Whoosh. Crash. Whirl. Grind. Swoosh. Lying on that beach, it was the only sounds I could hear. Somewhere in my mind, the screams of agony were not distinguished. I was terrified, of what exactly I would see when I opened my eyes. It was a feeling of pure shock. Something you hear people talk about, image that you understand how they feel, but really never experienced. At the moment, there was no words, with no definitions, that could describe that thirty seconds of fear of vision.
I felt the sun on my face, I felt the waves at my toes, and I felt the sand beneath me. This sounds just like great day at the beach, but believe me, far from it. I was going to have a great time at the beach, but I guess we hit some kind of detour, obviously.
My eyes finally snapped open as something (or someone) stirred next to me. Coughing and sputtering out the salt water. I looked over, even though the pain in my head told me not to. It was the quiet man, who had sat next to me on flight 628.
He was the quiet sort, and I knew that the moment he sat down next to me. I introduced myself as "Virginia Lowell, but my friends all call me Ginny." I had always been a friendly person, and I didn't understand why it was weird to introduce myself to someone who I would be sitting next to for the next 9 hours. Little did I know, I would be stranded on a deserted island with him for the next few months.
He gave me a funny little smile, almost in spite of himself. I saw his eyes flicker to my bright red hair, and I saw in his eyes that he wasn't going to judge me. He gave me a small nod, and returned with a "Charles Mony, but my friends all call me Charlie."
Coming down the isle, the flight attendant paused to ask the standard questions. Do you need anything? A pillow maybe? How about a drink? Charlie had looked thoughtful for a moment before he replied asking for a little wine. He had turned and asked if there was anything I wanted, but I refused. It was only 6 a.m., so I didn't really plan to be touching the alcohol just yet. But I got something much worse then a hangover, later that day.

I tried to sit up, or at least that was my brain was screaming at the other parts of my body. I was still too shocked to do anything, just stare as Charlie spat, and sputtered. I finally got my arm to function, and reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched, and drew back quickly. I saw his eyes slowly adjust to the light, and him move his head to see me.

He muttered something, and I just gave him a questioning stare. He opened his mouth wider this time, and exaggerated his volume of voice. "HELLO RED…".
I just starred at him, dumbfounded. I shifted my eyes around looking for help, but everyone was doing the same exact thing. Search for help, that they might never find. Searching for civilization, that they might never find. Searching for hope, but it seemed to have walked out the door.