The island was reserved for the worst criminals on the continent. Everyone knew that once you were sent to the island, it was the last time you were seen by the rest of the world. Its exact location was a secret to everyone but the transporters. Of course some people thought they knew where it was, but the truth was that criminals could have been boated to the middle of the ocean and left to drown and the world would never know of it. For the good people, the island could have just been an idea.
I was one of those people who doubted its existence. But I had always been a conspiracy theorist, wanting to believe in what wasn't because what was didn't seem plausible. Or maybe I was just never satisfied with the way the world worked. You are probably wondering if that's the reason I did it. But you're wrong. So were they.
The shackles around my wrists weigh several pounds and rub against my skin in such a way that leaves them raw and bleeding. My time in prison had not been kind to my body. Every joint ached, my ribs were visible against my pale skin and my short-cropped hair lies in pieces over my eyes.
The transporters haven't bothered blindfolding me to keep the location safe. Since I will never leave the island, it doesn't matter whether I know where it is or not. There is no danger of me telling anyone but the whispers of the wind. Of course I have prepared myself for them to stop suddenly and throw me from the boat, leaving me to drown and be eaten by sea monsters. I awaited my death with the salty air biting at my open wounds.
The simple shift covering my body whipped around in the wind, not leaving much to the imagination of what was underneath. But it didn't bother me anymore, I was going to die.
I closed my eyes against the harsh glare of the sun on the water. I stayed that way, sitting stone still and ready for the crushing waves of the ocean until a rough hand pulled on my arm. The boat had stopped, and was bobbing haphazardly through the water.
"Time to get off," the man grunted. He twisted me around and then did something I wasn't expecting.
I looked down in confusion as he took off the shackles. He let them drop to the ground. My mind stalled, unable to form words for a few moments. "What are you doing?" I asked.
His hand came down hard across my face. The blow made me stumble backwards and the stinging pain spread from my cheek to my jaw. He advanced towards me. "That was for speaking without permission." His hand yanked me towards the edge of the boat. Spit flew across my neck as he shouted into my ear. "Now swim!"
Before I could ask him why, I was in the water. It was cold and started to drag me down. Terror and water flooded my insides. It was a battle to get back to the surface. By the time my head was once again above the water, the transporter ship seemed miles away. Coughing up water that left the taste of salt and fish in my mouth and throat, I began to turn away from the ship.
What I saw on the horizon made me believe. There was an island. I had been wrong all that time.
Instinctively, I began to swim towards it. Halfway there, feeling the burning in my limbs, a thought occurred to me. Was that a place I really wanted to be? All the hardened criminals from decades gone by were probably waiting for me somewhere behind the brush. Perhaps I should let myself drown. But then, that could be what most people thought when they jumped from the boat. Maybe that was the trick to it all: no one actually made it to the island because what waited there could be a fate worse than drowning.
There wasn't time to debate, I had to make a decision. I was close enough to the island to make out the shoreline and the funny little pink plants that dotted its entirety. As I scanned the horizon, I noticed a small campfire in the distance. Little plumes of smoke rose from the flames and I was slightly disappointed that my earlier theory about no one living on the island was incorrect. It had felt like my only chance. Several figures emerged from the brush and approached the fire. But one figure, who was taller and larger than the rest, walked down to where the sand met the water. He put his had across his brow to shield his eyes from the glaring sun and started to look at the water. My heart dropped as his eyes seemed to linger on my bobbing head.
Suddenly, I was underneath the water, but not of my own will. Something was dragging me deeper by my feet. I reached towards the surface and thrashed out in panic. If I was going to drown that day, it was going to be at my time of choosing, damn it. My eyes opened against the stinging salt water to try and get a look at my captor. But the water was not clear, instead it was dark beneath my feet. Yet, through all the confusion and terror, I could have sworn it felt like fingers wrapped around my ankles.
Kicking frantically, I tried to free myself before the small amount of air in my lungs was used up. A trail of bubbles and disturbed water were all that was left to show I had once been at the surface. The light from the top of the water became dim and the water colder. A burning sensation began in my lungs and started to travel up my throat. My instincts were telling me to open my mouth, my mind was telling me the opposite. If it was, in fact, a person dragging me down, they couldn't hold their breath much longer either. They would have to let me go. Soon.
Just as the water around me started to flicker in and out of my vision, I felt an odd sensation. A hand was around my throat, and fingers were being stuck in my mouth. They tried to force my mouth open, but I knew I shouldn't. I didn't want to swallow the ocean.
A voice, undeterred by water, shouted at me. "Breathe, you stubborn girl!"
I tried to focus, but the lack of oxygen made everything difficult and fuzzy. What I couldn't understand was why I could hear him. If we were underwater, how was he speaking to me?
I heard a sigh of frustration and then felt something I had never expected to feel ever again.
Lips.
Lips being pressed against my own, separating my clamped jaws and forcing air down my throat. A strong hand was holding the back of my head, just above my neck, in place so that I couldn't pull free. When my vision came back into focus, I was able to see just what was going on.
I gasped and pushed away from the man who had been...kissing me.
Immediately, I was submerged beneath the cold waters once again. A hand grasped my wrist and pulled me up until my chin was just skimming the surface. It was dark, but not pitch black. In a glance, I could tell we were in what looked to be an underwater cave, with just a foot or two of space of air between the ceiling and water. A man I had never seen before floated in front of me, his dark wet hair plastered to his face and neck.
My heart pounded inside my chest, and I was sure it would burst through in a truly horrific fashion at any moment.
"Your timing," he paused to catch his breath, "is impeccable."
His finger pressed against this lips to indicate that I should be quiet. That was when the coldness of the water really hit me. My muscles started to tremble, and my teeth chattered uncontrollably. The shift I was wearing was practically floating around my hips, and I was glad for the darkness of the water below.
The man listened to something I couldn't hear for just another moment, and then motioned for me to follow him. I hesitated, unsure of where I was or how much I should trust him. Voices were screaming inside my head that I should trust no man on this island, they were all thieves and murders and maybe worse.
He disappeared beneath the water, going further into the cave. I waited just another moment, completely blind about when I would surface again, or if I ever would. But there weren't many other options. Taking a deep breath, I braced for the cold water to engulf me. I swam forward through the depths, hoping I wouldn't become stuck and drown. When my lungs started to burn again and I thought I had been tricked into death, I saw a light streaming down through the water. Wanting to scream with joy, I had to force my mouth to stay closed as I kicked and dug through the water to get to the surface. It was a small hole in the rock, perfectly round and just wide enough for my shoulders slip through.
After being in the dark water for so long, the sun's light was harsh on my eyes. I blinked furiously, waiting for them to adjust. Pulling myself up though the hole and onto the rock, I had to adjust my shift to cover my body, even if it was sticking to every curve and crevice like a second skin.
The man from the caves was sitting on the other side of the hole, staring at me intensely. But he wasn't looking at my body, rather, my face.
Feeling self-conscious, I wrapped my arms around myself. "Who are you?"
He stood, water streaming down his bare torso, and dripping from his flood-length trousers. "Nobody good."
I watched as he shook out his hair, sending droplets of water in every direction. They caught the dying sunlight, creating a momentary rainbow. After running his long fingers through his hair a few times, he turned and walked towards the edge of an overgrown forest.
I remained seated, casting wary glances between his departing figure and the ocean. I could no longer see the transport ship that had brought me here. It suddenly occurred to me that I was no where near the pink plant-dotted beach I had seen before. I was in an area of sharp cliffs and small lagoons.
I jumped to my feet, calling after the man who had brought me here. "Where am I? Where did the beach go?"
He stopped mid-stride and turned his head. "You're on the Innocent Cliffs. The beach is a few miles to the west, but you don't belong there."
Jogging to where he was, I winced when I my feet were cut on some jagged rocks. "Why don't I belong there, how is it any different from here?"
"That's Blood Beach," his shoulders tensed," you aren't a murderer are you?"
I faced his back, calculating my response, but he cut me off before I could form a coherent sentence.
"They sit down there on the beach waiting for new blood. But we knew you couldn't be one of them. What are you here for anyways?"
It suddenly made sense. The criminals had segregated themselves onto different parts of the island, corresponding with their class of crime. Obviously, I had been labeled as a lower class criminal for some reason.
I started my time at the island with a lie. One giant lie. "I am innocent of all charges. I would have never done what they said I did."
A smile spread across his face as he turned back to the forest. "Welcome to the club."
But there was something I needed to know. "How did you know I was one of you?"
A low chuckle escaped his throat. "You hesitated. The real psychos always go straight for the beach, because they would rather survive to kill another day."
I nodded. "So what are you here for?"
He ducked into the brush. "Nothing good."
He moved so quickly, I couldn't imagine how long he had been here. I tried to keep up, but found it difficult without much meat on my bones.
I could never tell them the truth of what I had done. The entire world knew my crime, even if they didn't understand my motive. The man guiding me through the forest was right, I didn't belong with the psychos and murderers.
But I didn't belong with the wrongly convicted either.
No.
I belonged with the justified.
I want more!
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