Chapter Text
Awareness faded in like the waves that were crashing right next to my head, it happened slowly, second by se-
Wait, waves?
And... Seagulls.
Shooting up to look at my surroundings, I pried my eyes open and received the unfortunate gift of being immediately blinded by the sun. Slamming them back shut only gave me minor comfort. The headache was persistent. Taking a deep breath, I tried feeling the ground beneath me for some sort of answer; sand. Of course. The granules immediately got stuck beneath my fingernails, and I grimaced at the sensation. Why did it have to be sand? Now that I was paying attention, I could feel it working its way into my clothes, sticking to my back, and overall being a nuisance. I carefully opened my eyes to squint at my surroundings. It was a beach, unsurprisingly. It was beautiful. Though there were no signs of people that I would expect to see at this sort of place. No towels, no chatter, no boardwalk, or trash in sight. Weird.
How the hell did I get here? Shit, this is probably an abandoned island that I crashed into. What is this Yellowjackets? That's what that show’s about, right?
Focus, you’ve never even been on a plane before, so that couldn’t be it.
Carefully standing up, I looked over myself.
No signs of being mangled or horrifically disfigured, so that’s good I guess.
Come to think of it, what was I doing before this?
Look, I know it was a little slow of me to just be thinking this now, but in my defense, waking up in unknown places was a little new to me!
Think, think! Yesterday I was... Fishing? With my brother, I think. We got into an argument about politics. It wasn’t explosive, I just ended up going back home and crying. Shit, I hope he feels bad now that I’m lost or whatever. So. Home, crying, some friends called and I went to a park with them, and then... nothing. I hope they’re ok.
Fuck. No memory. Maybe I was drugged and kidnaped? But what for? It’s not like anyone I know has anything valuable, and what’s the point of kidnapping someone just to leave them on some island? Unless this was some sick trick to watch me struggle to survive. I looked around the surrounding area for any cameras, no luck. But that doesn’t really mean much. I decided to take a look around the island. There wasn’t anything better to do anyway. I figured I’d look around, see if I could find something resembling civilization, shelter or food.
---------------
Nothing! Fucking! Nothing!
I was being dramatic. It turns out the island was a pretty good place to be lost on. It was relatively small, about the size of four city blocks. I could navigate it pretty easily. There was a river that came from the ocean that led to a nice little pond. The trees growing on the island were taller than most I’d seen at home, and I ran into a couple critters skittering around in the branches. But, other than that, there was a reasonable amount to eat and drink.
Fuck, I’m going to die out here, aren’t I?! People might be looking for me but who the hell would think that I was on a deserted fucking island!? Shitshitshitshitsit-
I continued that way for a while, wearing a path in the dirt under my favorite tree on the island. It was a willow tree, growing next to a burbling stream with lots of fish.
Luckily, due to how I was raised, I knew the basics of surviving in the wilderness. Shelter, food, and clean water. Unfortunately, there was a bit of a mental barrier. Afterall, I wasn’t used to sleeping on dirt or fishing up my lunch. Feeling my breaths starting to come faster and faster, I attempted to calm myself, think clearly. It wasn’t much use. Plopping down on the ground, I shoved my head between my knees to stave off... everything.
This is too much, I don’t know how to do this, I’m going to fucking die.
The pressure in my head was unrelenting as I thought myself to tears. I couldn’t stop thinking.
No one is going to find me; I’m just going to be a dead body out here... no one will know where I went.
Maybe I should just make it easy. Lay down and not get back up. Try to avoid dying slowly and painfully.
But even then, it wouldn’t be quick...
At that point my breathing had crescendoed into gasps that were barely there. I could feel my ribcage rattling with each unsuccessful breath. Eventually black spots faded into my vision, and I was granted peace, if only for a moment.
--------------------
I woke up the next day feeling incredibly sore. Apparently, passing out on the ground isn’t great for your back. Who knew?
It took me a moment to remember the situation, but when I did, a groan immediately left me while I turned to face the sky. Maybe staring at the sun would blind me, then I wouldn’t have to look at this stupid island anymore.
No, you have to do something. Look on the bright side; this could finally be your chance to cure your phone addiction!
Snorting to myself at the thought, I carefully sat up and attempted to stretch without breaking something. It still hurt, but at least I felt a little more limber.
I should probably find somewhere more secure to stay than under a tree; no matter how pretty it is.
“Right, tree? You’re not going to give me much protection from the elements, are you?”
The tree did not respond; it just kept blowing softly in the wind. After squinting at it for a moment, as if it would hold some kind of answer, I turned to look for some caves I’d spotted the day before.
“Ok, you can do this, just start fires, catch fish, and sleep on the cold, hard, unforgiving ground. Can’t be that hard, can it?”
--------------------
Famous last words, because apparently it could be that hard. Finding a cave to set up camp was the easy part. The more challenging bit was ... everything else.
I’d known vaguely how to start a fire. Pile up dry wood, smash rocks together, cause friction, or use a lens of some sort to channel light. However, I’d apparently lost my glasses on the trip over, just then realizing that I couldn't see shit. So, option three was out. I didn’t exactly know what flint looked like, so there went that option.
Rubbing some sticks together it is, I guess
Yeah, it was a lot more difficult than you would think. For something that’s pretty much a one step process, it took me forever. I got callouses and splinters in my hands from spinning a damn stick, not to mention how sore my muscles got. But the worst bit was that if you stopped to rest, you’d have to start all over. So, I’d get going, start seeing smoke, then feel like my arms were about to fall off, try to rest for a second, and have to begin again. The first time I got a real flame, I bounced up shouting for joy, accidentally blowing it out in the process.
“No, nononono,” I whined “Why?”
That’s how my second night went, attempt after attempt finally gaining me a puny little fire that I sat huddled up next to, trying to not feel to sorry for myself.
--------------------
Now that I knew what to expect, and had some charcoal from the fire, it was a little easier to start them. However, my stomach wouldn’t stop making itself known and my throat felt like sandpaper. I’d been avoiding eating or drinking anything due to the very rational fear of contracting some sort of disease. I didn’t know if the water was safe to drink, it looked clear, but you never know, right? Besides that, I wasn’t exactly sure which berries and plants were edible. Also, even though I knew how to fish, I wasn’t exactly keen to start trying to rip out fish guts to find the edible bits.
I guess I have to start somewhere.
My face held a permanent grimace as I stared down at my reflection in the happy little stream. Trying to still my shaking hands, I carefully cupped them and scooped the water into my mouth. My aching throat and cracking lips took it greedily, and I started frantically drinking as much as I could. After a while my stomach was slightly fuller, clenching painfully around only water. I knew I had to eat something.
I looked down at my hands, rubbed raw from starting a fire, still damp and with dirt caked under the fingernails. They were still shaking. Closing them into fists, I looked around for a sharp stick. I found one by almost gouging my hand on it and looked warily toward the stream of fish.
Just skewer one, right? Can’t be that hard.
I knew it was going to be, I already felt a little nauseous, knowing how much I’d have to exert myself to catch a stupid fish.
---------------------
I was right, it took a while and by the end, there was a twitching fish at the end of my makeshift spear, tossed to the ground while I lay panting by the stream. Black spots faded in and out of my vision; I was thirsty again.
I definitely should have done this sooner, when I had more energy.
I laid there, staring at the willow tree. Still blowing faintly in the annoyingly pleasant weather.
“All that for a fish, huh? You don't have to work that hard to get food. You just sit there, drinking shit from the ground and soaking up the sun. Don’t you have anything else to do besides sunbathe all day?”
Once again, the tree did not respond. I heaved a sigh that made my chest rattle a bit and peeled myself off the ground, scooping up my dinner and heading to the cave.
--------------------
Gutting the fish was just as revolting as I thought it would be, and it took a while due to lack of supplies. I managed to get it over the fire and didn’t eat it until it was sufficiently charred. Burnt might not taste the greatest, but it was better than E. Coli. I choked it down with some water from the stream and attempted to keep it in my stomach. I couldn’t waste it like that after all the work that went into trying to eat something.
That night I sat on the beach, watching the sunset and once again wondering if anyone would find me.
If they do, how long will I have been here, a year, ten? ...Twenty?
At this point I was well acquainted with tears. They streamed down my face and as the day bid goodbye, I fell asleep on slightly softer ground than usual, not even receiving the comfort of dreams.
--------------------
About a week later, I was attempting to start a fire to cook the fish I clumsily caught when a bird landed in front of me. It was very odd looking; it had a hat and a backpack on its front that said “Newspaper”. A sense of dread started building in the back of my mind as we locked eyes. I attempted to ignore it (I was unsuccessful). We stayed that way for a hot second, just staring at each other, until it tilted its head and held out a newspaper. I attempted to snatch it, but the damn Pidgeon was too fast.
“Come on just give me the damn thing already!”
I was definitely losing my mind. I’d only been alone a week or so, but that had resulted in me yelling at birds and talking to pretty trees. The only form of contact I’d had since I woke up here. This resulted in me chasing around the bird that held something of the outside world. The shouting continued.
“GOD FUCKING DAM-” I pounced on the bird and laughed victoriously as I pinned it to the ground. It was squawking and pecking at me, but I didn’t let up. Snatching the newspaper away from the greedy little creature, I finally got off and let it go. It got up and ruffled its feathers around while sending me a glare, before flying away. After a second, I felt something wet splat on my head, and a sound that sounded a little too much like avian laughter.
I didn’t have to look up to know that I’d been shat on by that stupid fucking bird. Standing up like the ground was on fire, I flipped the stupid News Coo the bird and started screaming every profanity I knew at the sky as it faded into a dot. Leaving me with the dreaded realization that I finally knew where I was.
Damn it, fucking One Piece.