Flash Fic Monday (on Sunday) – Regret
Note: I didn’t have anything ready for last week because I was so sick, but I had an idea pop into my head today so here’s the flash fic for April 20th.
Swallowing his tears, Royce settled back on the rock and listened to the sound of the rushing river beneath him. He wondered if he’d have the strength to throw himself off the rock into the icy river before the infection took over. He’d been contemplating the best way to die for hours now and he still couldn’t decide.
His thoughts wandered to the sharp hiking knife in his pack. Maybe that would be the best method, but he wasn’t sure if he could stomach it.
Royce knew it was dangerous, but he’d come out to the wilderness to think. He’d been a mess and he needed the solitude of nature to get his head on straight again. But hiking alone was a stupid, reckless thing to do and the sound of snapping bone would never leave him. He’d nearly lost his lunch at the sight of the bone sticking out from his shin and he hadn’t been able to do much to care for it with the rudimentary first aid kit in his bag. Now his leg was swollen and hot and hope had run out.
Despite his frantic searches, his satellite phone had disappeared and he’d been too injured to do much more than drag himself to the rock near the river and wait to die. He’d tried his cell phone—still miraculously intact—but the signal was spotty at best and the text he’d sent and the calls he’d made hadn’t gone through.
Scrubbing a hand across his beard, he silently apologized to his lover for the thousandth time since he slipped and fell. He wished—if he couldn’t be rescued and tell Marco to his face—that there was a way his phone would be found so Marco could see the messages telling him that he was sorry about their fight. Sorry he’d gotten himself killed with his recklessness.
Hot tears of regret slid across Royce’s skin and he took a deep shuddering breath, trying to find the peace he’d found for a few minutes earlier.
Royce must have drifted off because he woke from a drowsy sleep feeling muddled and confused by the shouts of “Over there! We’ve found him!” and Marco’s loud bellow of “Royce, goddamn it, you better still be alive you bastard!” but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.
What if it was a fever-dream, a hallucination as the infection worked its way through his system? At least he’d die with his lover’s voice in his mind. There were worse ways to go.
“Sorry, Marco,” he whispered and he wasn’t sure if it was the wind or the man who answered.
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I look forward to seeing you next Monday!