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The dull throb of the bruises on his face was the only thing that could be felt over the wind.

He’d placed the Jackhammer down to the ground next to him. His hand had gone up to his chin. His jaw. He was pressing it. Feeling the dull sensation of pain all across his bone as he did. These were bruises, yeah. He didn’t imagine he’d need to see a mirror somewhere on this island in order to confirm that. When he’d gotten some of them on his arms back when he was a kid they tended to last… three, four days? That was a number that seemed about right. Sometimes they’d just appear on his arm and he’d just try to ignore them and not touch them until they went away. He wasn’t quite sure whether that strategy would work here though. No showers. No fresh running water. No guarantee of a comfortable bed.

...Did bruises get infected? He hoped not. Having an infection on his face would probably suck.

He placed the baseball bat down as well. Lifted up his left hand. Brought it near his eye and pressed. Yep. Same feeling, and-


With a gun.

Pointed straight at him.

He lifted his hands up into the air. He’d thought about it for a bit. Fighting probably wasn’t the best idea here. He had to talk, probably. Do something to make her not feel like shooting him. That was doable. Alba was…

Alba was…

Alba was…


A girl.

Shit, uh…

“Don’t worry. I mean no harm.”
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If You Don’t Like What We Say, Try Living Here A Couple Days · The Connecting Bridge