Surviving Us Read Online Free

anyone’s face; pity is the last thing I’ve ever wanted. Before I go find a taxi, I need to apologize to him.
    He’s sorting through a pile of black luggage when I locate him, and as I approach him, he grabs one and lifts it into the air with an “Aha!”
    “Found it, eh?” I ask, my words an olive branch of sorts.
    His head snaps in my direction and he nods. “Yeah, you get yours?”
    “Yep,” I tilt my head downwards, “I guess I gotta find a ride now.” People are still milling around us, searching through the luggage, asking if anyone works here, and the level of disgruntled confusion is rapidly growing by the minute.
    The gap between us is eaten up in two of his lengthy paces, and before I know it, he’s right up in my personal space again. “I told you I’d help you get there; it’ll definitely be safer for both of us to travel together. You don’t need to be going anywhere on this island alone. Okay?”
    “Okay,” I agree, unsure why he keeps mentioning safety. I read up on the island quite a bit in the months leading up to the trip, and everything I read was positive, saying how nice the locals were and how they couldn’t wait to come back. “Which way should we go? Not that there are a lot of options.” I laugh nervously, glancing around the open space as I think about spending an extended period of time in a car with this guy whose name I still don’t know, and whom I am finding more captivating by the moment.
    He tips his head towards the opposite way in which we entered. “Over there, I think.” I grab hold of my bags, thankful they’re both on wheels, and roll them behind me as I follow his lead. The good news is he was right about where to go; the bad news is it’s a freaking madhouse of disorganized activity when we get there.
    People are shouting, running around, and trying to make phone calls everywhere I look. The pandemonium is unsettling. I’m not sure who to talk to or where to go. I just want to get to my resort.
    “Stay right here. Do not move for any reason. I’m leaving my stuff here with you and I’m going to arrange a car for us.” His voice is firm and commanding, but surprisingly soothing to my nerves.
    With not much of an option, I nod and wait for him, watching as he works his way through the crowd and talks to a black man dressed in solid white from head to toe. They shake hands before he heads back over to me, leaving me alone for less than five minutes.
    “That guy’s gonna grab his car from the lot and come pick us up,” he explains.
    “Awesome. Thank you, uh . . .” I snicker at the absurdity of this all, “I don’t even know your name. Sorry I haven’t asked yet; this has been a little overwhelming today . . . first flight ever, wrong airport, crazy swingers on the plane, and all.”
    “No apology needed. You can call me D, Bristol , and yes,” he chuckles, “I was eavesdropping on your interesting plane conversation, so I know your name.”
    A small, white car pulls up across from where we’re standing, and the man giving us a ride climbs out of the driver’s seat, motioning for us to come over. Before D steps off the curb towards the car, he smiles apologetically and squeezes my hand.
    “I’m sorry for the comment about your mom earlier; it was very disrespectful of me,” he says softly. “It’s true, I’m usually a dick, but I should’ve known better.”
    “How could you have known?” I ask puzzled.
    Freeing my hand, a wave of sadness washes across his face. “I’m staying at Ti Kaye too.” He picks up his bags, turns around, and starts walking away as the realization slaps me hard across the face and my mind begins to race.
    He’s like me.
    He’s a survivor too.



AS BRISTOL HURRIES OVER to the car where I’m lifting my suitcases into the compact trunk, I see the acknowledgement light up her eyes and questions form in her mind. Now she knows what I am, but still not who I am. Though there’s a good chance even if I told her