I struggled to open my eyes too and the pang of hope wilted away in an instant. My body wanted to give up, because I was feeling weak and nature was disowning me. I wouldn't be able to defeat this battle. I've always lived right, and treated people fairly, amid being dealt a few shitty cards in life. I've treated my friends and family with respect and pay my tithes. Regrettably, I missed a few Sundays at church and maybe that's why God was punishing me now.
Then suddenly, there was light in the darkness. It was small at first and barely visible through the rain and the waves, but it was there and my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. I tried swimming towards it as the light was getting closer, but everything was cold, dark and wet and I was so fucking tired of swimming, that I wanted to give up, but I couldn't stop.
The sky was pitch black now, the only illumination coming from that single light cutting through the storm. As it got closer, I realized what it was. It was the same boat that had brought me to the island a week ago. The white hull, the blue trim, the covered cabin. I recognized it even in the darkness, and the relief that flooded through me was so intense it made me sob.
I tried to call out, but my voice was lost in the wind and the thunder. I waved my arms, but I wasn't sure if anyone could see me in the dark water. The boat was getting closer, but not fast enough. I was sinking and I felt my body giving up and my muscles refused to work anymore, but then in the blink of an eye, something flew through the air toward me.
It was a life buoy. The loud orange color, outlined in white, attached to a rope, landed in the water just a few feet away.
I lunged for it and closed my fingers around the hard plastic and held on with every ounce of strength I had left. The rope went taut and I felt myself being pulled through the water as the waves still battered me but were no longer dragging me under. I couldn't see who'd thrown it, because my vision was too blurry to make out anything clear. The only thing I could make out was the life buoy and the boat looming over me.
When I reached the side of the boat, hands grabbed me out of the water, with strong force. It was multiple sets lifting me out of the water with a strength I didn't have anymore. Feeling myself being hauled over the side, I felt the hard deck beneath me as I collapsed, coughing up sea water as my whole body violently shook.
"Get her inside, now!" Someone shouted over the storm. "Get her warm!"
I was lifted again, carried into the covered cabin, and laid down on one of the benches. Someone wrapped a blanket around me, but I was shaking too hard to hold it closed. My teeth were chattering so violently I thought they might crack.
Everything was happening so fast and people were moving so rapidly that I couldn't comprehend anything that was going on around me. All I know is I was saved and no longer in the water under the treacherous storm.
"Get her a motherfuckin' heated blanket nigga! The fuck is wrong wit' you! Do you have a sausage for a brain or 'sum!" I heard a familiar voice snap.
Then I smelled the intoxicating scent that always made my willpower weak and dizzy. My breathing had labored and I was in and out of it, but that woodsy scent wafting through my nostrils was bringing me back to life, doing more than anybody else around me could do.
I forced my eyes open and saw him kneeling beside me, kissing the side of my face with that masculine scent, with hints of bergamot and leather. It was an unmistakable statement that belonged to him.
"Nyne," he called out to me, while palming my face gently.
His face held so much worry as he ran his eyes over my body checking for injuries. The captain was there too, steering the boat back towards the island, but all I could do was focus on Syx.
He came for me, and he saved me.
"You're okay." He spoke, his voice was rough and urgent. "I got you baby. You're safe now."
I tried to speak, but all that came out was another cough and more seawater spilling from my mouth. Syx turned me on my side, supporting me as I emptied my lungs as he rubbed circles on my back.
"That's it baby." He murmured. "Get it all out. You're safe with me now. I've got you."
The storm raged outside, jump scaring me, but Syx wrapping his arms around me gave me comfort and warmth. As the boat rocked violently back to shore, Syx remained beside me, surrounding me with his scent, pouring life back into me and I stopped trying to fight it by releasing a few deep breaths and whispering my decision groggily in his ear, for only him to hear.
Chapter Nine
The boat docked at what looked like a small medical facility on the far side of the island—a place I hadn't even known existed. The building was modern, with all white walls and glass, with a red cross painted on the side. Through the haze of exhaustion and cold, I could see people in scrubs rushing towards us.
"We have a near-drowning," the captain was saying into the radio. "Female, maybe in her early thirties, was underwater for approximately two to three minutes. She's conscious and responsive but showing signs of hypothermia."
Syx carried me off the boat himself, refusing to let the paramedics take me. I wanted to protest and tell him I could walk, but my legs felt like jelly and my chest hurt with every breath. So I let him carry me with my face pressed against his neck, breathing in that familiar scent of bergamot, leather, and something uniquely him.
Inside, the medical facility was small but well-equipped. They laid me on a gurney and suddenly there were hands everywhere as they checked my pulse, shining lights in my eyes and pressed a stethoscope to my chest.
"Deep breath," a woman's voice said. I tried to comply, but my lungs felt tight and heavy, like they were filled with concrete instead of air.
"Crackling in the lower left lobe," the doctor said to someone else. "Possible aspiration. We need a chest X-ray and blood work now. Start her on oxygen and get her core temperature up."
"Wait," I said, my voice hoarse and weak at this point. "Wait, I don't—I can't afford to?—"
"Ms. Nyne, you need to stay calm," the doctor said. She was a Black woman in her fifties with kind eyes and graying locs pulled back in a bun. "You've been in a traumatic event. We need to monitor you for at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours to make sure there's no secondary drowning or pneumonia developing."
"Secondary drowning?" My voice shrieked and my heart rate spiked and I could hear the beeping of the monitor they attached to my finger. "What does that mean?"
