Short Story: The Coast
The Coast The cold sea air bites at my face. Around me is pitch black, even the moon hasn’t shown its face tonight. I can hear the rushing of the waves, sometimes even feel them nipping at my ankles, but I cannot see them. My body does not want to cooperate but still I drag myself forward, I know I cannot stop. Every few steps I have to stop and double over, press my arms tighter to my abdomen, and try to ignore the slickness of my own blood. I need to get out, I need to find help, but I’m just so tired. Maybe if I just lay down someone will find me in the morning, I can’t see a thing anyway, maybe I’ll just rest for a little, just until the sun peeks over the horizon. ----- “Hannah!” I call out, “Are you almost ready to go?” “Almost!” she replies from inside the house. I tuck my shoulder-length hair behind my ears, a nervous habit I’ve picked up recently. It’s our fifth anniversary, Hannah and I. Hannah had booked us a cabin by the beach. I grip the steering wh...