, but the tension in her shoulders didn't seem to fade.
Harrison glanced to Dillon and then to Jesse before nodding. "Yeah, me too."
It was clear that Jesse was already in, and Dillon wondered whether he'd go alone if the rest of them refused. Levi rolled his eyes and gave a disgruntled groan. "Yeah, yeah fine."
Wallets were pulled from their pockets and they forked over their quarter of the money into the hands of the thief guide. Robbed blind, she'd never understood the expression until now.
"Can we have your name?" Dillon asked. It was only good sense to call someone by their name, although she had a couple of other names for this guy.
"Felipe," the man declared. All too happily, he stuffed the money into his pocket before stepping back out into the shallows. "Come," he gestured for them to follow. She couldn't help but feel little to no surprise when he didn't assist in helping them onto the boat. Dillon clambered in on her own, rejecting Harrison's offered hand but thanking him afterwards. She was capable, and even though she knew Harry didn't mean it as any form of doubt, but it was just a personal thing.
"Sit down," Felipe commanded, turning the key in the ignition, causing the engine to snarl back to life.
"Do we – do we get any life jackets?" Dillon queried.
"No," was the sharp response she got, followed by a blunt "hold on," before the engine revved and they were moving.
At some point during that, she'd seated herself beside Levi who was holding on tight enough for Dillon to doubt his 'I don't give a fuck' attitude as real. The sudden change in breeze was a shock to her skin, the air now colder as it tore through trailing strands of hair. As promised, they were taken further out into the deeper waters and now that she was on top of the great blue she was suddenly aware of just how deep and big it was. Terror gripped at her, forcing her hands to grip just that little bit tighter onto the rope on the edge. She could see fish now, darting about beneath ripples of glittering blue. It was only a matter of time before the bigger fish appeared and that was also a factor of her current fear. It was thrilling fear, knowing that – were she to fall in – there was the minor potential that she could get grabbed by a shark. No other boats could be seen at this point. Not on this section of water.
Dillon raised her camera and snapped numerous photos, some of the waves springing from beneath the boat, some of the island now that they were closer to it, even one of the boat driver's right upper half, skin glistening with sweat beneath the heat, the flash of his red tank a nice addition. Observational. A keen eye for detail, one might say. The boat slows, eventually coming to a stop and everyone is silent, most likely rendered incapable of speech due to the risky ride. The chill of fast colliding air is swept away by the sun's rays and it doesn't take long before someone calls out "shark!"
"Where?" Levi asks, frantically searching the water. Dillon immediately spots it, a vague rise in the water, closing in on their position and she wonders what's going through the shark's mind. Probably as much curiosity as there is in hers.
"Over there," she whispers, giving Levi a nudge – pointing to the fin. She snapped a picture, zoomed in close enough to see its eyes, black voids of vacancy as it hunted. So many rumours, and yet this creature was only doing what everyone else did. It was surviving. She'd always heard about people being attacked by sharks. Eaten by them and dragged down to drown by them. It hadn't really crossed her mind that, technically, it was the victims' fault. Humans invade nature without hesitation, but retaliate when nature tries vice versa.
Everyone's captivated by the experience, watching the shark's every move whilst watching carefully for other movement in the water. It was difficult to distinguish animal movement from the waves and so every now and again when water splashed against the side of the boat, gazes flickered nervously.
Felipe, however, seemed completely disenchanted, a cigarette protruding from his lips as he lit the end and puffed it. Dillon was confused, more than anything. He probably did these trips numerous times a day, but she still didn't understand how anyone could become bored with scenery like this. With animals like this. She didn't think her fascination would ever cease, were she in Felipe's position.
"Will we be journeying further out?" She asked hopefully. They'd better be, having paid that kind of money.
"We wait here for a while," Felipe replied. His every word came across aggressive, like that bartender or barista who's impatient whilst you're listing your orders.
"Wait here?" Levi repeated, irritation creeping across his expression. Levi wasn't a bad guy. He was fun to hang around with, but he tended to become a bit of a drag – after a drag, ironically.
"Listen, Felipe, we were told you'd drive us around the islands. That's what we paid all that money for," Harry reasoned.
Felipe snorted, taking another puff of his cigarette. "Driving scares sharks," he justified. "We sit, they come."
Dillon clutched onto her camera and held it close. Obvious testosterone tension was rising amongst the men, and she decided to bring herself away from it, zooming in on the nearby island to scout the land. She didn't expect to see anything, hopeful to stumble across a bird or maybe even something a little bigger but what she definitely didn't expect was to see people. Men in blue tops, their faces decorated with some sort of black markings. Her brows rose, interest piquing, along with her voice. "Hey Felipe, who're they?"
Felipe's attention was averted from the previous tension and onto Dillon, who pointed to the distance. "Who?" He grunted, squinting.
"There's a couple of guys wearing blue. Are they tourists too or? Wait – can we go to the island?" She sat up a little taller, waving to the people in the distance. They seemed to see her, their gazes directed at the boat, but they didn't wave back – only pointed.
"Stop that!" Felipe barked.
Dillon jumped at the order, her hand shooting back down to her side. "I'm sorry I – don't understand? Why can't I wave at them?" She exchanged gazes with her friends in question.
Felipe's attention diverted to the distance and Dillon followed his line of sight. She spotted a boat, closing in on their position and she couldn't understand why they were coming to their boat. Was it another guide checking in on Felipe? Maybe Felipe had called someone because Levi kept glaring or? No that couldn't be it, Dillon hadn't seen him raise anything other than his cigarette!
"Um, who's that?" Her brows furrowed, worry lines evident.
The four turned to look in that direction, Dillon using her camera to zoom in on the boat and the faces amongst it. Similar to Felipe, they wore red tops, but further study showed white markings on the shirts. She couldn't quite make out what the markings were, they resembled a skull or something but that would be strange for guides, right? There were quite a few of them too! Why were there so many on one boat? Didn't they each, individually have a boat? Questions sprang to mind, that maybe Felipe was an imposter? And these were the real guides coming to get him! She glanced back to Felipe and noticed how he didn't seem concerned in the slightest. In fact, his arm muscles twitched restlessly.
"What the fuck is happening?" Harry hissed.
"I don't – " Dillon's concentration cut her off as she studied the guide's some more. They were muscular, like Felipe, all seemed to be men and they wore cargo pants. She lifted the camera sight a little more to find she couldn't make out any of the men's faces, red and khaki bandanas covering from their faces from the nose down. One man however, wasn't wearing a bandana. She could make out the unmistakable mohawk atop his otherwise bald head, but other than that— panic struck her right in the gut, the twist that had settled there now churning – tightening. "Oh my god!" Guns. She'd spotted their guns, the AK47s in their grip. "Guns! They've got guns!" Why would they have guns? Bandanas and skulls and! It clicks. It comes together in a swift wave and she's overwhelmed as she sees the other boat is only a few metres away. These weren't guides. Panic shoots through everyone else and Jesse tries to find reason as Levi starts shouting blame at Felipe and Harrison tries to get a hold of Dillon because she's gone pale and looks as though she may topple into the water with the sharks. She rises to her feet, wobbling against the boat's unsteady movements.
Felipe reaches for something beneath his seat and pulls out a glock, aiming it directly at Dillon. "Sit the fuck down!" He snarled, time seeming to slow down, and she wonders if she's climbed that ladder, wonders if she's in the sky because everyone's screaming, shouting and she's yanked back down to her seat.
"Afternoon Fucks, I will be your guide today, any questions please refrain from fucking asking them. I fuckin' hate questions," someone speaks, his voice drowning in and out of Dillon's mind and she feels drugged, panic searing. The other men were now aiming their guns at them, keeping them herded like sheep but Levi jumps to his feet and launches a punch directly into one of the stranger's faces, sending them backwards into the water with a shout. Another grabs Levi and tugs him to the other boat, drawing a dagger which is then pressed to Levi's throat.
"Move and I'll cut you!" His capturer growled. Levi ceased his rebellion and fell still in the other's violent grip. Numerous other men moved in, securing Harrison and Jesse with ease but Dillon wasn't having it. She rose to her feet once more, scrambling to the very edge of the boat.
"Don't fucking touch me!" She spat, terror causing her ears to ring, blood pounding like the hooves of a stampede against the ground.
A hand tightened around her wrist, snatching her freedom but only for a few seconds before she strikes out, kicking the man in the abdomen – sending him stumbling back. Dillon was a slender girl. She possessed some muscle, but overall, she was easier than most to grab and snatch. That's why she'd taken self-defence classes, so that even when her size and weight was a predicament, there was a way to escape dangerous situations. Maybe she couldn't necessarily escape this one without being shot, drowned or killed by sharks, but like hell would she let these assholes lay a hand on her.
"I like this one. She's got some real fucking charisma," she realises now that it's the man with the mohawk speaking, his accent overlaid with Spanish descent.
"Fuck you!" She choked, adrenaline fighting the newfound weakness causing her to tremble.
"Later," a smug smirk stretched across his lips. "I'm a little busy right now, Chica."
Her stomach plunges into a whole new sensation of nausea. It had been right all along. Gut feelings and all but she'd ignored it. Justified it.
"Felipe would you fucking secure her or do I need t' fuckin' do everything myself, huh?" The man scowled, pointing to Dillon.
Felipe approached and Dillon's right-hand curls into a fist, preparing to fight when – agony violently throbbed across the back of her head, stomach jerking as she stood in place, unmoving. Something had hit her. Her subconscious squeezes her shoulder, it knows long before she does. The butt of a gun had contacted her skull and her left hand released her camera, sending it clattering to the floor of the boat.
All emotion vanished, dissipated like the steam from a kettle into the open air and she stumbles, one more step which sends her over the edge of the boat. Her friends scream after her, she can hear the way Harrison's voice strains. He's useless right now, held by someone nearly twice the size of him in muscle and there's just no way he can get to her.
Water splashes around her and her vision darkens, sounds echoing in the blackness of her skull and she finds herself sinking, the sensation beyond what she'd ever bothered to consider. Something swims beside her, smooth skin meeting her arm and she knows it's a shark. Again, her subconscious is an unseen mime. Bubbles tickle plump lips as breath leaves her, death dawning. She'd be scared, terrified were she not in a state of paralysis. Sensory deprivation, she needed none of the equipment to feel detached – she already was. Her vision fades at the sight of an approaching hand, the scruff of her crop top being grasped. Then, she's out cold.