Chapter Four
For the first two days I'd had hope that someone would come along and find me and then if the poison didn't kill me then I could at least not starve to death or die of thirst.
That delusional thinking was gone by the third day.
I'd picked this specific spot because of how infrequently people came through.
Now that wish for solitude was going to mean the death of me.
I dozed off again under the heat of the small amount of sun that was peeking through the clouds today.
I wasn't quite at the point where I welcome death, but an unending sleep didn't sound like a bad idea.
When I woke again it was the middle of the night, but not early enough for the moon to be visible to me this far west.
An itch on my arm came then. One of the many small tortures I'd somewhat grown used to over the past five days.
I closed my eyes and pretended like I was scratching it in my mind, hoping to trick my body.
It worked, thankfully.
As I opened my eyes again I saw my right arm drop back onto the gritty sand.
It had actually moved.