• She used to think her father was joking, kidding around with her to make her scared. But now that they were on their way to some country in Africa, she was seriously considering suicide.

    After all, she /was/ in the cargo bay. She /could/ maybe just slip and fall right out and plummet into the tormenting waves of an unforgiving ocean. Maybe the sharks /could/ forget she was there and she would fall into a deep sleep of which there wouldn't be an awakening. This wasn't the way to go and she knew it, but one must think about ALL of the options. Those options were limited.

    The swirling eyes that she possessed rolled over to her baggage, only one bag because her father had said they wouldn't need much, and she frowned. How come sometimes all he cared about was his business and his little world that he thought was so big? How come it seemed that she had, over the years, become completely forgotten?

    She looked up to the small entrance from which she came, and could see the blinking red light on the inside of the plane signaling seatbelts. First-class flight wasn't so cool when you were stuck with all the bags.

    Delilah slipped into a smaller corner and bit deep down into her nail, closing her eyes and singing to herself. Her crooning voice was enough to sooth her pain: she didn't have a knife or scissors to help her with that.

    The plane bumped her around for a moment, but she didn't notice. She was too deep in her own spell. It sped up rapidly, meandering through invisible forcefields, and this was when she woke up from the daze.

    Her hands pulled her up out of the hole that she had sat in for at least four hours, and looked around curiously. Her father was gone, the pilot was sitting with his head crashed into the windshield. She was sure he wouldn't be waking up.

    She searched frantically around the plane in a fearful daze, rummaging through anything she could find to save her. Grabbing some tylonol, with a smirk of course: she wasn't going to use it just for headaches, and taking a particularily large parachute pack, she opened the door of the speeding plane and hesitated to jump. She saw the ground growing nearer with every second, and saw her future flying past her as fast as the plane was. Delilah jumped, small drops forming in her eyes, and she immediatly pulled the parachute. Her eyes were closed, the island was coming, she was falling.

    It was definatly true that she was completely forgotten.

    ----

    Burning... It burns. It's like the flames are licking my lungs.. my chest, what is happening to me?! I'm dying.. I'm finally dying.. But.. Is it what I really wanted?

    She awoke to find herself tossed unevenly on the sand, her arms twisted under her body like a doll left in the dust. Arms numb, legs in extreme pain, and eyes unable to open. Crust formed around her eyes like they had been shut for a long time, and she forced them open with a sudden rip, tearing the smooth layer of skin that so delicatly lined them. "Shoot.."

    Where was she? Some moody island perhaps, the weather was dreadful. The clouds ahead were dark, like a storm had just passed by, and the sand wet with fallen rain. With the sky crying above her, little by little, she stood up and watched the sand figure that she had formed wash away sluggishly. This wasn't normal. Islands were supposed to be.. happy, right? Yes. They were. This wasn't normal at all.

    The eyes that were droopy and drunk a moment ago flashed open, she looked around in epiphanic fear. No, not fear. Hatred. She hated this island. The trees that stood bent over like lazy students too tired to listen to a lecture, heaved down with the water. They dug into the sand, the blissfully unknowing sand that was too happy for the island. It moved back and forth with the uncaring and violent waves, and far out beyond the shore was a rock. It was a large rock, possibly one that she could dwell on and stay clear of any animals that lived to feed, and on it stood birds. Elegant, angelic birds, that were, again, too happy for this island. They pecked at the water with feeble attempts to find a feast of fish, all the fish were dead.

    But what was this? Other humans? She gasped in joy for maybe, just possibly, she wasn't alone anymore. There was just that hope, but it was vanquished when she saw their statures. They were bent over, in attack mode. Monsters, but still human. Definatly human. "Hello?" she hollared out to them, they could help her survive. They could help her get new, dry, clothes, rather than this sea-stained and ripped cloth. They could help her think that maybe she wasn't dead. Maybe she would be more alive than ever before.

    Or maybe she wouldn't.