Finding Love Chapter 21. Title: How many Feet do you really need anyway?

The sun relentlessly illuminated my surroundings. Warming me to the point of nausea. The blood, my blood around me warmed into a sticky sludge. Everything was caked with it. Sticking me to the earth.

The smell of my warmed blood caused the increasing burn in my throat to grow. I had never tried to drink my own blood. The temptation caused my stomach to roll. If I laid here I would drink myself to death.

Pushing with my arms I rolled so my face was looking at the sky. The sun was directly overhead now. How long have I been bleeding out on this rock? My body felt like it had been turned to stone. A mix of disuse and overuse.

Bile flooded my throat. I flipped vomiting into the dirt. I could feel the hot bile splash back from the ground and into my face. I needed to move. Needed to drink. Needed to eat. Needed to wash the bodily fluids off my body.

The ground seemed to try to envelope me. It wanted me to give in. Lay down and forget. Forget the pain I am in. Forget the agony of thirst. Forget the pain of my father's disapproval. Lay down and close my eyes to the sun. Close my eyes to the stars and the moon. Just breathe until I did not need to breathe anymore. Melt into the dirt. Embrace the comfort of the island that was my childhood home. Lay here and never get up again.

'Get Up'

I closed my eyes.

'Get Up'

My shoulders relaxed.

'Get Up'

My body repelled from the earth. It had a will of its own. Stumbling into a tree I held myself upright. The shade hit my skin. I felt how warm my skin was. Radiating warmth like, like a burn. How long had I been laying in the sun? My skin felt leathery, tight, it pulled across my bones, unstretching. Testing it I stretched my shoulders. I felt a tear, screaming. I focused on the skin between my shoulderblades. Feeling the thick blood escape from the gash I caused.

I needed to move my arms. I needed to try. I needed to lay down. I needed to be free from this pain. I screamed again. The pain caused my eyes to dry. I had no water in my body to create the tears I needed.

If I don't move I will die. This is what death feels like. I stumbled forward. Knowing if I walked in this direction I would make it to the house. If I make it to the house I can eat food. I can drink my emergency supply of blood. I can call for help.

I counted my steps. One. I screamed. My foot cried out in pain as I put pressure on it. Falling to my knees I screamed out again. Feeling the pain radiate out of my foot and through the entire leg. The motor hit this foot. I can not walk on it. I can not feel anything but pain around it. I looked down to see my shoe. I could see the black sneaker soaked in blood. The parts of the shoe that are ripped revealed torn burnt flesh exposed to the bone.

Walking was not an option. Taking a deep breath I focused. What could I use to get to the house?

I screamed in frustration.

Crawling forward I panicked. Feeling my skin restricting me in ways it never has on land before. It felt like the times I went diving with my parents. The wetsuit caused me to feel trapped.

I paused. Looking down at my arms. They are not red. The wetsuit is red. I am not burned, I am wearing a dry used wetsuit! I struggled pulling on the zipper. Ripping it off my body. Pulling out some of the rock protruding from my flesh. The areas that they came out splashed out with blood. I still had a huge piece sticking out of my torso and my good legs shin. My skin underneath did not feel any better but I could move now. I tore the wetsuit at my injured foot. Not wanting to expose more of the injury to the elements.

My underwear allowed me to have a better range of motion then the wetsuit did. I grasped each blade of grass with my hands pulling me forward. With my good foot I kicked at the dirt. Face planting after each push of my foot. Not able to focus on slowing down and coordinating my movements only focused on moving forward.

I pushed forward again. My face caked with dirt from all the miss coordinated impacts. I could taste grass in my mouth.

I reached it. The hill. I was so close to the house now. All I needed to do was roll down this hill.

I angled my body to log roll down the hill. I closed my eyes. Not wanting to become more disorientated then I already am. I rolled.

I could feel both stones impaled in my flesh the entire roll down. Until the one in my shin got caught. It was violently pulled out. I screamed. Feeling every inch as it was freed from my body. The hole in my shin quickly filled with dirt and grass.

Reaching the base of the hill I felt the desire to never move again. Curling into a ball. I needed this. I needed to comfort myself. Cold sweat washed over my body. Shivers raked my spine and everything became cold.

'Move'

I closed my eyes. This was not always a painful spot on the island. I used to have lunch at the base of the hill all the time. It was in view of the house and Mom would bring it out to me.

In view of the house. I opened my eyes looking to see the house. My goal was 100 meters away. A cake walk for most people.

I rolled allowing myself to feel the pain of the movement. Using it as motivation.

'Keep Going'

I fumbled towards the house. Ignoring the pain. Ignoring the impaied rock. Ignoring the river blocking my path.

The river.

The river that was full of salt water. The river I had asked Dad to make for me when I appeared like a human of six years old. So that I could practice jumping over the river. Each year I would demand for him to widen it just a bit so I could still practice jumping farther and farther. I hated young me right now.

Taking a deep breath I flopped into the river. Instandly screaming out all my air as the salt water washed away all the blood and dirt. Entering all the cuts and scrapes. I could feel a whirlpool sucking into my shin. Sucking out everything loose.

I kicked with my good foot off the side of the river. I could glide to the other side.

My bad foot hit the water. A blinding white pain overtook my body. I could not scream. The pain was too much for that. I felt the need to die. For only death would quiet this pain.

'Keep swimming'

I kicked my feet trying and failing to ignore the pain. I could feel bits of something coming off my bad foot. I did not pause to debate what was. The thoughts of it are too horrible.

My hand felt the muddy riverbank. I dug in. Pulling myself closer to the edge. Pulling myself up the muddy bank. Rolling onto the bank. Taking a deep breath I allowed myself to scream louder than I have before.

I could see the front door from my spot on the ground. I rolled pulling myself towards the door.

Laying on my doorstep I tried to reach the handle. I can not. It is too far off the ground. My hand can not reach it. I rolled onto my butt. Hoisting myself onto my good foot. Feeling unbalanced due to the hole in my shin. I turned the handle and opened the door.

I hopped to the fridge. Praying we had food. Praying that emergency blood is still in. Crying out when my bad foot made contact with the cabinet island. I pulled myself up onto the island. Remembering the last time I sat up here. I would do anything to return to that moment.

I yanked open the fridge. Bending over the impaled stone in my torso. Grabbing the first thing I saw.

Blood.

Authors Note: Please Review. Let me know what you think.