Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Jade
By the time I get back to the cabin I’m limping and shivering.
Trying not to cry, I slide my board along the small veranda so it leans against the railing.
I’ll have to get it repaired, but that leaves me with only one board for the time being, and I’m supposed to be keeping in shape for the next comp.
Not that I’m going to be in the water for a couple of days at least. My injured leg is numb, blood still leaking from the gouges, a trail of droplets in the sand.
I go around the side of the cabin, to the outdoor shower.
Tropical living is all very well, but I’m freezing cold and wish I could go inside and get in a steaming hot shower.
Still, this will have to do. I turn on the tap, stepping back from the icy droplets.
Once it warms up, I strip off, careful as I take my shorts and bikini bottoms over my injured leg.
I drape my clothes over the screen and rinse myself off, trying not to get sand in my injuries, biting back a scream as hot water streams over the wounds.
I’ll have to flush them out with salt water, which might seem an odd thing to do, seeing as I just got out of the ocean.
But, beautiful and clear as the water is here, the sea still carries sand and debris and microscopic bits of seaweed, so I need to make sure the wound is clean enough to heal properly.
Finally feeling warmer, I turn the tap off and head into the small bathroom.
My leg is bleeding again, so I stand on my wet shorts as I reach for one of the fluffy cream towels on the shelf.
I squeak, more from surprise than anything, as a small gecko scurries out from behind them.
I dry off, wrapping the towel around me.
Then, with a silent apology to my host, I grab a hand towel, dampening it with cold water from the tap in the sink and holding it to my leg.
I wish Manny was here. Or even bloody Zach.
Just someone to be with me, so I don’t have to do this alone.
But it’s just me, so suck it up, buttercup.
Holding the towel to my leg I go to the kitchen area.
My first aid kit is on the counter where I left it.
I open it, pulling out saline and bandages.
It’s smart to carry a kit, as you never know where you might be when you get injured, some surf spots too out of the way to get quick medical help.
But I hadn’t expected to be using it here, especially after not even getting one goddamn wave.
I rinse out my wounds, then grab a lime from the fruit bowl and slice it in half.
Before I can think too much about it, I rub it over the cuts.
It’s the best way to guard against infections from coral scrapes, but it stings like fire.
I bite my lip, snarling “Motherfucker,” under my breath.
Once I’m done, I cover everything with a bandage, then look around.
There’s a sheet somewhere, I saw it last night, with information about the island.
I need to find a medical facility. Maybe I should head back to Bali and find a doctor there.
I need to speak to Zach, properly anyway…
But as soon as I think it my stomach twists.
I don’t want to go back to Bali.
I don’t want to look at Zach’s messages, either.
I came here for a break and, even though it’s been an absolutely shitty twenty-four hours, this place is already having an effect on me.
I’m starting to feel like myself again, like the old me is fighting her way back out from under all the layers of personality.
As though here, I can be free. Anna said this place was magical, and maybe she’s right.
I’m not ready to leave. Not without giving myself the chance to find out.
I scan the list of amenities. It’s not long; a bar, a general store, a restaurant, a few other shops. And, thank god, a medical facility.
I quickly comb out the tangles in my hair, shrug on a short kaftan dress and sandals, then grab my wallet and head out.
Axel
I’m still thinking about the girl on the beach on my return. The cuts on her leg looked nasty. Kind of like her personality.
Then I realise who she had to be. The mysterious Jade.
My as yet unknown guest. Shit. She might not know about the dangers of getting a coral scrape, especially considering her old board.
Back at my place, I dig around under the sink, looking for my first aid kit.
Pulling it out, I grab a lime from the bowl on the counter before heading outside, taking the pathway to her cabin.
When I get there, I recognise the surfboard, propped up against the railing. It’s badly dinged, the tip gone as well as a chunk off the side, and a fin is missing. Yet it still has beautiful lines, and I can tell how well-balanced it must be to ride.
There are spots of blood on the veranda, leading around the side of the cabin. I head that way, calling out “hello,” just in case she’s showering. But there’s no hiss of water, no sign of her apart from a swirl of sand around the plughole, and her damp rash vest hanging over the screen.
I go back around the front and knock on the door. There’s no answer. Shit. I hope she’s all right. I knock again, louder, then try the door. “Hello?”
I stick my head inside, but there’s no one there.
Just a blood-soaked towel in the sink, and a cut lime on the counter.
I guess that answers my question about whether or not she knows about coral infection, although she could have just been making herself a drink.
The list of island amenities is out on the table, so hopefully she’s headed for the medical centre.
I leave a couple of bandages and a tube of antiseptic cream on the table just in case, then head out, closing the door behind me.
I pause, running a hand over her damaged surfboard, wondering whether I should take it with me and leave her a note.
In the end, I decide against it. She can come and find me, if she needs to. There’s nothing else I can do to help.
As I head back to the house, my phone buzzes again. Another message pops up from my father.
Our decision is made. You had your chance. Please, try to understand our position.
My jaw tightens, my fist clenching around my phone. I’m tempted to throw it into the ocean. But then I’d just have to get a new phone.
Fuck, though. This is not good news.