When I managed to pull myself back away from the water again, I felt my whole body go limp, and I lowered myself down on my side. I pulled my arms up and covered my face with my hands while I tried to figure out just how in the hell I managed to end up like this.
Left in a bar as a toddler. No parents to be found. No one interested in becoming my parents, either. No one wants to adopt a kid whose parents didn’t even want him. Different foster homes every couple of years until I started getting into trouble. Then it was group homes and eventually juvenile detention. Nice start to life. No wonder I was so fucked up.
“Please, talk to me, Daniel.”
I heard her voice again but didn’t want to yell at her any more. My throat felt like I had been yelling all day, and I probably had been. I took another deep breath and felt a sob come out of my chest. I didn’t realize I was crying. Fucking crying.
“They could have just left me in a fucking dumpster or something,” I heard myself sob. “Save the state a lot of cash.”
I heard her move a little closer to me, and I resisted the urge to lash out at her, at least for a few seconds. I didn’t want her anywhere near me. I didn’t want anyone anywhere near me. I sure as hell didn’t want anyone watching this happen to me or looking at me while I was crying.
I felt her hand on me again, tentatively stroking from my lower back up to my shoulder blades and then back down again. It was strangely comforting even though I didn’t want it. Her touch was so light, I could only barely feel it.
“Are you talking about your parents?”
“I don’t have any fucking parents!” I yelled, the sorrow I had been feeling immediately replaced by the most intense anger. I needed her to just stop talking and leave me alone. “How many times do I have to tell you to shut up and quit touching me, you stupid cunt?”
I could feel her stiffen, and she immediately withdrew her hand and backed away from me. It was about time.
My chest tightened, and I tried to push myself back up so I was sitting, but I slipped back down. It took three tries to sit up, and by then my chest hurt so bad I was fairly certain I was having a heart attack. I tried to get my breathing under control, but short panting breaths were all I could manage. My head got a little foggy as I hyperventilated which shot me into a panic.
I tried to stand up, which is a really bad idea on such a small raft on the ocean. It pitched wildly to the side, sending me flailing into the fabric wall before I fell on my face. I felt the stitches in my head rip open.
Fucking awesome.
Note sarcasm.
I pushed the flat of my palm against my head and then brought it away. Blood was clearly visible on my hand, and I could feel it start to trickle down the side of my face. I reached up to touch it and cringed as I ended up smearing it into the stubble on my face.
I growled incomprehensibly and slammed my fists into the floor of the raft on either side of me. The urge to hit something a hell of a lot harder was damn near overwhelming.
Note to self: next life raft gets equipped with a punching bag to go with the bottle of rum and carton of cigs.
Holy shit, I had forgotten about the smokes I had with me. I felt an immediate sense of relief as I pulled at the pouch containing the two I had left.
Getting the pouch open on my belt with my hands shaking was nearly impossible, but at least once I got the baggie out, I could just dump the smokes onto the floor of the raft. I grabbed the lighter and put the cigarette between my lips. The lighter had dried out enough that it sparked, but with my shaking hands, I couldn’t hold the damn thing on long enough to light it. I kept trying, and the edge of my thumb was getting raw from flicking the wheel over and over again while the lighter got hotter on the metal end. Eventually, I managed to burn my thumb and still didn’t have the cigarette lit.
I let out a long string of curses before my eyes met up with hers again.
“Get over here and light this fucking thing for me.”
Raine’s eyes narrowed, and she just looked at me for a moment as I held the cigarette and the lighter out to her, my hands making them vibrate in the air between us.
“Are you fucking deaf now, too?”
“No,” she said, her voice sounding relatively calm, all things considered. “I’ve never lit one before. I mean, I’m not sure how…”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I screamed. “Just fucking light it!”
I threw the lighter at her, which she managed to catch. I thought better of throwing the smoke because if it got wet or broke, I was going to seriously lose it. I put my shaking hand out again and held it there until she took it from me.
“Just do it,” I snarled again.
“Are you going to keep yelling at me?”
“Quit doing shit to piss me off,” I retorted.
“Not being a smoker pisses you off?”
“At the moment, yes. Now light the fucking cigarette.”
She held it between her fingers like a joint and flicked the lighter. She didn’t put it in her mouth or inhale, so of course it didn’t work.