Filed To Story: The Saltwater Curse Book PDF Free
Hunger pains stab at my stomach. My throat is raw from crying, the heat, dehydration, and many mouthfuls of saltwater. My skin feels like it’s peeling off my body from the hours I’ve spent in the sun, staring into the distance, willing someone to see me. I think the tattoo on my back has blistered.
I’ve circled what I could of the island, coming face-to-face with a steep rock wall or the edge of a cliff every time I think I’ve finally found a way back to civilization.
But no one is coming.
The only form of escape I could find was a dinghy with a rusted, busted engine. There wasn’t a single salvageable part.
I searched the trees as I ran around the island, hoping to find any fruit or vegetable I could eat or drink, but nothing. No freshwater stream. No coconuts I could attempt to pick. No way to make a fire because I’m far from being a Girl Scout.
A person can last three days without water. I’d venture I’d die in less, based on how the past twenty-four hours have played out, not to mention the whole chronic fatigue thing I’ve been sporting for the last six months.
The last thing I ate was a single lumpia yesterday afternoon, followed by two cocktails later that night. By my calculation, I have until tomorrow evening to get out of here before I waste away.
At one point, I considered jumping into the sea and swimming until I reach land, drown, or get eaten by whatever fucked-up thing is out there, but I figured Ordus would catch me before I could make it far.
I haven’t seen him, but I know he’s out there somewhere, sulking, watching, doing mental gymnastics to come to some justification that keeping me—his supposed mate
—out here is fine.
He’d rather let me die on this island than take me back.
Just because a monster has a gentle touch doesn’t mean he isn’t a monster.
I’ll do well to remember that.
The water splashes against my feet, sand sticking to my grimy, sweat-stained skin. The fabric of my dress feels like matted cardboard. I’ve turned into a slab of meat for the nearby mosquitoes to feast on. I’d kill for many things right now. A shower is near the top of that list.
I need to find the silver lining in this, right? That’s what Dad always did. Oh, I got seven out of ten on my spelling test? At least I passed and learned from my mistakes. Burned dinner? Once you shave off the char, the inside is edible.
He was an optimist, a yes-man through and through. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’d say I was enough of a pessimist for the both of us. Well, he only said that once I started seeing Tommy.
So, silver lining? The Gallaghers can’t reach this island.
I squeeze my eyes shut against my plummeting blood pressure and sugar levels that send my body on a toxic tailspin where I want to discard the nonexistent contents of my stomach.
My body sways with the gentle breeze, eyelids drifting open and closed.
The sea isn’t giving me any peace like it usually would, but still, if there were ever a place for me to die, it would be here, overlooking the ocean as the water cools me down. Because when all is said and done, my corpse will be mine alone. I’m trapped on this island where no one will ever find me here. The Gallaghers can’t turn me into a warning if they never find my body.
With that thought, I weakly dart my eyes to the trees in case one of the Gallaghers magically teleported here. For a second, I see a glimmer of Tommy’s ghost, but I know he isn’t there. It’s been…nice not looking over my shoulder every minute I’ve been outdoors, waiting for the Gallaghers to be around the corner.
My fear of them isn’t at the forefront of my mind. Paranoia isn’t choking me. Natural survival is the only thing I’m thinking of. That, and Ordus, who’s left me to my own devices, watching me slowly wither away.
Movement sounds behind me. I don’t bother turning. I know who it’ll be. I have no desire to give him more attention than he deserves.
I hate that I flinch when he raises his arm, that I instinctively tuck my chin up against my collarbone to brace for a strike that never comes. I never used to be like this. I was a stranger to hurt until pain became all I knew.
What I hate even more is watching Ordus’ fingers curl into fists, how my heart hammers in my chest at the memory of what knuckles feel like against soft tissue.
Maybe somewhere deep down, there’s a part of me that believes he’d never raise a hand against me, but that’s what I believed about Tommy. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and I paid for it with my life and a screwed-up arm.
Ordus lowers himself to the ground and very intentionally hunches to seem less imposing. The silence stretches for long minutes as I watch the water draw his tentacles in and out of the shore.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to open my mouth and demand the same thing I’ve been demanding since I got here, but he beats me to it. The monster clears his throat, offering me his hand. “Come, female.”
Of all the things to be mad about, that sets me off. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe I just want to argue to feel something other than hopelessness.
“Don’t fucking call me that,” I snap, my voice a garbled rasp of shards of glass that tear through the fibers of my throat.
“Female?” Ordus questions, bewildered.
“Woman,” I correct.
It’s a stupid argument, a waste of my precious energy when I should be conserving whatever moisture is left in my mouth and throat. But I don’t want him to have a moment of peace. I want him to hate me as much as I hate him for putting me through this.
My eyes heat once more. Exhaustion. Frustration. Despair. It hits me, spilling down my salt-burnt cheeks into my lips.
“Or Cindi.” I almost say Kristy, because I might as well let someone else know my real name, since I’m going to die anyway. But Kristy is already dead—even if her ghost is insistent on haunting my every waking moment.
I ignore his outstretched hand and jump to my feet, hating that he towers over me either way.
“Do not lessen my person to the organ between my legs,” I yell. That’s what Tommy did. His family. Every other person I came across during the three years I was with him. I was nothing more than a thing to hang off his arm, a toy for him to throw around when no one was looking.
If I’m going to die, I want to do it without feeling less than human, even if the kraken sees me as nothing more than an object of fate.
“I’m a person. A human being with feelings. Emotions. Needs.” I don’t know why I bother. He’s not going to change his tune. I doubt he’s capable of it. He’s a monster through and through. Being humanoid doesn’t give him humanity. “And you’re a monster,” I seethe.
He says nothing, staring at me with eyes I can’t read. Muscles bunched. Lips twitching. Arms stiff.
I’m torn between cowering away and doubling down. Tommy would have hit me before a sound could come out.
I hate Ordus, but not in the same way I hated Tommy. I hated my husband with a force that moved mountains and raised hell to my feet.
I hate Ordus because he looks like Tommy in certain lights. He’s giving me the same clouded look Tommy used to give me before he twists his words until they’re sharp enough to puncture an artery.
Except Ordus doesn’t speak. He’s looking at me like he wants me to say more, to lay everything out at our feet in the hopes he can pick at the words to see them from a different angle and figure out how it works out of plain curiosity.
“You’re killing me,” I croak, tears stinging my burnt cheeks, vocal cords like sandpaper.
A look of pure torture crosses his eyes. Then, a flash of guilt, followed by unbridled desperation. Every hair on my body stands on end, though not out of fear. I just… I don’t know how to react to him.
He doesn’t want me to die, but he won’t do what needs to be done to keep me alive. He doesn’t want to hurt me, but he’s letting me starve.
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