Wayward

[Thessa Kai]

The old, married man found her. Grey had taken over his beard years ago. He was on vacation with his family when his wife spotted the girl. Or what was left on the rocky shores.

He thought it was a pile of driftwood.

It was so cold. Winter season. How could anyone survive the water for that long? Her clothes were water-logged and shredded. Only fresh leaking blood clung to the fabric, stains of old blood battered away by the salt and surf. She looked mangled and well used up. Pockets were shredded. If she once had anything identifying, the sea robbed that too.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uB_zi69GQFg

 

[Thessa Kai]

They were clicks and leagues away from anything: transportation, comm signals, people. It was a remote vacation spot. Good thing his wife was a retired nurse and good thing he used to lift heavy-duty crates in that cortosis factory. Else, he never would've gotten the girl off the beach.

It was rough the first twenty-four hours. The next forty-eight was worse. Even after that. He didn't think she'd make it. The next supply drop-off wasn't for another fortnight. And there was no way to signal an earlier transport. The retired factory worker and retired nurse were on their own with Miss Jane Doe.

After a few restless nights of no sleep for either him or his wife, she finally stabilized. There's a huge scar running down the right side of her face; the one without scales. The wife frets over it more than the girl cares. She doesn't talk much. It's like she's lost her voice along with her memories. The girl will sit for hours staring at the sea.

Maybe thinking about what she's lost?

 

[Thessa Kai]

The girl has enough strength to stand now. She'd lean on the old man's muscled arm or the retired nurse's. She pushes it on her own, insisting to walk further each day. Insisting not to help when she falls. Her muscle strength is returning slowly along with her appetite.

The supply run came. The old man offered to take the girl into town. He asked if there was somewhere he could drop her off. She refused. And she seemed scared. He wasn't sure if even she knew why. The wife and the old man talked in hushed whispers the night before. They agreed that he would go into town and make some inquiries.

If nothing came of it, they'd offer to take the girl with them, when they went back home. It was clear she had no where else to go. No one. At least, none she could remember.

 

[Thessa Kai]

Not a soul in town knew who she was. The old man slumped his shoulders. He was hoping. For her sake. He could tell not knowing was eating her up.

The next night he and his wife had a conversation with Jane. That's what they called her and she never offered a protest. He told her about his trip to town. But no one knew anything about her. She stared quietly at the sea the entire time. Unflinching.

His wife always noticed how the girl looked at the water. But she never wanted to go near it. She was afraid, and understandably so. Still, the girl would spend hours in the tub. So it wasn't the water itself. But he never pushed it. Neither did his wife.

 

[Thessa Kai]

It was clear the old man and his wife adopted the girl into their family as one of their own. And she felt their love. Some inner instinct told her how rare something like this was. When they asked if she wanted to go with them back to their home, she didn't hesitate. She said yes.

And for once, iced-azure gaze and scarred face tore away from the dark waters of the sea to look at their faces. To really look. This was her family now. And maybe one day she'd find out more about her past. Had she had a family? Were they still living? Did they think of her? Why was her ache as large and fathomless as that black water out of that window?

 

[Thessa Kai]

These questions would drive her mad. She knew. She had to move forward but remain open to discovering the past, no matter how painful it might be. But for now, she'd pack the borrowed clothes that were her belongings. She'd stare at the scar on her disfigured face. She'd turn off the light and slip under the crisp sheets of the bed. She'd listen to the crash of waves on the rocky shores outside the window.

She'd close her eyes and drift into a black sleep. She'd dream of water slipping through her fingers. Those were her memories. Things that were always just outside her grasp. Things that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hold onto.