DAY 1
I'm going to die here. There's no way I'll survive if we aren't rescued. This morning, I was on a plane going back to LA. Suddenly it started to get really bumpy, like we hit a patch of bad turbulence. Then in an instant this guy behind me and a couple rows back gets thrown up against the ceiling and then falls back down. The plane starts to shake and groan and the oxygen masks fell down. People were screaming, but I couldn't open my mouth. I heard a noise behind me and felt this huge burst of air rush past me, but I didn't turn around to see what was going on, I guess I pretty much knew. At that point I don't think I prayed, or made my peace with anyone I'd been fighting with. I think I just shut my eyes and waited for the end to come. I guess at that point it would have been a relief.
But for some reason, here I am. 18 and I've survived a plane crash. How? I have no fucking idea, but I did. And so did 48 other people. I thought for sure every person on that plane would be killed, and me as well, but by some chance of fate we've been thrown together on this tropical hell-hole of an island and I'm alone. I mean I guess I could go up to someone, put together a conversation starter…not like I'm going to. I miss LA and the Smoothie King down the block and hell, I even miss my parents, the assholes that they are. They are 48 people on this beach and I haven't seen one person my age. Well, alive that is. I did see someone who looked about my age, but he wasn't flat on his stomach and not moving, and I was too stunned to check him out any closer. Imagine me, speechless. Words have always been my medium, like oil or clay…see what I mean? Poetry. But here, I can't seem to talk to anyone. I heard there was a doctor that survived, but I'm sure he has more important things to do than tend to me and the scary looking gash on my wrist. It even looks like I slit my wrist, only the cut isn't in a straight line…it's all a mass of blood and sand now, I can't really tell. At least maybe I'll get a cool scar. Listen to me! Shouldn't I be crying or screaming or something other than sarcastic and cynical?
Well at least I have food now. This HUGE guy came up to me and offered me meat or fish: an in flight dinner, sealed for my protection and just as gross as the first time. I chose the meat (no way would I eat fish, too slimy and scaly), and thanked him. He smiled and asked me if I was alone here. I nodded, and then he said the first thing that made sense to me the whole 5 ½ hrs. I've been here, "Bummer, man". Ahhh, someone I can communicate with. I ate the dinner quickly and felt sick afterwards, though I doubt it was from the food. I heard a noise behind me and leapt to my feet, running to the huge fire nearer to the water. There was a bunch of people already there; a girl with blond hair and a short skirt, sitting with a guy who looked like he wanted to be nearer to her but couldn't for some reason. There was a man who looked to be Middle Eastern and some person hunched over with a black hoodie up over his head. It looked like he was writing something on his hands. I looked down at my own and saw a few scribbles of important phone numbers and a crooked star I absentmindedly drew on the plane. I sat down on an empty seat and stared into the fire. I was just closing my eyes to try and imagine that I was sitting by the fire in a friend's house, listening to some music and just relaxing, when suddenly this loud noise came from the forest. Everyone jumped out and crowded around each other. I heard little bits things people were whispering, things like "Did you guys hear that?" and "What is that?" but I refused to get any closer than where I was. The noise continued for a little bit, and the trees shook, which maybe scared me more than the noise. I mean, anything can make a scary noise, but to make huge palm trees shake and fall down. That's something all together. Eventually people sat down and the silence continued, although this time it was out of fear, not lack of something to say.
"Hi.", said someone beside me. I looked up to see a woman, probably not too much older than myself smiling at me. She had long blond hair and to my surprise looked to be very pregnant.
"Hi.", I answered back, trying to smile but failing miserably.
"I'm Claire. Are you by yourself too?" she asked. God, did everyone want to know that? Somehow though I wasn't annoyed by her upbeat attitude and found enough energy to talk to her.
"Yeah. Yeah it's just me." She smiled.
"Me too. Well, I mean except for the baby." I looked down at her stomach. God was I glad I wasn't pregnant and stranded on a desert island. I felt enough sympathy for her not to say sucks for you though, which was a first. I guess I must have been stroking my wrist because Claire said, "You should go talk to the doctor about that, looks pretty bad. His name's Jack, I think." I thanked her and left the light of the campfire to go find this Jack. I went in the direction Claire pointed in until I saw a makeshift hut and a man kneeling over someone: Bingo.
"Um, excuse me, I was wondering, if you're not too busy, um, could you maybe check out my wrist?" He turned around and looked at me, then back at his patient. I noticed there was a lot of blood on his right side.
"Yeah. Let me see it." I showed him the wrist, wincing a little as he twisted it around. He grabbed a bottle of water and a torn piece of fabric and cleaned off the crusted blood and sand.
"I think I should sew this up, I don't want it to open up again." I nodded, a little uneasy at the thought of being "sewn up" anywhere but a white sterile hospital.
"Ok." I answered and he smiled and handed me a mini bottle of Jack Daniels. I unscrewed the cap, eager for anything to drown the fear and held it to my lips to down it.
"Wait. That's for the cut, not to drink."
"Sorry." I told him, a little embarrassed at the mistake.
"How old are you anyway?" He asked, putting some of the alcohol on the cloth and dabbing it on my wrist. A sharp stab of pain raced up to my shoulder and back down again and I cried out in a small voice.
"18." I croaked out. A few tears sliding down my cheek as he began to sew it up.
"That's a little too young to be so eager to drink Jack Daniels, don't you think?"
He finished sewing and I looked down to examine his handiwork. 16 fine little black stitches formed a sort of wonky star with a few missing sides. I scrunched up my nose and ran my fingers over them.
"Thanks. Thank you." I said He started wrapping a black strip of fabric round and round my wrist and then tied it off.
"Sure. Come see me again tomorrow night and I'll check on it." I nodded and turned to go back to the fire, exhausted and ready to sleep, hoping that I'll wake up in my own bed, and this all will have been a dream.
"Hey! What's your name?" Jack yelled.
"Stella! It's Stella!" I answered him, and continued on my way.
