LOUIS🗡

Saturday, 6:23am

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THE SHIP IS GOING TO BLOW.

There's been a lot that happened since that moment in the plane, to where we are now, but I'm trying not to die so I'll have to make the summary quick. I mean it—I've got thirty seconds before the whole boat blows into oblivion with me still on it.

Let's begin.

30 seconds—Ash fell asleep.

Four hours into the plane ride, and she was already dreaming (of fire, probably). I thought nothing of it at first, but then I heard her whisper something under her breath. It was strange. Not what she said, but the fact that she talked in her sleep.

"Cold," she mumbled.

I blinked, not sure what to do.

I just went with my gut feeling. Taking off my jacket, I draped it over her shoulders, watching as she snuggled into it like it was a blanket. I'd have to get it back before she woke up, otherwise she'd wonder why she had my jumper. I didn't want to have that conversation.

So, I didn't sleep.

I stayed up, skin shivering in the chilly air, and my body tired and hungry. I feared something would happen if I closed my eyes. What if she woke up? What if the plane landed? I just had to secure our safety and our standing—enemies didn't share clothing.

I wasn't sure if we even were enemies anymore.

We were working together now.

Damn, I'm running out of time, let's move on. The plane lands, I wake her up, we get out, and we scour the area for means of transport. Perhaps we should have been more careful, because we didn't think anything of the eyes watching us. I thought it was because we looked like tourists—turns out spies are everywhere.

However, we managed to find a shipment boat transporting vehicles that was headed towards Barbados.

25 seconds—we sneak onto the boat.

It's blistering with heat out here in the Carribean, and I'm not sure my English background is suitable for this kind of weather. I'm used to rainy days and grey skies. I can feel my skin flushing a dangerous shade of pink already; Ash said I should have bought suncream, but I ignored that statement.

And it was fine, sitting below deck, hiding amongst cars and bikes as we felt the ship rock against the water, but then we saw the light.

A streak slipping across the darkening sky, heading straight towards the boat like a falling star. Ash didn't know what it was, but I recognized it immediately:

A missile.

I wasn't sure whether the SIS or The Embers sent it, but it was clear they had figured out where we were, and sought to kill us. Brilliant.

20 seconds—I wanted to grab one of the water-mobiles that was being transported, because it would give us means to escape the boat in time, but Ash had different plans.

"The crew," she had yelled, sprinting across the deck, "we have to get them to abandon ship!"

I remembered grabbing her hand. "We don't have time!"

"Neither do they!"

I hated her even more in that moment, but somehow respected her for it. She was throwing away so much—our chance to get to safety, the mission we had recklessly embarked on—but she had a point. The Captain and crew running the transportation vessel would be killed, because of a missle sent to kill us.

15 seconds—but that brings us to the current, where I have fifteen seconds left.

Ash had managed to rush the others onto their own lifeboats, where I could see them paddling away from the ship at this very moment, but I lost sight of her from where I was.

I had managed to grab a jet ski that was being transported, lowering it into the water and hot wiring it on, but now I was lingering by the side of the boat waiting for her to appear.

10 seconds—all the crew members were warned, what else is she doing?

"Ash!" I yelled, my voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the water, "where the hell are you?"

The missile was coming closer. If I didn't leave now, I'd be dead. But if I left, then she'd be dead. It was a risky decision I didn't have time to think about, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to hit the pedal and drive off. I was going to die, because of her. Fabulous. Great way to leave this world.

8 seconds—but then I saw a shadow flash across the sky, and she appeared.

With a cat.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

"Drive!" She yelled, swinging over the ledge, the animal clutched tightly underneath her arm.

More than happy to, I hit the pedal, feeling the boat start to propel itself through the choppy waves. Ash jumped off the deck of the ship, landing less-than-gracefully on the back of my ski, grabbing the railing so she didn't fall off.

5 seconds—the wind was in my hair, but I was more focused on the world around me.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" I yelled over the sound of the boat's engine.

2 seconds—she held up the cat.

"Shut up and drive, you idiot!" She yelled.

1 second.

And as the boat behind us exploded into bits of fire and hot air, all I could think in that very second was this; my eyes stinging from the salty-ocean air, staring at a girl with a cat in her hands, while trying to drive us to safety:

I hate this girl more than anything.

"One of the crew mates told me their cat was stuck in their quarters!" She exclaimed over the noise, "I couldn't just leave him, Partridge!"

I made a sharp left, dodging a flying piece of rubble. "You nearly got us killed!"

"Me? I'm not the one who sent that missile!"

"That's not what I meant!"

"I don't care!" She yelled back, "Mister Scratchy was worth it!"

"Mister Scratchy?" I screamed, nearly cracking my voice, "you've got to be—no, you know what? Nevermind!"

She was insufferable, untamable, too rash and reckless, and she was getting on my nerves. Not just one, mind you, she was getting on all of my nerves. I was one straw away from throwing myself off the jet ski and into the ocean to drown. We nearly died, because she wanted to save an ugly cat who didn't even belong to us.

Turning back to the sea in front of us, I focused on directing us towards the beach a few miles away. A few minutes into the drive, I realized it had become oddly silent—no sarcastic remarks or insults.

And I was about to turn around to see what Ash was doing, when I felt something furry latch onto my shoulder, and I noticed two cat paws being held up onto my shirt. Ash was holding the cat. She was holding the cat. Like a backpack.

"Hewo," she said, her voice squeaky and soft, "I'm Mister Scratchy, and I demand an apology."

And now she was pretending to be the cat.

I frowned. "For what?"

"For saying I wasn't worth saving," she said (as the cat).

"I didn't say that."

"You were thinking it."

"I was not," I snapped.

Turning around all the way, I was about to defend myself again, but then I caught sight of the two of them staring straight at me. Both of their eyes were watery and wide like saucers, and they had a distinct pout—they almost looked like duplicates of each other.

If I wasn't trying to drive the boat, I might have stood there frozen in complete confusion.

"Oh," I said, suddenly filled with a strange feeling, "very well then, I apologize for thinking you weren't worth it."

Ash beamed. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"It was gruesome."

The girl let out a happy grin, hugging the ginger cat closer to her chest and plopping down on the thin bench beside her. It was a strange sight. Not the cat, nor the girl, but seeing her happy. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy. Not since that day in the trailer park, right before I—

No, I don't want to think about it.

That was a mistake.

I know that now.

And all I should be focused on is making sure we get to Barbados quickly, so we can save London and get this all over with. I won't have to put up with her after this. 

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Sorry for the wait! I was not feeling the greatest mentally, so I had to separate myself from social media for a few days. Thank you for all the love <3 x