Chapter Four -

Pain.

Cold.

Wet.

Those were the only things Ophelia's half conscious mind were able to register. Panic settles in her like a spirit possessing her body, its ice cold fingers wrapping around her spine. Ophelia forces her eyelids open, her eyes widening. Multiple stalactites stare back at her like spears ready to pierce her soft flesh.

Harsh coughs suddenly rattle her weak frame. She doubles over, sea water dripping down her chin as it forces its way out of her lungs. Her ribs feel like knives are being stabbed into them with each shuddering cough. She bites her tongue to keep her from crying out.

As the coughs finally come to a stop, Ophelia takes in a shuddering breath. She hesitantly looks down at her abdomen to see the damage done to her during the storm.

Her tank top is ripped to shreds, blood and sand making the shirts original colour hardly identifiable. Blood. So much blood. With shaking hands, she lifts the hem of her shirt, a soft cry escaping her lips as she peels it off her skin.

The soft skin of her stomach is littered with cuts and bruises. One slash goes ll the way from underneath her left breast, slowly dragging across her stomach in a jagged line, all the way to the crest of her right hip. The cuts stretch and pull with every move she makes, the sand in her grinding into open wounds. She is vaguely aware of a similar sting on her back.

Her gaze travels down her bare legs to see they are in similar shape, if not worse. One cut drags down the outside of her right thigh, roughly nine inches long. Other cuts litter her legs in all different directions, some deep, others shallow scrapes.

A dull ache in her hand causes her gaze to drift to her arms. Judging by the immobility of the ring and middle fingers of her left hand, Ophelia deduces the fingers are broken. Her arms look much like the rest of her body, her right shoulder stiff and aching, no doubt having been wrenched in an odd direction during the storm.

Too shrined to remain sitting, Ophelia flops onto her back, her body crying out in pain as her tender spine meets hard ground. The ache in her ribs intensifies and Ophelia realises she probably broke a rib or two. She is in too much pain and is too scared to feel and see if she is right.

Tears roll down her cheeks and into her hair as she stares up at the stalactites above her. She has no idea how she got here. And above ll else,

She has no idea how she is still alive.

By all accounts, she should be dead, just floating meat in an endless ocean, her body no doubt being ripped apart by sharks. Or being ripped apart by the very creature that took her. A shiver runs down her spine as she recalls the image.

Pale skin. Obsidian eyes. Long claws. Sharp teeth. A tail.

She can remember screaming. She was so afraid...so terrified. Ophelia wonders why...of all people...why take her? It hadn't even glanced at the rest of her family, seeming to only want her.

She's glad of that, really. She can't imagine having to see her brother being taken by the monster. She wonders how they are taking her absence. Do they think she is dead? Are they dead? Tears well up in her eyes as she considers the possibility. She has survived somehow, but did they?

Ophelia lays on her back, softly crying as the trauma sets in. She is alive, yet alone, and with no way of knowing if the rest of her family even survived. She whimpers as she struggles to raise her hand high enough to wipe her tears, the cuts stinging and joints aching.

No. She can't just lay here like this. If her family really is dead, there is nothing she can do about it; she will assume they have safely arrived back to the island. If she is to survive, she has to do something about her current situation.

With that resolve, Ophelia forces herself into a sitting position. Trying her best to ignore the pain in her body, she casts her gaze on the cave around her. The cave is probably twelve feet high, and fifteen feet wide.

The cave's mouth opens to the sea, the entire cave submerged under the water except for the small area Ophelia is in, at the back of the cave. The dry part where she sits is basically a half moon shape that's about ten feet from where the water's edge to the back of the cave. The water rises up to her like a miniature beach.

Rocks and boulders rise from the water and litter the beach where Ophelia sits. Through the cave's mouth, she can see the outside, rain cascading down almost violently. It must not have been long then since she blacked out. It is getting darker though.

Eyeing the water warily, Ophelia decides it is the only way to cleanse her wounds. She bites her lip in trepidation. She has no idea if the creature is still there, or even if there are other creatures that could reach her if she were to get in the water. Not only that, but there is no way she could defend herself in her current state. At this rate, she won't even be able to swim out of the cave, let alone fight an underwater creature.

"I have to do it," Ophelia says aloud, almost as if hearing her own words will give her more courage. "Whatever it takes to survive, right?"

With that, Ophelia begins to drag herself into the water. She starts by swinging her legs in front of her and dipping her feet into the dark water. With the little light, she can barely see. She plants her hands by her hips and uses what little arm strength she has left to raise her pelvis off the ground and slides forwards. Scooting her feet further out, she repeats the action, her feet now submerged up to her knees.

A soft cry sounds from her throat as she forces her body further, all the way until the water is just underneath her armpits while in the sitting position. She is too afraid to go any further.

Lightheadedness causes Ophelia to nearly pass out, her eyelids blinking rapidly in an effort to keep herself conscious. As the dizziness passes, she sets about gently rinsing her injuries.

Tears spring into her eyes as the sand scrapes her skin as she brushes it away from her body with shaking hands. Ophelia carefully removes her tattered tank top and shorts, leaving her in the navy blue swimsuit. She gently squeezes the blood from the fabric before using it as a cloth to clean the rest of her body.

Once the majority of the blood and sand is gone, Ophelia uses the same actions as before to get back out of the water, this time in reverse. Now on dry land, she moves onto her knees.

Ophelia decides to create a mental checklist of her body's capabilities.

First up: standing.

She uses a nearby boulder to steady herself, the pain is so intense she nearly collapses. Ophelia forces herself to rise from her knees, her muscles screaming. She keeps going, knowing she will probably lose the willpower to stand if she doesn't do it now. Her legs wobble underneath her, but she succeeds in remaining standing.

Standing: Check.

Next up: Walking.

She takes in a deep breath, willing herself to not succumb to her body's pain. Mentally singing 'Seven Nation Army', Ophelia takes her first step. The bottoms of her bare feet sting as she steps on the tiny rocks that litter the ground. Her steps are wobbly and her right hip is killing her, but she is successful.

Walking: Check.

A tiny smile lifts the corners of her lips as her hands press into the cave's wall; she crossed all ten feet without falling. Not a huge feat, but to her, it's amazing. Using the wall, she lowers herself to the ground where she lays her legs out in front of her and rests her back against the hard stone.

She watches the rain outside, her eyelids slowly drooping. However she got here, she is glad its here and not out there in the rain. With exhaustion plaguing her body, she lets her eyes shut, allowing sleep to take over.