Day 1

So it looks like Caitlin’s dad was right—I won’t live to see 40. I suppose you’ve gotta give credit where it’s due.

Although, in fairness, that prick thought I’d wind up flatlining under a bridge with a needle sticking out of my ass, not stranded on a desert island.

Anyway, my names George, and this is my diary. I always thought these things were a bit stupid and pointless (still do) but Catlin’s asleep and I’ve run out of pebbles to skip across the water, so here’s the story so far…

Once the tide rolled in the boat drifted off and sank. Cat and I escaped by jumping overboard, but she landed badly on a rock, now her left ankle is an ugly purple bruise. She keeps insisting it doesn’t hurt all that much, but this is a woman who could look on the bright side of a black hole, so take that for what it’s worth.

I salvaged some supplies from the wreckage, including a water bottle, the food we brought along (crackers, cheese, a pineapple, three bananas, some beef jerky), a knife, this little notebook, binoculars, and a flashlight. I also held onto Caitlin’s gift, although I can’t say more about that in case she reads this later (which if you are, Angelface, sorry for ruining your 31st birthday).

Earlier, I joked about having the beach to ourselves, and how romantic the sunset looked. Caitlin half-laughed half-sobbed. I can tell she’s anxious the rescue mission might take a while since it’s unlikely anybody even realizes we’re missing yet. Call that karma for using her parent's summerhouse without permission.

So far, the weather’s great. Not too hot, not too cold. It’s the perfect time of year to get shipwrecked, I guess.

At low tide, red and orange crabs swarmed over the seaweed-covered rocks in the bay, but they scurried into the water whenever I got too close. The yappy seabirds are way too fast to catch as well. Still, if we’re careful we can stretch out our supplies to last a week or so. I think. I mean, I’m no Bear Grylls, but that’s how it looks.

The island doesn’t seem all that big, although it’s hard to tell because there’s trees and valleys everywhere. Tomorrow the plan is for me to head inland and see how ‘alone’ we really are. If I get lost, I’ll walk until I hit the coast and follow it back here. It’s like keeping one hand against a maze wall. Best case scenario, there’s other people around—maybe a lighthouse keeper or an eccentric billionaire who owns the place. If not, fingers crossed some passing fishermen spot Caitlin.

Anyway, that’s all for now. Ciao.

--

Day 2

Okay, so there’s some crappy news, some AMAZING news, and some seriously, seriously shitty news. First the crappy news…

The islands bigger than I thought. And theres bushes, ferns, and tall grass everywhere, which means it’s impossible to take more than twenty steps in a single direction.

Out East, I found a rocky mound. It was eighty foot high and fairly steep but there were exposed roots and boulders I could use for grip, which meant I reached the summit before dusk.

That leads us onto the amazing news…

Up there, I looked around through the binoculars and spotted a shack and a rowboat on the southern side of the island, way in the distance. They’re on a narrow stretch of beach surrounded by a cove.

The problem is, navigating the islands gonna be tricky. To cross it we’ll need to march through a dense forest with bald patches covered in bumpy hilltops. Solo, I could make the journey in a day. I think.

When Cat heard the news, she jumped up then grimaced while holding her ankle. Because of the limited supplies, time is against us. She suggested I go solo then, if the shacks unoccupied, row the boat around to collect her (without slamming into a rock this time), although I’m against this suggestion for two reasons.

Number one: that would mean splitting the supplies. And we’ve only got one water bottle.

Number two is the shitty news…

There’s three crucifixes planted beside the shack, spaced out in the sand. That feels like an excessive amount. What if some recluse started a cult out here where they could perform crazy ritual sacrifices? Hell, maybe those crosses mark the graves of previous castaways…

Part of me thinks we might not want to meet this individual (or individuals). That said, the alternative is dying of a painful thirst and getting our eyeballs pecked out by gulls. I suppose it’s possible whoever built the place is long gone, although I doubt they’d have left their boat in that case.

Cat got me laughing a while back. My hands look like they’ve gone through a paper shredder because of the climb, which set her off grumbling about infections. I pointed at her inflated ankle and said I’d be a real asshole if I cried about some measly cuts. She’s always been like that—more concerned about others than herself.

Now I think about it, she’s in a weirdly upbeat mood. Even for her. She keeps joking about how we might wanna stay lost rather than have her dad find out what happened. It’s better than her writhing around in agony, I guess.

Since she looked drained, I let her rest her ankle on my lap while I massaged her shoulders. I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t enjoy being her guardian angel for a change.

Anyway, that’ll do for now. Adios.

--

Day 2 entry 2

Angelface found her gift while I was off exploring. That’s why she kept making jokes—she knows her Dad’s gonna have a stroke when he finds out I sunk his precious boat AND proposed to his daughter in the same week.

She slipped the ring back into the bag, but she couldn’t have been more obvious if she grew a tail and started wagging it. She says the rings perfect, which came as a relief (I can picture her dad casually mentioning the one he bought his wife cost £25,000).

To celebrate our engagement, I went and picked some pink wildflowers. Afterwards, we had beef jerky, followed by pineapple chunks. To cap the evening off, we lay down and held each other. The warmth of her body felt nice.

This is so typical me: I get engaged to the most beautiful woman on the planet days before deranged cultists carve out my intestines.

I shouldn’t make those kinda jokes. Think positive, George.

Au Revoir.

--

Day 3

Last night Caitlin heard a twig snap from out in the forest. She grabbed the flashlight but anytime she pointed the beam we only saw branches shake and dip. Neither of us moved or said a single word, just listened to the hypnotic ocean waves. Then, right as my eyelids drooped shut, Cat shrieked.

She insisted a tiny pair of arms wrapped around a trunk like somebody was hugging it from behind. For the next few hours, every minor sound—even just the whistling wind—made her yelp and waste more battery power searching the spaces between trees.

At dawn, I suggested a boar maybe picked up the scent of jerky and came sniffing around, and soon Caitlin had a purple face to match her ankle. She accused me of calling her delusional (which I didn’t).

Since our stomachs wouldn’t quit grumbling, we finished the leftover jerky and washed it down with some water. Unfortunately, my blistered hands couldn’t hold onto the stupid bottle, so a portion of our reserve leaked into the sand, which made Cat snap and say her dad was right about me.

We tested whether she could walk alone. She barely managed ten steps in the sand, which means the islands gonna be borderline impossible. Problem is, my strengths dipping every day, the supplies are dangerously low, and unless the (potential) cult leader is both real and friendly, I’ll need to haul Cat through the forest AND THEN paddle us both to the mainland.

Oh, I almost forgot: she INSISTED we waste even MORE energy by relocating to the far side of the bay. There’s a ridge against our backs here. After I laid out our supplies on a flat patch of rock, Cat apologised for her earlier jab. We kissed and made up and agreed we’ll set off tomorrow, no matter what. Fingers crossed a single banana and some cheese keeps me fuelled up.

All we can do now is wait…

--

Day 4

It came back. Sometime after dark Caitlin pointed out a glowing set of eyes moving between trees. They slipped out of view when I shouted whos there.

Wood snapped, then the moonlight shining through the branches blacked out as something swooped from left to right. Caitlin screamed. I pointed the beam but only saw leaves floating down.

To preserve the battery, I only used the flashlight whenever we heard or spotted movement. Each time I flicked the switch twigs snapped, or footsteps trampled through dead leaves. This went on and on. By dawn, it felt like I’d doused my eyes with salt water.

My parched throat still aches from the big blowout Caitlin and I had about how much of the last banana I was eating. She only shut up when I told her she could have more if she carried herself.

Our remaining supplies got crammed inside the pack. Together, they weigh between 10 and 15 pounds, which feels like a lot when you haven’t had a proper meal in almost a week.

Even though I only half-carried half-hugged her royal heinous, it felt like hauling a boulder around on my shoulders. At one point I mentioned this and she shoved me away, and since then, she’s only answered my questions with childish, one-word responses.

Further inland, the ground got bumpy. Those hills weren’t steep, but they never ended. The amount of time we wasted catching our breaths is ridiculous. Every bird taking off made us jump. Also, we tripped on EVERY fucking tree root then we’d waste time fighting. Again.

We pushed on until my leg muscles started spasming then stopped inside a ring of trees. There’s crisscrossed branches everywhere plus a gap in the canopy.

I napped so I can keep watch all night. If that thing followed us here we’re fucked.

Dad, if you’re reading this: sorry for being such a shit before. I always meant to repay your love and kindness when I started doing better financially.

(P.S. you were right. I SHOULD have stayed in school)

--

Day 6 (I think)

We’re fucked. Last night that thing slipped between trees and bushes. I grabbed the knife and went over and kicked one but nothing happened. I waited a while. Then Caitlin screamed. There was glowing eyes above her in the canopy. The thing dropped on her and bit her. It looked pale and thin and small like a child. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl. Its clothes were old and its skin peeled when I grabbed its head. There’s still wet chunks under my fingernails. It’s smells horrible.

The creature was small but strong. My feet lifted in the air as I stabbed it in the face and neck. Its lip was all sideways. I got it in the chest before it threw me off. I thought I landed on a stick but the snap was my ribs. Breathing isn’t easy now. The thing hissed like a snake. It’s teeth looked like needles. Or a porcupine. It ran off on all fours with the knife sticking out. Caitlins thigh looks like minced beef. Black veins are showing through. I put bandages on and she said it burns and kept swatting my hand away and calling me a useless fuck.

After a while she said sorry. I told her sorry for fucking up our lives. I told her her dad was right. She said no her dads a prick. We both laughed. Then she spat out a tooth.

I fucking love her so much. She needs a doctor. I didn’t tell her carrying her makes it hard to breathe now. I found a blood trail and the knife. It was in a patch of red flat grass. I’m not sure if that’s good. The thing looked like a child. What if its parents live at the shack? We might be fucked. I’m a murderer. I carried her south until my feet hurt. Now we’re resting. A few minutes ago she spat out another tooth. The boat can’t be much further. I want to sleep but can’t in case Caitlin gets bad so I’ll write instead.

She keeps talking about how we met. I remember it well. She found me overdosing in an alley and shook me awake and said the ambulance was coming. I could only make out her pretty features and copper hair. I was so fucked up I thought I was dead. I kept asking if she was an angel and telling her she looked like one.

She STILL looks like one.

--

Day ??

We found the shack. No one lives here. There’s water. Also jarred fruits. I ate and drank but I’m afraid to sleep. Caitlin might die. Theres way more crucifixes but theyd all broken because the rope rotten so they’re bundles of sticks really. Caitlin is on the beach. She’s pale and sweaty and doesn’t want the heat. Wont come inside either. Thrashes around whenever I try. Also, she’s spitting teeth. Lots. Her lips are flaky. She keeps complaining about how thirsty she is. I give her water but she couldn’t keep it down. Second time she grabbed the ring off her finger and told me to stick it up my ass because its cheap and shit. Whoever built this place is gone. All I found were framed photos of a man in glasses and a girl. Maybe his daughter. She looks about seven maybe eight. And I killed her maybe. There was so much blood.

Soon we’re casting off.

--

I fell asleep after the last entry. When I woke up Caitlin had vanished. A sand trail led me South. I found her in a cave in the shadows. She was standing around like she never hurt herself. Kept saying she felt fine. Except she looked pale and washed out and her lips were all cracked. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like how she kept asking me to come inside the cave. Her voice sounded different.

I went forward slowly. When we were close she grinned. Now I could see her eyes. They looked silver. And glowy. The second I stopped she hissed. Her teeth were sharp. I ran back here to the shack. It’s getting dark so I can’t cast off. Too risky. This is so fucked. Why is she better? How?

--

Caitlin keeps knocking the door. Asking if she can come in. I’m too afraid to answer. She keeps pawing at the walls and saying she’s thirsty. And asking if I remember how we met.

--

Caitlin’s on the roof. I can hear footsteps. She wants me to let her in. Before she asked nice but now shes screaming. She says I deserve to die for getting us stranded. She said she helped me through my relapses and got me clean and she didn’t list to her dad saying to leave me and I’m a terrible selfish person and she’s right. I can’t stop crying. This is so fucked.

--

Those silver eyes are watching me from a gap between boards. Cat still wants me to go outside. She keeps talking about how much she loves me. Says if I love her I’ll go outside. Now she’s crying because the thirst hurts. I love her but I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared.

--

This will be my last entry. Caitlin went back to the cave before dawn, then I accidentally slept leaning against the door. When I finally went out to look around there were silver eyes watching me from the cave.

The mainland isn’t far. I’m casting off. If you find this I’m sorry I killed the girl. And I’m sorry I left Caitlin. I can’t believe this is how I repay her for everything. I'm the biggest piece of shit on Earth. Angelface I’m sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Please someone rescue her. It might not be too late. Also bury the little girl.

--

Day 1 (since rescue)

Writing this down is a terrible idea, but I need to get my thoughts straight.

After the last entry, I pushed the boat out to sea and paddled East. Every stroke felt like a branding iron between my ribs. The marina drifted into view around midday and then a yacht came speeding toward me. I waved it down, relieved, only to discover Cat’s dad was the skipper. I almost hurled myself overboard.

He hauled me up onto the yacht and drove his forearm into my throat, pinning me against the cockpit. It’s a miracle he didn’t suffocate me.

While I gasped for air, my vision all blurred, he explained how he’d called his daughter to wish her a happy birthday one-week ago, and when neither she nor her ‘junkie boyfriend’ answered their phones, he panicked. Three days later, when a neighbour called to say his boat had disappeared, he put two-and-two together.

Since the coast guard were a shower of useless bastards (his words), he launched a one-man search operation.

With his story told, he eased some pressure so that I could answer one question: where’s Caitlin?

When I begged for water, he drove his knee into my stomach. Breathless, I lay in the foetal position and explained how we capsized, and that I needed to leave a weakened Cat behind to go summon help. If not for my feeble condition, he probably wouldn’t have accepted such vague answers. Luckily, his concern for his daughter blinded him.

He let me devour chicken sandwiches and orange juice while we sailed back to the island, although I think that was more so I didn’t die of starvation before guiding the way.

By the time we arrived, it was late afternoon. Glowing eyes watched us approach from inside the cave. I pointed feebly and said Caitlin was in there. Her dad pulled up as close as possible and insisted I go with him, probably so I couldn’t leave him behind to die.

We climbed overboard, into the water, and past the beach. When I refused to cross the mouth of the cave, the bastard grabbed me by the throat—again. I caught him off guard with a headbutt, then blood gushed from his nostrils.

A knee slammed into my chest, then two kicks to the mid-section made me fall flat on the ground clutching my burning ribs. If my future father-in-law hadn’t spotted Caitlin lurking in the shadows, I’d probably be dead right now.

He rushed forward crying out for his baby girl, who flew straight at his chest the instant he charged beyond the light. She pinned him down, her needle-like fangs bared, then tore chunks of flesh of his neck. The anguished half-gurgle half-scream almost most made me feel sorry for the guy. Almost.

Caitlin stood wiping blood off her mouth. Despite the red stains, she looked more like the woman I fell in love with. Less gaunt and washed out than before. She sounded like her old self, too. That sharp edge that crept into her voice after the attack had vanished.

Fighting back the tears, she looked over at me and asked if she was a monster. My eyes flicked toward her father’s remains, which were basically a withered husk by that point, before I held her in my arms and said no.

She kept begging for forgiveness. Said she couldn’t help the way she came after me before—that her craving took over. A painful thirst, she kept calling it.

I caressed the back of her skull, whispering this didn’t change anything.

Because the sunlight stung, Caitlin refused to come with me on the boat. I searched the shack for a white scarf and wrapped it around her skull leaving a narrow slit for the eyes, but before we even got knee-deep in the ocean, the scarf bloomed pink. Caitlin’s hands tightened into fists as fresh blood ran down her neck, and then she scrambled for the safety of the beach.

She kept insisting being in the water felt ‘wrong’. She said that when I led her towards the cabin, too, until I invited her inside where she unwrapped her head.

Beneath the scarf, her delicate features looked more beautiful than ever. Crusted blood and all.

We held each other, sobbing, until there were no tears left. Then, after we talked over our predicament, I set sail for the mainland to figure things out.

At the marina, my dishevelled appearance received some funny looks from other sailors, although nobody said anything. No doubt people are asking questions, though.

Now I’m at Cat’s parents’ summerhouse. I slept in her father’s bed, grilled myself a steak in his kitchen, and even drank his fancy, imported beer. Apart from the aching ribs, I’m feeling world’s better now.

Caitlin’s gonna need fresh meat. Or a blood bank, whatever you wanna call it. I haven’t decided my next move yet, but no matter what I’m won't abandon her. Not after everything she’s done for me. Whatever else happens, I’m sticking with my guardian angel.

Cat, I love you. I’ll always love you. And we’re gonna figure this mess out together.

No matter what.