The soft breeze tickled his ear and whispered to him sweet nothings.

     The fine white sand nestled against his body, cradling him as the steady sway of the sea lulled him into a feeling of tranqulity.

     Birds sang in bold harmonies and as the blood blossomed further across his torn tee he thought to himself 'it's a good day.'

     Soon he was going to be absolved of all earthly responsibility. Every problem, every fear, every pain trickled from him in glistening crimson streams that dyed the sand and turned it to scarlet.

     Scarlet as the last sunset he'd ever have seen.
     Scarlet as the roses that would be placed on his grave.
     Scarlet as the cheeks of everyone who'd realize they were wrong about him.
     Scarlet as...
     Scarlet.
     Poor little Scarlet.

     As sun fell to shadow he opened his eyes to be greeted by the sparkling night sky now, stars scattered as though a child had haphazardly thrown fistfuls of silver and blue glitter across black velvet.

     Twinkling...
     Shining...

     Why was he still here?

     He felt wet and cold. The blood that dried against his arm felt sticky, sand glued to his flesh. His stomach rolled with hunger and his sun-smitten skin felt as thought it'd been turned to leather. His hand slowly crawled its way to his abdomen and he idly fingered the tear in his shirt in search of the wound, slick with half-dried and congealing blood. A shaky exhale escaped him.

     Why was he still here?

     He pushed himself up with a pained grunt, every muscle and joint stiff. How many hours had he laid here? Had anyone noticed he was gone..?

     Why would anyone notice?
     There was no one here.

     As he pushed himself into a standing position there came a loud pop and his right knee gave way. He fell with a sharp cry, catching himself with his hands, and as he glanced at his leg he saw the knee had twisted itself strangely. He'd forgotten about that.

     Perhaps he deserved this pain.
     With a shake of his head he sat back to examine the damage. A rustle sounded from the foliage nearby though he ignored it, already aware of who was coming. A small, ashen face emerged from the underbrush, cheeks smeared with mud and round emerald green eyes wide with worry.

     "Avery!"
     The girl fought her way through the snagging thicket and raced across the beach to him, twigs and leaves making themselves at home in her bird's nest of auburn. Her pudgy arms bled from thin scratches along her bicep, her bare feet blistered and caked with filth, though she paid none of it any mind as she dropped to her knees and practically slid across the sand to his side. She grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away from his leg as demandingly she hissed "let me see!"
     "It's fine, it's not that bad."

     "Your leg is hurt! And you're bleeding!"
     "I'm not bleeding anymore," he murmured, thumbing at the stained shirt.

     "I'll help you get up. We have to get you to home!"

     "I don't want go home."

     "You can't just leave it like that!" She pulled his arm over her shoulders and with a grunt of effort hoisted him to his feet, flinching at his wince. "Does it hurt a lot..?"

     "No," he lied, though not that it mattered.

     None of this mattered.

     She didn't matter.
     She adjusted her grip on him as she began to half drag him back towards the trees. "You'll be okay. I promise."
     His dark-eyed gaze stayed fixed on the ground as he simply let her drag him. Her words were almost meaningless. Of course he'd be okay. He always was. She wasn't aware of that, was she? Did any of them know? Did they even remember?
     It felt like it'd been years since it happened. Maybe even centuries for all he knew. Time passed in this place and it never seemed to go anywhere. The days became more and more blurred, his heart heavier and heavier until it dragged with his feet in the sand. He didn't understand why she was here. Did he call for her in his haze? He didn't remember. Perhaps he did. Some part of him still needed her.
     He became heavier in her arms as he felt his consciousness begin to slip away from him again, leg starting to burn with a searing pain that only now crept into his body. She stumbled and strained to keep him upright, holding his wrist tighter.

     "Just a little further! Don't leave me!" she told him as they approached the bright white light of the house.

     Brighter.

     Brighter.

     Brighter still.

     He lifted his head, squinting as he lifted a hand to shield his face.

     A flashlight shone down at him.

     The light was blinding in his eyes.
     The crackles of radios and chatter of workmen exchanged excited exclamations. 

     The sharp, dark rubble pressed into his body, trapping his leg as the shrieking of sirens forced his sluggish mind awake.

     The air was thick with grief and as the blood blossomed further along his torn tee someone shouted "I found a survivor!"