The Byran

February 16, 2013
Today Byran hit me.
My teeth rattled and blood pooled in the crevice, and I ran to Marissa and cried as she put her arms around me and shouted at that inhuman beast. Stress has made us all unbelievably fragile, and our steps have become unsure and shaky.
Who would have thought we were starving two miles from home?! Marissa says we’ll be ok, that Martha will find us, but Cam’s ideas of how to build a fire are wearing thin, and there’s barely enough fish to go around. Marissa and I spend our days constructing shelter and flimsy boats that leak and from seaweed and branches. And Byran. Byran is a ruthless beast, but what can we do? He is stuck on this freezing, depressing, chunk of rock, like the rest of us. I secretly feel for him, without family, friends, nobody. At night, he scowls and sleeps under a tiny weakling of a tree. Me, Marissa, Cam huddle together and rock ourselves to sleep. They used to be my cousins; now they're my best friends.
When something goes through a life changing event, you would never have expected it to be being stuck on an island for months on end. But we all know, when we get out, if we get out, we'll never be the same. It hurts to think about it.
And what if, what if Marissa and Cam die?! What will Byran do to me?! He will beat me, that is sure. But food is scarce. Will he eat me?! Byran is such a monster. We are all stuck, and a pig headed insult is like a pat on the back compared to his usual statement.
We will be safe is summer, Marissa promises, cradling me. The tourists will take us home, and there will be more fish to catch. We will be back with Grammie and Papa. All will be well.
All will be well.
I love Marissa, but staring out at the gray-blue waves that trap us in, I am almost certain all will not be well. Byran will make sure of that. The cold, angry winter is snapping at our heels, and only the Good Lord himself can save us now.

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