Page 37 of Citrine

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.

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