AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Did you say yes? You speak English?”
I sigh again.
“Call an ambulance!” the man yells to someone while carrying me somewhere. Even though he sounds muffled thanks to the water rumbling in my ears, he’s loud enough for me to hear him. “Get them to meet us at the pier.”
He’s an American, and his calmness gives me hope that my injuries might not be as severe as I feel.
But a scream follows. A woman.
“Lina, calm down. Call the ambulance.” Despite his reassuring voice, the woman seems to be crying now.
Amidst the chaos, something spreads on top of me. I think I’m being wrapped with a fire blanket while being laid down on what feels like a padded bench. I’m desperate to see where I am, but thanks to the swelling, it feels like my eyeballs are about to leave their sockets.
As my body adjusts to the warmer air around me, pain crawls along my face, like thousands of ants are peeling what’s left of the skin and eating away the flesh.
I whimper, begging for the stranger to do something.
“No, no, don’t do that.” The man keeps my hands away from my face. Something sticks like barbwire. “I’ll get those off you. They’re just hairs.”
I feel movements right above my left cheek, and I flinch, only to hurt myself even more.
“Stay still,” he says, his fingers skimming the top of my cheekbone. There’s a crackling sound, perhaps of it disintegrating.
My whimper turns to a cry. God, it hurts!
“Sorry, I’m sorry I had to do that. One more, stay still.” The man gently keeps my arms at my sides and then, when he’s sure I’m not moving, he picks the last strands from my eyes and lips.
What’s left of my face now? There must be something, because I can still feel the difference between tears and lake water. Albeit exacerbating my pain, the tears attest that I’m still human.
With my inability to see, coupled with my ears profusely draining themselves, my sense of touch heightens. A hand gathers my dangling mitt, almost engulfing every inch of it. It’s thick, its grip bold but comforting.
My fingers are most likely blue, with peeling skin from getting a good soaking, but his sheer warmth prompts me to take a calm, deep breath, halting my whimpers. As if he feels the need to do more, his other palm rubs against my knuckles, and then he enfolds it to cover whatever part of my hand is still exposed.
“Help will be waiting on the shore. I’ll get you there fast. You can count on me.” His energy fills the space, and the tense air dissipates. I think the man is smiling. “I might get fined for speeding, but hey, I’m a safe captain. Just stay calm.”
If he keeps holding me like this, I will. Even if I never get to know who this fast-and-safe skipper is, I will always remember his hold. The sensation isn’t something that I will forget anytime soon—if ever.
“Rob, is she dead?” the woman says. She has a different accent. I don’t think she’s local either.
“Shh! She’s not dead!”
Despite the lady’s pessimism, my heart slows down, as if my body knows that I’m in safe hands. I might as well have been served happy gas, because I’m slipping into unconsciousness—willingly, serenely.
The next thing I know, I’m being moved, likely on a stretcher. With my eyes feeling somewhat less sticky and coarse, I open them—cops, ambulance. I keep scanning despite the air acting like sandpaper on my eyeballs. There’s no sign of anyone that might resemble the man who saved me. I feel a tinge of disappointment. I should’ve at least tried to say thank you to him.
Then I hear a woman talking to me in Swiss-French. In between blinks, I see her. She’s in plain clothes, but she mentions the word ‘Police Genève’ a few times.
“Please don’t let my boyfriend know I’m alive,” I say. Or that’s what I think I tell her. I’m not sure if my lips are able to form a coherent sentence—if I still have lips.
“You speak English? What did you say?”
I try one more time, repeating what I’m attempting to say.
“Boy… boyfriend? You want me to call your boyfriend?”
Knowing I can’t rely on my ability to clarify myself with words, I twist my body, making sure she knows the word ‘boyfriend’ is bad for me.
“Your boyfriend did this?”
