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Tears well up in my eyes.
“Keep fighting, Lock,” I say. “Don’t you dare give up now. I forgive you for being an asshole; now stay here and fight. Fight for me. Fight for us.”
I lay my head down on his chest, tears cascading down onto his chest.
They say you don’t know how much you need someone until they’re gone.
Right now, I need him more than ever. He has to come back.
And I whisper the words I wish I had said before. Before my whole world came crashing down.
“I love you.”
Accompanying Song: “She Remembers” by Max Richter
Juliet
When we arrive, we’re immediately picked up by an ambulance that takes us both to the hospital. At the entrance, a bunch of reporters have gathered, and they shower me with questions about what happened to the research team, the crash, the island … and the secret inhabitant. I don’t answer any of their questions. I don’t even know how they found out, but I guess when something is shocking, the news travels like wildfire.
I just want them to be gone. I have no intentions of ever appearing on the news. Ever. I just want to be left alone … All I care about is Lock.
We’re separated when we’re inside the hospital, but Lock’s in good hands.
In my own room, I’m checked by various doctors and put on medication. They do a test, and I ask them if I’m pregnant … the answer is no.
I’m not sure if I should be elated.
All this time, the thought of being pregnant loomed in the back of my head.
But now that worry has evaporated … replaced by a different kind of fear.
The bed is warm and cozy, but I can’t stop thinking about Lock and how he’s doing. I hope they can help him.
They’re probably already disinfecting and suturing his wounds, maybe even putting him under for surgery. Who knows.
They won’t tell me anything. They’re keeping things under tight wraps, and I don’t like it one bit.
What if they’re trying to keep us separated so they can report us to the authorities? Or more importantly … him? He’s done some questionable things in his life. Someone out there is probably looking for him. The mother of that little girl, for example.
If only people knew the real story. The real man behind the rough exterior. That man has suffered enough.
What he did was wrong, but a man like that can’t be put in jail. It would break him. He’s a free spirit who doesn’t understand our world. I just hope they’ll understand. And I hope I can talk to him, the staff, and everyone else who wants to know about him before they report him to the police.
Or maybe they’re keeping me away from him, so I can recover without worrying. What if he’s already past saving? Already dying as we speak?
And I’m not even there to hold his hand.
My whole body begins to shake, and I quickly grasp the glass of water on my bed stand and gulp it down. I continue staring out the window, wishing I knew more.
I already told the police and the doctors everything they wanted to know. I told them about the island, how I crashed there, how we survived … and about the tiger that attacked Lock.
They even said they would send a search party to the island to find the bodies at the helicopter and bring them back home. I still shudder to think that I left them there.
But at least I survived … that has to count for something, right?
At least now I’ll be able to go home.
Finally.
But then why am I still not happy?
Someone knocks on my door, and I’m pulled from my thoughts. It’s Mom, and moments later, my dad also appears.
I smile as they come in, and my mom hugs me tight.
“Oh, Jules … we were so worried about you.” She starts to cry and so do I.
Even my dad when he comes closer for a hug lets out a few tears. “Jules,” he mumbles, practically unable to utter more words.
“It’s okay … Mom, Dad.” I look at them and swipe away a tear on my cheek. “I’m okay now. I’m okay.”
They nod and sit down beside my bed. My mom holds my hand, refusing to let go.
“When your company back at home called us to tell us they’d lost contact with your team, we were so scared,” Mom says, hiccupping.
“I was too,” I say, sitting up straight in the bed. “I saw them … I saw … They’re all dead.” I sniff, barely able to keep it inside.
“That’s horrible,” Dad says.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Mom says, hugging me again. “It must’ve been tough to live there all on your own.”
I shake my head. “But I wasn’t on my own.”
They both frown. “What do you mean?”
“Well …” A blush spreads on my cheeks. “There was a man. He found me and took care of me.”
