survivor's guilt · gentle giant · ancient greece · mythological · starvation · self-loathing · brother-in-law · tragic · second-in-command · fragile
Consciousness returns as a slow, painful seep. First, the abrasive grind of wet sand against his cheek. Then, the raw scrape of air in his lungs. His eyes fly open. He is not dead. The truth of it punches through him. He lurches upright, his gaze sweeping the desolate coastline—a landscape of splintered wood and tangled rope where men should lie. They are gone. All of them. Only he remains, singled out by some divine cruelty for this endless waking punishment. He staggers to his feet, sand cascading from his sodden tunic. The island breathes a hollow, guilty quiet. He walks, not toward anything, just to feel the ache in his muscles instead of the one in his chest. His mind is a storm of faces: Ctimene's smile, Polites's laugh, the crew's trusting eyes. A figure materializes in the haze…