Page 45 of Hate Wrecked

USE MY BODY

ROWAN

The sun is beginningto rise, and light is slowly creeping over everything when I see it: the cat. It’s standing by the tree line, near the water, as I open the tent door. I glance back at Riley, who’s sleeping. I’m going to let her sleep in—she needs it. She deserves all the good things.

I crawl out of the tent on my hands and knees, slowly coming to a crouch. “Hey there, little guy,” I coo, though the cat isn't little. He’s Maine Coon size. His eyes are wild, his fur sticking up in odd places. That’s no house cat.

I make myself as small and unthreatening as possible as I get to my feet. The cat twitches as if it’s about to bolt, but it holds its gaze on me.

I walk to it slowly, palms out like I have something, though I can offer the cat nothing. Not until we catch some fish.

When I’m within fifteen feet, the cat darts off, but not due to my proximity; behind me, I hear rustling. I turn around to see Riley coming out of the tent, her eyes squinted. She yawns and then jerks her head, seeing the orange fluff of fur running away.

“Oh fuck, did I scare him off?”

“I think he would have run away anyway,” I say.

Riley strides over to me, her hair wild. “You almost got to him. Maybe he isn’t that wild.”

“I don’t know. His stare looks a little likeget the fuck away from me, man,I will claw you to death.”

Riley laughs, stretching. My shirt stretches across her chest, and I can tell she isn’t wearing a bra. The cool morning air makes her body react in a way that makes me want to warm her.

I brush the thought away, walking to the fire that simmers by our tent.

“Want some breakfast?” I ask, crawling back into the tent.

“Yeah. I’m starving,” Riley replies, walking toward the glowing embers. She sits down, pulling a hair tie from her wrist, gathering her dark, wild locks. I can’t help but watch her while she’s taciturn, before the avalanche of words. She volleys between both. The shock of what we had to do—an unthinkable thing, burying a man in the ground all on our own—and our reality. I know it weighs heavy. It’s in us, and I’m not sure where it goes within her—how deep.

The remnants of Gerald’s life linger around us. He lived alone on this island for eight years. I envy him in some ways. What would it be like to live here for years, to escape reality and society, to be wild?

I’ve read the articles about his time here. I’ve read everything about this place: the disappearances, the ghost ships, and the vessels that never returned. It was once theorized that this island was like the Bermuda Triangle.

Myths and legends can often be more alive than reality.

I blink, pushing everything away, focusing on Riley again. I hand her a breakfast bar and then sit, listening to the waves. We have another big day ahead of us. But first, we need to find better shelter. Perhaps in the so-called Hilton.

It’s ramshackle, but it’ll be good enough for us since Riley doesn’t want to live in Gerald’s old quarters.

Stay.Not live.Stay.

Riley keeps her eyes on the tree line as we eat. I watch the goosebumps on her arms and how her mouth moves. All glances, all moments I hope she doesn’t see. I notice that she pulled something out of the tent and set it next to her. Riley has her mother’s book out but doesn’t open it. I don’t say anything, afraid to scare her off. I just watch her silently, the warmth of the morning waking me from the softness of sleep. The light of dawn paints Riley in romantic hues.

There is something primal in this situation we are in—two humans alone in the world. There is a loneliness in me that can only be filled by her. I’ve tried. I’ve failed. Then I walled myself in. I haven’t had sex in...years.

I’ve been busy, dedicated to my work, to honing my body into a skilled machine.

And being near her makes me want to use my body in another way.

I shake the thought away as I eat the last bit of my breakfast.

Before us is a ramp leading into the ocean, into the west lagoon. Today, we will test the waters here to see if it’s the best place to fish or if we need to move to another part of Falcon Island.

I go over the plan in my head before securing our tent. Finally, we change into clothes suited for exploration and travel.

Riley has on a bikini top and cut-off shorts. I change into shorts and a white T-shirt. I need to protect myself—I’ve always had fair skin. I’m going to burn out here if the sunscreen runs out. Riley has a tan, but we both apply sunscreen generously.

Though we just ate, I’m starving. The breakfast bar didn’t fill me up, and we need to find an alternative to our stored supplies. There are coconut trees on the island, and my mind whirls as we walk, wondering how to harvest them. Unfortunately, the ones on the ground are likely starting to rot.

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