My arms were killing me.

The taste of bile was still extremely fresh in my mouth, and seaweed was stuck in my hair. And for the pain? It had spread down from my shoulders to my lower back, where thousands of grains of sand clung to my ragged pants. My bare feet sank into the soft earth, where they were partially buried under rushing and falling salt water.

I vomited until there was nothing left to come up. I heard the murmured voices of the people, some walking by to fill their jugs with water, others to stare. By the third day, I could barely keep my eyes open, and there was open sun. No clouds. Not even the shriveled palm trees could do much for shade, and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Strands of my matted hair hung over my face and scabbed, bleeding lips. I let my dirt rimmed fingernails curl against the wooden post.

The sky had become dark when the sound of rope being cut filled my ears. I fell face first into the sand---blessedly cold, but two pairs of hands suddenly pulled me up by my shoulders. The bloodstained jacket I had on was torn directly into the middle, exposing my sweaty torso to the night air. Crickets and bullfrogs went off in the distance. My bare feet left trails against the sand as I was dragged forward. Someone was talking, their voice was echoey, sort of like they were shouting within a dark, empty cave. The world was stuck in so many blurry colors, like a demented painting.

* * * * * * *

Something was splashed against my face.

A coughing fit settled in my lungs, and saliva dripped from my parted mouth. I struggled to breathe, as more fluids were thrown upon me. The coldness was a shock to me as I peeled my swollen eyes open. My arms and legs were still restrained, and I couldn't push back the feeling of despair as I realized that there was more rope.

At least I was sitting upright.

"He's coming to. Should I try another go?"

"Hold on."

Blinking twice, I strained my neck to look up. A large puddle had gathered beneath me, where I was drenched head to toe. George was carelessly wielding a machete in one hand, smoking a corn pipe with the other while perched across a nearby stone. It didn't take me long to realize I was in a small cave, where the crashing of the waves could be heard from the distance, their foam seeping from between the rocks. Ki slowly lowered the wooden bucket in his hands, his red hair blowing in the wind. Covey was chewing tobacco, his jaw moving up and down. All three mens' eyes fell upon me, making my heart skip a beat.

The ropes fiercely bit into my skin.

"What part," George began, "of the phrase stay away do you not fully comprehend?" He took a step forward and placed the tip of the machete directly underneath my chin, grazing me. A faint drop of blood traveled down the side of my neck.

In the corner of my eye I could see Ki wincing.

Before I could fully register what was coming next, Covey's fist collided with my jaw, causing me to grunt. Both he and George threw a couple of more punches until my nose and face were sticky with blood and I could hardly see out of my puffy eyes. When they were done with me, they headed off into the sunrise, where the sky was pink and purple and blue and the tide had gradually lowered. I admired what lovely colors they were.

* * * * * * *

They made the red haired kid watch me.

By now, I knew that the Khonie were becoming more used to guns and pistols, most likely provided by those in Rufus' camp. But Ki looked terrified of them, like he couldn't wait to toss it out of his hands. He couldn't have been older than seventeen, and he came by early every morning, his own gun awkwardly pointed at me. He was a skinny guy, and his clothes looked too baggy on him---the red and white clay painted on his cheeks and bones betraying a certain aspect of himself. He didn't look like he could plow a straight row in a field to save his life, and his hands shook a great deal. I would pretend to be asleep most of the time so that he could relax a bit. And he did. Sometimes, he brought a basket he was weaving out of straw or carved out a small stone knife he carried on his waistband at all times. He was definitely a person who was good with his hands.

Yet I was grateful for having someone with me.

So after a couple of mornings, I had the courage to keep my eyes open but my head low, so that he didn't realize that I was observing him. He always sat as far as he could away from me, so it didn't seem apparent as first, as I easily sensed his discomfort. He often faintly hummed to himself, adding an elaborate design to a pair of shoes he was making out of deerskin, or lost in his craft.

One gray afternoon, I finally found my voice, which was quiet and raw. The kid's back was turned to me, as he was bent over, creating some sort of blanket from an animal hide. His eyes were focused on some sort of complicated but beautiful pattern that I didn't even know was possible to create. He paused to admire his handiwork.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"That's nice."

Ki immediately spun in my direction and grabbed the gun. He cocked it at my head. Gone were the peaceful look in his eyes, and his fingers hung over the trigger. His dark eyes narrowed, and once more; his arms were shaking. As he stood up, he nearly tripped, but regained his balance. I kept my head low, my eyes to the ground.

"What is it that you are making?"

"Shut up." It came out in a nervous tone.

So I did. For the next few days, I didn't say a word, although my stomach was caving in due to hunger. They gave me cold water and oysters, but my skin was starting to break out due to being trapped in a position for so long. Night came as quickly as the morning time did. The rain stopped.

"Hey," I whispered to him in the dark.

Silence. Only a small candle illuminated his silhouetted form, and his back was turned to me as usual. I took a deep breath, squirming under the tight ropes that were now etched deep into my skin. The pain was unbearable, but I refused to show it. I didn't need anyone to see it.

"I just want to talk to you. That's all, buddy."

Ki glanced at my direction. Once more, he began to reach for his gun.

"Please?"

Rage crossed his face.

With disgust, he began to rise from the rock he was sitting and made his way through the sea foam, wading through the waste deep stuff. As he struggled to make his way towards the entrance of the cave, the project he was working on slipped from his hands and fell into the water with a loud plop. Dismay fell upon his face. He lowered his shoulders in defeat. The water began to bubble and swirl.

Ki's eyes went wide. As I began to concentrate, the waves pulled back, revealing the damp sand. The satchel he had been working on was halfway buried in it, and he yanked it off the moist ground. The water came in with a crash, with the heavy waves that beat against the coral reefs as the pressure in my head subsided. Blood slowly escaped from my left nostril and dribbled directly onto my mouth.

He gaped at me. Cold winds were rushing through the dense cave. The satchel was soaking wet, dripping, covered in sea foam.

A small smile formed on my lips.

* * * * * * * *

The water causes the knots around the ropes to swell. By now I could hardly keep myself awake due to the lack of food and dehydration. When it rained, I held open my mouth to let the drops that seeped through the rocks and land on my tongue, to ease the burning flames deep within my throat.

And then, one by one, I saw the shadows of the people. They were huddled around the entrance of the cave, armed with shovels and buckets —Rufus must have provided them with such tools—murmuring amongst themselves. I attempted to keep awake as they began mix cement in these buckets, with piles of bricks and chunks of stone.

The men took breaks. George never kept his eyes off of me; his arms folded as he barked out orders. Inch by inch, they began building a wall that grew taller each day until the waves grew quieter and the air more humid. Too weak to make a sound, I had no choice but to watch the last bit of light from the outside disappear, trapping me within complete darkness and silence. Their shovels molded and shaped the wet concrete like thick clay. Their voices became muffled, very faint until—

there was nothing at all but the pitch black.

They had sealed me in.

It was a blessing in disguise. Baldwin had most likely discovered Mr. Karin’s body by now and was sending the entire fucking division down south. And for the first time in several months, an odd sensation—maybe peace, maybe relaxation, settled over me.

The ocean water that remained within gradually grew shallow until it reached my ankles. With the last remaining energy that I had, I viciously rubbed the ropes against a sharp rock, hoping to weaken the soft fibers. My skin caught against it, causing some mild bleeding. It began to fray, and I slowly freed myself, an agonizing pain rushing through my muscles and limbs.

Using the glowing blue light from my palm to see, I held my fingers out at the thick wall, before slamming a fist against it. Ice crystals spread outwards, forming various patterns on the surface. My throat grew tight—thick.

After several weeks, the dam that I had held back finally crumbled. The tears; the very ones I had fought away for so very long since Honda’s death, Rufus’s words that branded me like a hot iron, they seeped into my eyes, before slowly spilling down my cheeks and nose. They delicately landed on my ragged jacket. Like a gentle rain, they soothed the fire burning in my soul until it was extinguished and its ashes remained. I sobbed uncontrollably, sounding like laughter, my voice echoing in the empty cave, my lips parted in a smile that was not my own. They sent deep waves through my empty body, causing heat to rush through my fingertips and every hair on my body.

I knew that Rufus was not aware about our shared blood; but all that mattered to me was that my boy was safe. He was safe with the very same people who had every right to hate me because I had wrecked their lives. I no longer cared what others thought of me. I was going to build my boy a home. Rufus was a fool to believe that a mere gun could separate the two of us. But then again, I had always found him to be somewhat foolish.

And he owed me a great deal.

There was no choice but to face what was in front of me. My new throne. My sanctuary.

My son. I’ll give you the world.

Would I live above on the earth again? Feel the grass on my feet, or the sun on my face? I did not know. The rocks sheltered me from the world above. They protected people from me, and any soldier that dared step in here would have to answer to me. The caves were my territory. They belonged to me. The blue light shone from my own outstretched hands, illuminating the stone walls.

My kingdom.

Loneliness did not terrify me anymore.

I slowly lowered my arms, letting more tears silently escape down my face. It was a dark tunnel of emptiness leading to nowhere that I could claim. The air grew frigid, colder, but I hardly shivered. Strands of my matted hair fell over my face. A thick trail of ice formed underneath my path as the water in the air began to separate; float.

I walked forward.