although he would not tell you why initially

[attitude]

Lately, I've been measuring life in weeks, dictated by the volumes that I pull off of the bookshelf, slowly feeling myself fall into greater unease as they pass and my footfalls grow heavier. Sometimes, it feels as though all I ever do is wander towards the rec room, impressed by the fact that I only have so many weeks to try and learn what it means to be a caretaker, a guardian, a parent. A few weeks ago, I finally came to accept that as my greatest priority, one that I didn't want to think of with any amount of fear or trepidation. Parenting's hard enough without living in fear of it.

Mostly, I've managed. I know what I should be eating, I know how much to sleep, I know what changes to expect from my body for the next month, almost down to the day. Before I lost everything, studying was never a problem, and I guess some things never change.

It's the rest that I feel passing me in a blur. Hiding while the island forgot itself. Warily watching as people find themselves seized by fear at various points in the day. I haven't decided how to tackle any of that just yet. I find myself avoiding the very thought of it, running away as I always do, spending a couple hours swimming every day instead, enjoying the way the water buoys me up, almost lets me forget.

My feet sink awkwardly into the sand, balance still imperfect as I head to shore after my swim today, hair dripping all over the place and a towel hastily wrapped around my middle.

It's just another day, I tell myself.

Comments

[manwithoutfear]

"Do you know anyone affected?" I ask, wondering if I don't already know the answer to my own question. It's not that I haven't been susceptible to this place's tricks in the past (I don't think of myself as invulnerable), but the nature of what's looming over us rubs me the wrong way. My senses aren't what they used to be. I've spent over a year maligning this fact. But to have them toyed with like this... It calls to mind enemies I thought I'd long left behind.

[attitude]

"I'm not close to anyone who's outright told me that they're experiencing nightmares," I tell him, glancing up at the sky with a smile. "But with the kind of people I keep with, that really doesn't mean much. I know that... Dean has regular nightmares. I know that things have been hard on him these few months, that I haven't made them any easier. How am I to know if they're nightmares being brought by the island?" Licking my lower lip, I look back his way.

"You?"

[manwithoutfear]

I have to wonder if everyone who gets stuck here long enough goes through a period of cabin fever. I know that magic exists. I've been victim to the supernatural as often as I have the scientific, yet my mind always searches for the more rational explanation -- even now when the evidence all but leads to the mystical.

"I'm not sure," I say, which as close to the truth as I'm willing to get. "Do you know what his nightmares are about?"

[attitude]

"Demons, I guess," I say quietly, a small gasp slipping from my lips as the baby starts to shift around in my belly, pressing down somewhere close to my bladder. Not the most comfortable move in the world. "Settle down," I breathe quietly, smoothing a hand over my belly and letting it drag in a large circle as I pull focus.

"His mother was killed when he was really young, and he's been... chasing and chased alike by those demons and monsters. I don't ask him for too many of the details," I muse. "Seems like it'd create more trouble than it'd help."