Citrine (Deliverance #3)

18. Eli

18

Eli

Gathering the twigs, vines, and sticks I needed was the easy part. My heart fills with dread at the thought of readjusting my arm by myself. I sigh, looking at the crooked arm through blurry eyes, wondering exactly how I got here. I have never had the opportunity to reset a bone, neither did I think I would have to.

The most exciting thing that happened in the grocery store I worked in was somebody getting buried in cartons of chips after knocking over the supply boxes. Then, I was glad it wasn't me that made such a huge mistake. Or that time I spilled cleaning fluid on a carpet in my night job.

Not exactly worth this sort of karma. Oh, wait. I guess I did fucking shoot somebody, even if he deserved it.

The thrill of standing up for myself weaves together with saying fuck and it makes me feel… powerful.

Huh.

I know I'm spiraling to distract myself from the pain, but I let myself keep at it. It's excruciating and my heart is pounding in my ears to let me know just how close I am to passing out.

Every move feels like I'm being stabbed with a thousand needles. Falling from a bike or getting hit by my stepfather just doesn't compare to this kind of pain. What he broke there were at least doctors to fix when I 'fell down the stairs.'

My body screams at me to give up, but I know I haven't gotten the bone in place, so I'll have to keep pulling until I do. Just the thought of it is enough to send shivers down my spine.

The wind blowing through the trees doesn't help to regulate my body's temperature but the feeling of being watched still lingers, leaving my nerves frigid.

Thanks to my blurred vision, it's going to take a lot more than blind faith and instincts to help me set my bone back. I seriously need help. If I keep pulling, the sheer pain is going to knock me out.

My efforts are still not enough.

There's no one I can ask for help. As far as I can tell, I'm the only human here, though I can't risk saying that out loud because of how real it'll feel. I can't stand being the only human stranded on an alien planet.

Who will I talk to so I can keep the nightmares at bay?

There is someone else, my mind points out, but I can't fathom asking him for help.

I'm barely even conscious and I'm injured. An easy meal. I'm not going to be eaten alive in my most vulnerable and pathetic state. Even in the best-case scenario that he doesn't eviscerate me, he won't help me.

He already said he didn't intend to save me, unless it's for an afternoon snack.

After another failed attempt I know I can't do it. I don't know what I'm doing. My vision is blurred, fear is pumping through me, my teeth are chattering with cold.

There's nothing in my stomach, but it still feels like I'm going to throw up.

I breathe shakily, urging myself to get it together when I feel something wet and rubbery wrapping around me and pushing me forward so there is slack in the line I'm still stubbornly pulling against, a ragged, animal scream tearing at my throat.

Tears sting my eyelashes, blurring my vision further, and my body flinches with even the slightest touch on my injured arm. The only thing keeping me going is adrenaline and sheer will.

"Why are you harming yourself?" I hear him ask in a deeper tone than before, the echoes of his song reverberating through me now that he has me pulled up against him.

I doubt my own ears, wondering if the hallucinations have started.

There's no way it's him, especially not asking that question. Is this really the end of my pathetic life? No, it can't be. I can't go like this. I can't…

"Respond, female!" His voice resounds in my ears again, quicker.

Angrier.

"I will not allow you to hurt yourself!" he screams at me in whale clicks, just barely penetrating my pain induced haze.

My mind finally recognizes that he's here in the flesh. I tear my eyes open and see him looming over me, an arm gripping me tight up against him, tentacles on my broken arm. I gasp, feeling ripples of pain go down my arm.

Does he want to tear off my arm as a snack? What does he want and why the hell is he yelling so much? I'm in so much pain, and he's just being an asshole.

The adrenaline blinds me, and I do something I would never have done before, considering the massive headache I have and the fact that he towers over me easily.

"Shut up!" I yell, nothing like my usual self.

Surprisingly, it works, and I take a few panting moments to gather my shattered mind.

When I feel more in control, I speak again. "Stop screaming at me. My arm hurts and I need to shift the bone back or it won't heal properly or worse, I die from an embolism."

He contemplates on my words. "Will it hurt more or less if you do this?"

"It'll hurt a lot now, but it'll heal later and hurt less. I'll be able to move it properly for the rest of my life if I shift it into alignment, but it won't work right if I don't. This is necessary."

"Let me see your other grasper."

I assume he means arm. I raise it, shivering when his smooth, two-finger hand moves over my arm, pressing it in a few places. He looks deep in thought, although it's probably my imagination.

He reaches for my other arm, inspecting it and pressing it like he did to my other arm. I react immediately, muffling my scream by closing my mouth and snatching my arm away.

This asshole, what the hell is he doing?! It was bad enough when he held it the last time, but pressing on it is a different thing.

"What the hell did you do that for?" I yell at him, trying to hold my injured arm away from him.

I'm in pain and he's stronger than me. It's impossible to stop him, though I do try to wriggle away. His tentacles wrap around me, trapping me. It's not like I can move much, but his hold is rough, making my pain worse.

He looks at me for a second, holds my arm, and twists it.

The scream that bursts from my throat sends knives of raw pain along it, blending with the agony in my arm. Blackness takes over my vision.

I wake to him shaking me. The tears come right after, gushing down my cheeks like a waterfall. I heave, my vision waning. I look down at my arm blearily. It was cruel and fast, but efficient. My arm is back to its original position.

He holds it in place, waiting on me. "What do I do next?"

Through heavy, sparse breaths, I gesture to the splint. "Tie that on the arm."

He does as he's told, using a combination of his hands and tentacles, not gentle in the slightest, though thankfully I don't have to teach him how to tie a knot. Not completely primitive, it looks like.

Still a stupid ass, though , I grumble to myself.

Now that my arm's back in position, it hurts less, but it's only a matter of degrees. He uses his webbed hands and the tip of his tentacles to fix the splint in place, tightening it roughly.

I fight the urge to curse at him, lest he change his mind on helping me. Once the splint is in place, my body goes slack with relief. I feel the wet, leathery feeling leave my arm as he retracts his touch.

I'm amazed that he's capable of listening to instructions. Of something more than threats and violence.

He helped me freely. I don't know how much he cares, but I know he doesn't want me to hurt myself.

Why would he care if I'm just a walking meal? I don't know what that means just yet, but I'll play it safe. As long as I'm not an afternoon snack, I'm fine.

He lets me go, ensuring I have my feet under me before releasing the hold he has on my waist. I sway, but I don't fall.

In the tense atmosphere, my stomach growls to break the silence, my hunger the main source of my dizziness now. It makes him frown, like he's offended by the sound.

I haven't eaten since I woke up in this hell and the hunger is becoming more apparent with every passing second.

It's really a miracle I haven't passed out yet.

Just as I thought that, my body staggers. He catches me before I fall to the ground, his face contorting into something that is not quite anger.

"Even your insignificant weight is too much?" he taunts.

"I haven't eaten."

"No self-respecting person will allow others to hunt for them."

"No need. I don't eat food."

He looks at me, confusion now clouding his eyes. I am getting better at reading his expressions. The word meat doesn't translate into his language because what I meant to say was, I don't eat meat. I'm a vegetarian.

"Meat," I say in my language, although my voice sounds strange.

I try again in his language. "Food. ? Qué rabia ! Food! That's not the word I'm trying to say. What I'm trying to say is I don't eat the flesh of living creatures."

"That's the only thing that is food."

"Well, I eat plants," I hiss out in an annoyed voice. "I just don't know which ones are safe to eat."

"You will have to learn about that on your own. I'm leaving."

I fight the urge to yell at his back. He helped me, but is so damn insulting I want to strangle him with his own fucking tentacles.

He doesn't turn around like I fear, soon disappearing from my view.

I heave a sigh of relief and look at my arm. Despite his gruffness, I'm thankful for what he did. It is already starting to hurt less. Still, I prefer him as far away as possible. Even better if he's not on the island. He's the most dangerous thing here.

I don't care if he leaves me alone. I don't. Conversation where I am the butt of every barb isn't worth it.

I let out a huff of breath. I know myself. If he comes around, I will still talk to him. Dammit.

I recall the memory of him breaking the spine of the alligator. If I'm left alone with those creatures, I will not survive. That chilling thought is a lovely way to begin my day.

I stroke my now-fixed arm, looking around. I'm still starving, yes, but I can finally get a chance to observe my surroundings now that I'm not wallowing in pain.

As I take slow, steadying breaths, the ache in my arm reduces to a dull throbbing and in a while, I can finally move it enough to move in search of food.