Page 42 of Citrine

Or maybe I'm completely deluding myself and I really am so desperate to talk to someone I'd welcome a psychopath's company.

Before I can think more about it, I yell out. "Hey! Are you there?"

I realize I don't know his name. I can't be blamed for that.

Most people don't ask monsters for their names and horror movies don't count. When my voice echoes out, it isn't met with a response.

That's bull. I know he's watching me and purposefully ignoring me. He only comes out of his own volition.

"Hey! At least tell me your name."

Ignored again.

The bugs and wind are the only ones who respond to my calls, a cacophony rising in the grassland again. I look up at the trees and one look at the hanging vines gives me an idea. I reach for the lower hanging vine, wrap it around my splint and pretend to pull, screaming at the top of my lungs.

I hear him long before I see him. Before I can take a breath for another scream, his tentacles wrap around me, his stormy eyes bearing down on me.

"Why would you hurt yourself again?" he berates, pulling my arm back down. "I mended it. Stop!"

Even though it hurts, I smile at him, pleased that I got him here. I feel a familiar heat in my lower body as his tentacles wrap and caress my body, but I firmly ignore it, the craving for communication trumping my carnal desire.

And, also, ick.

"Can you tell me your name?"

He pauses and his eyes look like they are trying to bore a hole into my head. He speaks, making a whale sound that roughly translates to killer.

Hell no. There's no way I'm calling this brutish alienkiller. He needs to soften some edges if he wants to make any damn friends.

What sort of cliché and egoistic name is that? It's way too arrogant.

"I'll call you Wroahk."

It's a shortened form of the sounds he made.

He doesn't look very pleased. "I don't like it."

"Too bad. My name is Eliyana."

He tries to pronounce it, but it comes out mangled and disorderly. I don't like it either.

"Just call me Eli," I say firmly.

He gives me what I assume is a deadpan look and just says no. There's really nothing else I can do about it. I can't threaten a tentacle monster that crushes alligators as easily as he breathes.

So, I decide to pivot.

"Do you know where we are? Have you seen others like us?"

"I do not know where we are, only that this place is dangerous. There are no others like us, but there are more like the ones who took me. If you move out of here to find any, you will not make it very far."

His blunt tone sends shivers down my spine. I can tell he's not lying. I know we're not on Earth, but the possibility of rescue just became very, very slim. I try to change the subject again, but my voice comes out very small.

"W-What do you do? For a career, I mean."

It's a dumb question so he looks at me weirdly. He has the namekiller, so it should be obvious. However, the concept of careers really doesn't translate well, and he's left looking to me for an explanation.

At this point, I don't care anymore if he understands me. I just want to talk to someone. So… careers.

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