Day Seventeen
With clammy, shaking palms, tiny hands grappled around the indurate smooth shell of a mollusk, plucking it inconsiderately from its former habitat within the salt water basin, enclosed and protected from the harsh lap of the ocean by large, abundant rocks. Along with the others she had collected, it went, damp and still into the beige rucksack dangling from a single strap upon a badly sunburned shoulder blade, clattering against those identical to it. She stayed as it clunked into the interior of the satchel, bare knees pressing into the wet dark sand and her index and middle finger pinching the bride of her nose; her other hand ran down the length of the tattoo she had gotten with Jade, from her ankle to the foremost of her foot, absently. Reasonably, stress hung about the small girl like a looming, evil raincloud one might see in Super Mario, and albeit she was not sick like her close companion, Cat could not deny that she had felt like throwing up.
Ever since Jade had fallen ill the night beforehand, the gang had been ripped from their casual, yet worn, conduction to panicking and back to work once again. Beck and the redhead had been the ones to volunteer and play Nanny into the Gothic girl's tent, at the same time, risking their own health to take care of her along the way – with, she might add, no knowledge of what sickness the taller girl had submitted too. Being mindful, she had asked the former earlier that morning if there was a chance that she was pregnant; the simple question in itself was a warrant to being slapped in the face and she knew that.
Fortunately, the actions of her peer were much less drastic.
Stress was evidently, not only caused by one thing and one thing alone. It was flanked by the pressure of Jade's sudden and harsh illness; she needed to take care of her (best) friend just as it had been vice versa when Cat had come down with walking-pneumonia two years ago, and the simple fact that she hadn't had a smoke in over seventeen days time. The petite girls body was suffering from withdrawal; hallucinations, cold sweats, paranoia and nausea – everything she had been able to, magnificently, hide from her companions. She had to keep it a secret for two, important reasons: firstly? No one knew that she had started smoking in the first place. Secondly? Because she didn't want any of the attention to be turned onto her, when she knew very well that Jade was the one who needed and craved their attention (maybe beside Tori's) most.
The medical kit the guys had found inside of the plane was nothing propitious, in the simple exception to Tylenol and Epinephrine injection in case of a severe allergic reaction emergency. Adrenaline, a translucent liquid contained in two clear bottles within the first-aid apparatus, and Antidepressant's, she figured, would not help Jade in the long run either (she had though, slipped a bottle of the antidepressants into her sweatshirt pocket the night before; just in case she would need it for her own self).
Cat discovered early on, that the thermometer was the only thing that had come in handy thus far; the only thing that the group had remotely known about what was going on, was the simple fact that Jade was running a tremendous fever of 103.4. Being a part time nurse in the children's hospital (she had taken good care of young kids the ages 2-7 with cancer and other diseases; they loved her, vice versa) and having simple common sense – though not so much – she frowned and pressed a wet rag to the other girls forehead sympathetically, feeling unnecessarily guilty for her friends suffering. This, whatever Jade had caught, was definitely not a good thing, and wasn't about to clear up.
"Hey Cat, how goes it?" Beck's sudden voice tore her hastily from her reverie, and she instantly jumped up and spun around on the heels of her converse sneakers to face him, plastering on a light-hearted smile.
"I'm okay! Thanks for asking!" She replied, shrugging her burning shoulders and twirling a piece of red velvet hair between her fingertips. It wasn't easy attempting to be cheerful anymore, her act was slowly spiraling out of control – she had clung onto her childhood all of her life, determined to keep that simple ribbon of innocence wrapped around a tiny finger until she couldn't anymore. And now, with all the traumatic experiences buzzing about her life, the pink fabric was unraveling; and Cat couldn't say that she liked it even if her life had depended on that one simple answer.
"Whatcha doin'?" He asked casually, turning on his own heels and beginning to walk back toward the camp alongside her with his hands stuffed into his jean short pockets like the usual.
"Tori wanted me to get some more clams, so I did!" She explained, a buoyant bounce to her step. "I feel a bit bad though, we're killing these innocent animals and they have no idea what's going on! Sometimes I wonder if we should just stick to fruit, like Jade does! Become vegans!"
"Don't forget that Andre and I are working hard on catching all these fish for us, you know." Beck chuckled. The two dwelled into a gentle, familiar silence until the 6 foot male spoke once again. "I actually uh, came over here to ask you something."
"Um, sure. What is it?" She furrowed her brows, malodorous voice bound with curiosity and chocolate brown eyes fleeting over to the tan male beside her, unable to possibly process what type of question he had to ask her.
"Jade and I were talking. You know, before she got sick…" He trailed off, clearing his throat calmly, "and we were talking about leaving. To go explore the island, see if there's any type of civilization out there. I think we're going to do it…once she gets better…And we were wondering if maybe you'd want to come with us."
As if her feet had a mind of their own, like the many nights before when she had lost her bag of necessary pills, she stopped, entrenched within the sand. On the bottom of her shoes must have been some sort of glue to make this even the slightest bit, remotely obtainable, because no matter how strenuously she had desired to move, she could not will herself to do so. His catechism was undoubtedly seeking for a positive answer, a simple four lettered word rooted at the very tip of her tongue that, though she pried to get it off, it remained frozen. A complete copy-cat (she would have giggled), of what her feet were doing at the same exact moment.
Instead, she made a slight, uncomprehending noise from the back of her throat in astonishment, unable to interpret exactly what he had meant.
Not once had Cat thought about leaving the comfort and safety of the campsite they had grown quite accustomed to, despite the waterhole incident twelve (or was it thirteen? She couldn't keep count) days beforehand. Leaving now, or whenever Jade had gotten better, was as if those leaving and in favor of walked straight up to those remaining at the shore and saying proudly, "hey, we're all going to abandon you now. Bye, see you never" and to be completely and utterly honest, she wasn't exactly comfortable with that. But, admittedly, at the same time she had felt a familiar pull at her heartstrings that gave her the passion of want, the considerable impatience for rescue to come when clearly, that wasn't going to happen. The wait, she realized just not long ago, was beginning to get to her as well. All she wanted, was to go back home again.
She chewed unconsciously upon a dry, bottom lip, wedging the soft skin between her teeth as the taller boy looked over his shoulder to glance at her, appearing confused as to why she had stopped walking. It was a lucid question, coming smoothly from his lips but slamming down upon her shoulders with the weight of the world, and she felt all too pressured to answer. If she had said no, would Jade and Beck hate her for it? Unlikely, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering.
"Um." She managed, round eyes wide and she riveted up at him. "I guess I'll have to sleep on that, he-he…Are you sure it's a good idea?"
"We'll see if it is when it happens. Think about it, alright?" He answered her nonchalantly, turning around upon his heels and stalking away.
She was left alone.
Four years ago, May 1st 2006.
Overshadowing the tiny office, smelling of a soft citrus and conjoined with a lobby, was laconism, despite the soft clutters of intonations coming from behind the albino, wooden slate. The only thing to disrupt it was the soft tapping of pen against paper and the gentle breathing of the two people occupied within the province – chocolate brown eyes bore emotionlessly into those of a sweet and caring emerald green that reminded her of grass, but mouths remained closed and words ceased to exist. If she was accurate, and perhaps had a watch in possession, she had been in here for at least a half an hour, just sitting, and not speaking or uttering a word to the kind woman behind the desk.
"Do you know why you are here, Caterina?" The lady, Dr. Grayson, asked her calmly as her pen landed with a soft thump upon the paper splayed out in front of her, tan hands folded together and fingers entwined.
"My mom says I have problems, and that I need to talk to you about them." Cat answered her monotonously, her own small fingers finding the strands of dark brown and absentmindedly twirling and fidgeting with it. "But I don't think I do, I'm just quiet all the time."
"Is there a reason as to why you're so silent, Caterina?" Grayson pressed on, picking up her abandoned pen once more and pressing the round, ball point to the yellow, lined paper, patiently waiting.
"Kind of…There's more than one, you know. There's a lot." She shrugged lightly, teeth gnawing away at the inside of her cheek profusely and her eyes flickering downward.
"Well, care to share them with me? I promise you everything you say here does not leave the walls of my office. Speak to me as if you were writing in a diary, take as much time as you please." Said the woman in her mid-thirties offered a gentle smile.
"I'm bullied a lot at school, because people think I'm weird." Thirteen year old (youngest in her entire class) Cat murmured promptly. "I have one friend, her name's Jade West – she's kind of like my protector. They call me a wimp and a big baby for crying whenever we talk about 9/11 in school sometimes too. But they don't understand."
"How do you feel when they call you that? Why do you cry?"
"Nothing."
"You feel nothing?"
"Mhm."
Dr. Grayson frowned and scribbled furiously into her notebook, hand flying so fast across the paper that Cat was slightly, just barely amazed at how quick someone could write. "Why do you think that is? Have you suffered a loss recently? Physical or emotional trauma that's making you feel so numb? If you can tell me, I can help you."
"I lost my daddy 5 years ago, on my seventh birthday." Cat explained slowly, her chest tightening to the point where she believed if it had anymore she would be incapable to talk, let alone breathe at all. "On September 11th."
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Caterina. But…" Dr. Grayson gave a frigid smile and ripped a sticky-note from its pad, erratically jotting down long words in fine, dark black print. "I think I have a way to help you, darling. You should give this prescription to your local pharmacist and they'll assist you straight away. You should be on these pills every day, from when you wake up, and continue that schedule until I say otherwise. These will help you, yes, but I would like it very much if you continued seeing me about your problems, that way, we can go through this process together, and naturally."
"What are Antidepressants?" She asked as she gathered her things slowly, knee caps sore and aching as she rose from her seat upon the uncomfortable couch she had been deemed to sit upon. Lines, pulsing red and indenting within her creamy white skin, stuck out greatly from their place upon her thighs.
"It appears that, from the little information you told me, you're suffering from PSTD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They'll help you become you again." Dr. Grayson offered a wary smile.
"And what about me being Bipolar and having ADHD? Is there really that many things wrong with me?" Cat bit her lip anxiously, wringing her hands absentmindedly as she stared at the older woman before her.
"These will help you, I promise."
This one didn't have much to it, but the plot line with Beck's question will gradually become bigger as chapters go on. Anyhow, as usual, I hope you liked it and please leave a review! They make me smile (: