Chapter Five -

Ophelia is awoken from her slumber by a low grumbling sound in her stomach. Hunger. It's quite obvious. She was probably too stunned by shock last night to take any notice of the growing ache in her belly.

She leans forward, her neck and shoulders stiff from having slept leaning against the cave's wall. Her muscles ache as she forces movement in her limbs, the soreness from yesterday lingering unwelcomely. Rain no longer drizzles outside the mouth of the cave, the sun bright and shining. Its light shines on the water, reflecting off the rippling surface and onto the cave's many stalactites overhead.

Ophelia's attention is drawn back to food by another rumble of her stomach. Her tongue is also wanting not just for food, but also for water. Her mouth is dry and cottony from the lack of moisture, and uncomfortable feeling for sure.

Well, as neither seem to be attainable, food not being catchable in her current state of handicap and the only available water being salty, she decides on instead building a fire. Some dry warmth would be nice.

Except, there also seems to be a lack of wood as well.

No fire.

No water.

No food.

The most she could go without water is roughly three days. Guessing it's been about sixteen to twenty hours since she last ate or drank anything, Ophelia decides she has about two days before she needs water. She has about a week before she will die of starvation, so she sets food and water aside for the time being.

It could be argued that she needs to start looking for resources now, but her current state could lead her to waste more calories and become more fatigued than if she was to wait a day.

She looks at her surroundings, her gaze settling on the rocky ground. I could make the space more comfortable...she ponders to herself.

Deciding to move her body as little as possible, as to not waste her precious calories or risk injuring herself even more, Ophelia sits herself back down against the wall. Little by little, she picks up the rocks and tosses them aside.

She slowly clears the are of rocks, leaving just sandy, pebbly ground. This way, she won't bruise herself on the uneven ground when she sleeps. Scooting herself forward, she continues, all the way to the water, which is much further away than it was yesterday.

This is probably due to the tide, she realises. It was probably high tide when she fell asleep, and low tide now. The low tide has given her access to at least fifteen more feet, doubling her earlier guess in size.

After some consideration, Ophelia has arranged her little beach almost as if it were her home. It is a silly idea, really, but it helps her cope. Adding att least some sort of normality helps her to adjust with the reality that she might not survive. She can at least be comfortable while she withers away, right?

The area against the wall where her tank top is laid as a mini blanket will serve as her bed. The place to the left of the mini bed, behind a large rock that is quite close to the water's edge will serve as her bathroom. When the tide comes up, it will wash away any excrement. On the other side is her sink; a little puddle. She realises that her little 'sink' is rather unreasonable and in no way sanitary, but it's the thought that counts.

She hadn't decided on any other rooms, but she does feel like the right wall with all the pockets from years of erosion would be a perfect place for a book shelf. A potential library, maybe? She ignores the fact that she has no books.

However small it may be, Ophelia smiles.

*

Ophelia whimpers, her hand gently holding her gurgling stomach. It's been many hours since she awoke, probably six to eight at least, though she has no way to be certain. The sun has set, the moon reflecting on the ocean's surface and into her cave. The rippling water reflects the light onto the ceiling, bathing the cave in a dull glow.

Another wimpier slips past Ophelia's lips as she becomes light headed. She rests her head back on the wall behind her. Hunger is a lot harder to overcome than she had originally thought.

About two hours after she awoke, she began to get dizzy. Three hours after that had her pale and her vision swimming. Ever since, she has been slumped against the wall, her body too weak to do anything else. Not that there is anything for her to do, anyway. Go to the bathroom, maybe. But after already going twice, she isn't sure there is much left for her body to expel.

Not only is Ophelia hungry, but she is also in so much pain it nearly has tears running down her face. They days exercise combined with the lack of sanitation has her entire body stinging. The blood and ooze has since dried, therefore any movements causes the scabs to crack and pull at her skin.

The very renters of the cuts are covered in a milky green puss, a grotesque sight to her innocent eyes. Her own nose crinkles in disgust as she peers at the disgusting flesh. She has also noticed that the laceration on her thigh does not go straight in, but at an angle, causing the flesh on the inner side to pull up if she pries at it.

On the bright side, her broken fingers are not crooked, which means they should grow back straight as long as she doesn't mess with them while they heal.

Ophelia briefly wonders how long it will take for the rumoured 'hunger pains' to set in. Is it two days? Three days? It doesn't matter, really. Ophelia isn't sure how much more pain she can endure.

With gentle yet shaky movements, Ophelia slowly drags herself to the waters edge. The tide has gone up since, giving her about a twenty foot gap between her and the water. Twenty feet has never seemed so far for Ophelia.

She has now mastered the art of sliding herself backwards and forwards in her crouched position. It is in no way easy or painless, but it works. She is able to move much more efficiently and much faster than when she first started.

Finally, at the waters edge, Ophelia dips her feet in the darkened waters. The sea feels warm compared to the cool air of the cave. The indirect breeze that swirls in the cave gently moves her hair around her face and tickles her neck. She had tied it into a bun as best as she could, but it still sags a bit. The injuries on her stomach and ribs make raising her arms quite difficult.

And so she sets about cleansing herself in the oceans salty water. Extremity by extremity, she removes the grime and sand from her body. She gently hums, her breath hitching in pain every so often, but the gentle lull of familiar songs ease her mind.

She is so focused on her cleaning, that she doesn't notice the water rippling as the lithe creature breaks the surface of the stillness. In fact, she doesn't notice him for quite some time. Ophelia only realises his presence when he is close enough for her to hear his breathing.

Her head raises slowly, eyes widening and hands stilling as she meets his familiar, unwelcoming dark gaze.

Ophelia gasps breathlessly and begins to scramble backwards, but her body fails her. She collapses halfway out of the water, her elbows meeting the rough ground harshly and she groans.

The creature watches her struggle. He had smelled her the second she entered the water and was curious to know why she would do such a thing as to enter his domain. His steady gaze doesn't miss the trickle of blood that drips down her leg, its deep red colour contrasting against her pale skin.

Cold fear latches its talons around Ophelia's spine, her breaths shortening into quick pants. Her body Chesterfields in protest as she collapses moves slowly back onto dry land, her ankles just out of the dark water. She isn't sure if it's exhaustion or fear that has her unable to retreat further.

Through the semi-darkness, Ophelia is able to make out the creature's features. His body is only visible from the chest up, the dark waters obscuring his massive tail. His skin is the palest she has ever seen.

Arteries criss-cross over the entire expanse of his skin, the lack of melanin making his epidermis nearly translucent. His dark hair lays over his head in a lazy mop, the top ruffled almost as if he had brushed it out of his eyes upon surfacing. A shiver runs down her spine as her gaze settles on the strange slits on the side of his neck.

His features are sharp and exotic, but hauntingly human. His eyes are the only things to give away his true identity.

Terrifying, obsidian eyes.

There is no difference between pupils and iris. The deep, bottomless pits, so full of darkness and death, yet so alive at the same time. The moonlight reflects off his colourless irises, the shine giving them an ethereal glow of inhuman beauty.

He watches her emotionlessly, his head tilted slightly to the side. Ophelia wonders if he has come back to finish her off, but if he has, what is he waiting for? Does he not realise that he could easily reach for her once the tide comes up? There is no hint of malice in his colourless gaze, only mild curiosity, if that.

The creature glides forward.

"Pl-please, n-no," Ophelia chokes as she struggles to withhold her tears. She pulls her feet up and curls into a ball on her side, her ribs aching painfully in her abdomen.

The creature slows, his eyebrows furring at the human before him. Ophelia watches with baited breath for the creature's next move. Her eyes widen as he sinks back into the water, vanishing from sight.

She waits a few more beats before she finally lets her muscles relax and her breaths to slow. She watches the spot where he disappeared for however long, she isn't sure. Her eyes seem glued to the area, unable to move from where the frightening creature had just been a few moments ago.

A scream bursts from her dry throat as the creature once again rises back from the depths. Water drips down his pale skin, little droplets dripping from his pointed nose. His tail flicks up from beneath the water, creating a small splash as he propels himself forward.

Ophelia silently pleads for her life as the creature draws closer and closer. Her eyes widen as he stops merely six feet away. The shallowness of the water has him on his belly, his obsidian tail stretched out behind him.

Ophelia shivers under his penetrating gaze.

Ophelia flinches, covering her eyes as he raises his hand, almost as if he was to strike her. She jumps when something slaps on the ground in front of her. Slowly, eyelid by eyelid, she peeks her eyes open. On the ground before her is a small fish about the length of her hand. Her eyes glance out at the water, only to see the creature is nowhere to be found.

Her gaze settles on the dead fish, its head clearly smashed. With trembling hands, she picks it up. She had no way to cook it, and she isn't sure why the creature brought it to her. After many moments of gazing at the small fish, her hunger takes over her.

With a scrunched nose and teary eyes, she sinks her teeth into the raw fish.