Its been about three days. I was aboard a luxury cruiser when a terrible storm hit. The storm ripped through the metal hull like paper. I've been adrift ever since it happened. Its been about three days.
The sun is hot and it stings my eyes. My skin is beet red as the sun burns it. I am hungry, and my throat is dry and rough, like sandpaper. I do not think of rescue.
There are others around me. Some are dead, and some have drifted away. Some moan and cry out for help. Some weep helplessly. My throat hurts. So I cannot cry out. The salt has long ago dried out my eyes, so I cannot cry.
Its been about two days since the sharks came. The water around me has ran thick with blood. I would guess, to begin with, there were about fifteen of us. Now there are only eight.
One of them bit me other day. They took a hold of my foot and tugged me under. I did not resist at first. I did not have the strength. I managed to bring my free leg up and slam the beast on the nose with my foot. It scurried away, taking my foot with it.
I drifted to the surface. I wanted to cry out in agony, but all I could manage was a hoarse cough. The waters grew darker with my blood, and the salty water stung at my wound.
I drifted there for another two days. Now only two of us remained. The other was a young boy. He went under a moment ago. He hasn't been up since.
I finally accept my fate. With salt in my eyes use what little of my strength I have left to push myself beneath the surface of the water. I push myself through the cloud of blood and into the depths of the blue. Sharks were all around me.
I open my mouth and breathe in deeply through my mouth and nostrils. In an instant, everything goes dark.
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