R e y n a

My body jerked upwards, my eyes flying open. The calming view of the sun setting behind the edge of the ocean was a stark contrast to the fear burning inside me. Sand prickled against my arms and legs. Waves brushed up against my feet repeatedly, like a dog trying to play fetch.

I ran my hands over my body, checking—although I didn't know what I was looking for. I'd never had anything to call my own, and it remained so. All I had was the thin brown cloth that covered my body.

When I tried to stand, my legs failed me. Heaving, I tried again. It didn't work. Two dark shadows were walking towards me. Friend or foe? The answer is always foe where humans are concerned.

Get away! Hide! My mind screamed, but my body screamed back. Your legs are not fucking working, putain!

"Oye! Aqui!" Their voices seemed closer than I expected, speaking a language that I wasn't familiar with.

I pressed my fingers to my forehead. My skin was seared from the hours that I had laid unconscious in the sand. It felt like I was made of leather. Am I going to pass out again?  I thought. Not with two foreign men running towards me.

I pushed my hands against the sand, groaning as I attempted to find my balance. Somehow, I managed, walking like a newborn doe in the opposite direction of the running men. The purple sky had darkened rapidly, like a wilted petal forgotten between the pages of a book.

Hands hooked on my arms, holding me back from taking another step. I couldn't fight back. "No," I groaned. Thankfully 'no' was a word understood universally. My voice came out raspy, barely there.

I kept my eyes down, knowing how dangerous eye contact can be. The sun had disappeared, meaning there was no shadow for me to dicipher what I was up against. His deep, exhausted voice asked, "¿Necesitas agua, chica?" He looked to the other man. "Ella necesita agua."

"No," I said again. I didn't know what he was offering, but I didn't want it.

That was until he held a bottle of water in front of my face. The water was so cool it perspired, little droplets slowly slid down and hit the sand. Ah, oui, I needed that.

When I took it in my hands, a sigh left my lips. The chilled plastic felt incredible against my skin. I wanted to rub it all over me—but that wouldn't have been appropriate. I checked the lid, making sure it hadn't been open before. When I heard the satisfying crrrr of the seal being broken, I couldn't contain myself. I held my breath and made water my priority, chugging the bottle.

I rubbed the remaining droplets against my tanned brown skin. "Thank you." English wasn't my first language, but it was the one that they'd be most likely to understand.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he said, "De nada, chica. ¿Necesitas ayuda?" He looked to be in his mid-40s. His dark hair was streaked with grey, and the beginnings of a scruffy beard shadowed his face. A sailors emblem was tattooed on his bicep, peaking out from beneath his faded linen shirt.

I nodded. I could tell he was offering help of some sort. In other circumstances, I'd say no—but what more did I have to lose? There is something empowering in having nothing left for people to take.

I wasn't a fighter. I had never been one. Maybe it is what got me into trouble in the first place, but I won't let a world full of fire lure me into the flames.

The other man was shorter and slightly more plump. His curly black hair was matted. I couldn't pinpoint why—maybe his narrow, darting eyes—but he seemed very nervous.

I looked up one last time, out towards the shoreline which was slowly beginning to blend into the darkness of the night. The air was fresh, scented like salt and earth. "Where am I?" I asked the strangers.

They glanced at each other, their expressions difficult to read. Were they confused, worried or on the hunt? All I knew was that I needed to survive, and that going with these men would be the best way to do so.

"Here, Espain," they attempted to reply, his accent causing the r of his words to rumble.

Spain? It wasn't the reply I had expected. After crossing the ocean and waking up on foreign sand, I had hoped to be in a place where I could at least speak the language.

From the lack of people around, it wasn't a big town either. That would make it harder to catch transport or find safety.

I always assumed that I'd never trust a man again; that I'd rather starve. I was wrong. My stomach ached and I wanted the feeling gone.

"What work do you do?" I ask.

They shared another look. There was something weird going on between them.

The thing about people who want to kill you is they never say it upfront. I wasn't sure if I'd survive the night.

With shaking hands and a tightness in my chest, I nodded. "Let's go then."

———

Hello hello! Thank you for being here. I am very  very very excited (and nervous).

It is going to be a challenge writing some of the themes I want to include in this story. But I realise that when creating something, it is better to be in your body than stuck in your head. I'm following my gut.

How is your day going, my favourite chicken nugget?

Lots of love and jelly tots - Laylaa
To stay in contact, find me on Instagram @ laylaawrites