Page 38 of Citrine

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 wordmeatdoesn'ttranslate 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.

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